God's Highlander

by Thompson, E. V.

  ‘Perhaps. I do know the girl’s fond of you. I suspect you’re the reason she’s working at reading and writing at all hours of the day and night. She’s done well, Preacher. She’s able to read to us every night from the bible you gave her. Magdalene thinks it’s wonderful.’

  Wyatt was delighted with Eneas Ross’s words. ‘Can I take it you have no objections – if I can persuade Mairi to marry me?’

  ‘If Mairi’s decided she wants to marry you, then nothing I say or do will stop her. On the other hand, if she doesn’t want you, then nothing you do or say will change her mind.’

  ‘I think she’ll say Yes … eventually.’

  ‘Then, here’s my hand, Preacher. I’ll be proud to call you my son.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to Pa about marrying me? You had no right to do that without discussing it with me first.’

  Mairi was walking part of the way back to Eskaig with Wyatt. They were on an exposed mountain slope, and a strong wind blowing from the north-east made conversation difficult. Wyatt was beginning to wish he had delayed his revelation until they reached the shelter of a few trees just ahead of them, but a snowstorm was on the way. Mairi would soon need to turn back. He had not been able to put it off any longer.

  ‘I have discussed it with you. Every time we’ve met.’

  Mairi lengthened her stride as the wind howled in cold fury.

  ‘What did I tell you then?’

  With a sense of relief, Wyatt and Mairi stumbled over the last few yards of hardened snow to the trees. They had gained shelter from the physical force of the wind, but there was a note of ominous urgency in its voice.

  ‘Mairi, you must return home now. There’s a blizzard not far off….’

  Mairi looked up at the sky and then to the north, where thick low cloud was advancing towards them, swallowing the mountains in its path.

  ‘We have a few minutes yet. What did I tell you when you last asked me to marry you?’

  ‘You said something foolish about not having enough learning to be the wife of a minister of the Church.’

  ‘That’s right. And nothing has changed.’

  ‘Hasn’t it? Your father says you’re sitting up all hours of the night learning to read and write. He says you read the Bible to the family most evenings.’

  ‘He was trying to impress you, that’s all.’

  ‘I am impressed.’ Wyatt thought he felt the first flake of snow on his face, herald of the approaching snowstorm. He wished there was more time.

  ‘Mairi, I love you. I want you to be my wife. Say Yes. It’s a very simple word.’

  ‘I can’t, Wyatt. Not yet.’

  Her last two words gave him some hope – but she had to return home. He must hurry from the mountains, too, or the blizzard would overtake them both before they reached their respective homes.

  ‘I’ll be back in the spring to ask you again. You told me before that you are more than fond of me. It’s given me comfort during the time we’ve spent apart. Can I still have that, at least?’

  Mairi nodded, and Wyatt would never know how close she was to telling him all he wanted to hear. What she herself knew. That she loved him.

  He kissed her then, and as he held her he could almost have taken his chances with the advancing blizzard, but he would not put Mairi at such risk.

  ‘Run now, Mairi, or I shall worry about you until the spring.’

  She went without another word, and as she left the shelter of the trees the wind snatched at her cloak. She began to run, her bare feet retracing the footsteps they had made on the way to the trees.

  Wyatt watched her for as long as he dared. It was a picture he would carry with him through the remaining days and nights of winter. The image of the barefoot girl he would one day marry.

  Thirty-four

  WYATT REACHED THE lochside before the full force of the blizzard struck. As he floundered through early-drifting snow he was content in the knowledge that Mairi would have reached home at least half an hour earlier. Long before the blizzard broke over the higher lands.

  Wyatt crashed open the door of the manse, stamping snow from his shoes and beating it from his coat with cold hands.

  To his surprise there was a cheerful fire in the grate. Alasdair Burns greeted him with a tumbler of whisky and the information that venison was cooking in the pot, the meat brought in by young Ewan Munro as a present. It seemed a deer, driven from the mountains by the weather, had ‘given itself up’ in the garden of the Munro croft.

  When Wyatt expressed doubts about the truth of Ewan Munro’s story, Alasdair Burns replied that it was lacking in generosity to question ‘the Lord’s bounteousness’.

  ‘It’s not the Lord’s bounteousness I’m questioning, Alasdair, but Ewan Munro’s explanation.’ He sniffed the air. ‘It does smell delicious, so we’ll allow it to pass this time. It’s very kind of you to cook it for me – but how did you know when to expect me?’

  ‘I knew you’d see the storm coming, same as we could at lochside. You’d know to leave the mountains before it arrived.’

  Alasdair Burns’s face broke into a smile. ‘I also knew you’d wait until the very last minute before leaving Mairi Ross.’

  Wyatt did not reply to Alasdair Burns’s explanation. Instead he said: ‘Stay and eat with me, Alasdair – but we’ll need to watch the weather. It was beginning to drift when I came off the mountains.’

  ‘I hoped I’d be invited, so I’ve made enough for the two of us. I’ve news for you, too – about the Church and the threatened Disruption. Coll Kennedy sent word that Parliament in London has rejected all the demands made by Convocation. The Government insists that patronage must be retained, with all it entails. They’re being dangerously short-sighted, Wyatt.’

  The news took some of the pleasure from Wyatt’s memories of the last minutes he had spent with Mairi. How could he ask her to share such an uncertain future with him? He consoled himself with the thought that Coll Kennedy’s information might not be entirely accurate. After all, he had probably received it secondhand, possibly from a crew member in one of the boats passing through Loch Lochy.

  Coll Kennedy’s information was all too accurate. It had reached him from a ship taking passage through Loch Lochy, but it was taken from a Glasgow newspaper. Sir Robert Peel, Prime Minister of Great Britain, had dealt with the problems of the Church of Scotland with a firmness bordering on impatience. When his Tory colleagues expressed doubts about acting in such an arbitrary manner, Peel told them he was following the advice of senior members of the Scottish Church, moderate men who were in a position to know the thinking of their fellow-ministers. They had assured him it needed only a little firmness from the Government to bring the dissenting churchmen ‘to heel’.

  The Prime Minister assured his doubting colleagues he was aware of the numbers attracted to the Edinburgh Convocation. Nevertheless, he was confident most of the ministers had attended the meeting to listen. Indeed, it was the duty of ministers of the church to hear what their fellow-ministers had to say. Unless they did, they would not know how best to counter the lies and misrepresentations which were all they had to offer.

  The Prime Minister’s information was that if a Disruption of the Church was attempted very few of those who attended the Edinburgh meeting would cast in their lot with a breakaway movement.

  The House of Commons endorsed the views of the Prime Minister. The move to free the Church of Scotland from patronage and other ills was soundly defeated.

  Meanwhile, as the Government in London congratulated itself on the manner with which it had dealt with the rumblings of the northern Church, Scotland shivered beneath an all-embracing mantle of snow and waited for the spring.

  It was March before Wyatt was able to reach the factor’s house to discuss the eviction of the Fraser family. Unfortunately, he discovered that John Garrett had also taken advantage of the improving weather and had gone to Edinburgh once again.

  Charlotte Garrett was in London, staying in the home of h
er sister and receiving treatment from the finest physicians in the country. There were hopes that a few more months would see her return to something approaching normality. It was good news indeed for Evangeline, who was now free to return to the school in Eskaig. Alasdair had managed to keep the school open for the Eskaig boys, but no children from the mountains could attend until there was a more general thaw.

  Evangeline and Alasdair Burns had not seen each other since the temporary thaw of January. So warm was their reunion that Wyatt suspected they would not be able to keep their romance from the factor for very much longer. When John Garrett did find out, Wyatt believed, it would cause the greatest argument that had ever been known in the already troubled Garrett household.

  However, when trouble came, it was from another quarter.

  Conditions on the mountains improved rapidly, and Wyatt cheered himself with the thought that he would soon be able to visit the Ross family – and the Frasers, of course. In the meantime the mail had reached Eskaig for the first time in some weeks, and Wyatt was busy bringing himself up to date with the happenings inside the Church of Scotland.

  He was replying to one of his letters when he heard excited voices outside the manse. As he reached the door it was flung open, and Alasdair Burns and Evangeline helped Mairi inside.

  Every bit as wet and bedraggled as when she had helped to rescue the Munro girls, Mairi was in a state of near-collapse.

  ‘Wyatt … thank God!’ Suddenly all her remaining strength left her and she sagged between the two teachers, as though in a faint. Wyatt caught her before she slid to the ground, and when he picked her up she was a wet lifeless mass in his arms, and alarmingly cold.

  Wyatt carried Mairi closer to the fire and set her down on a wooden armchair. ‘Alasdair, you know where the blankets are kept. Fetch as many as you can find. Evangeline … do you know what this is about?’

  ‘No. I was teaching when Alasdair came in to tell me he could see Mairi coming down off the mountains. She was obviously close to exhaustion. The snow must still be deep up there. When we went to help her, all she would say was she had to reach you.’

  Alasdair returned with the blankets and pulled the armchair closer to the fire. Mairi stirred and looked up at Wyatt.

  ‘Evangeline will get you out of those wet things. Wrap yourself in these blankets. I’ll borrow some clothes and bring them back—’

  ‘No!’ Mairi was trying hard to speak between chattering teeth. ‘You must help. It’s Donnie…. He’s been arrested. Taken to Fort William. My brothers … all of them have gone to break him free.’

  Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stood as though they, and not Mairi, were frozen.

  ‘Why has he been arrested? What’s happened?’ As he spoke Wyatt wrapped one of the blankets about Mairi as she told her disjointed story.

  ‘The sheriff’s men. The constables. They came to the mountains as soon as they could find a path from Fort William. They’ve evicted the Frasers. Donnie tried to stop them. It was senseless of him. He couldn’t do anything on his own. There was a fight. Donnie’s been hurt. The constables took him off with them – after they’d put a torch to the cot.’

  Wyatt was aghast. ‘What of Seonaid? She must be expecting her child any day now….’ A sudden thought hit him. ‘How did you learn about this? Who told you … Hamish Fraser?’

  ‘Seonaid came to the house. I don’t know how she did it; the snow’s still thick up there. I think the constables were using the weather, hoping no one would learn what had happened until it was too late to do anything. Ian took Pa’s gun and called for the boys to go with them. Pa tried to stop them, first off. When he saw they weren’t going to listen he said he’d go with them. Ian said he was to stay home, and there was a fight. Ian hit Pa with the butt of the gun and laid him cold. Then the boys went off. Ma was tending Pa and crying. I said I’d come down for you. There’s no one else can help.’

  Wyatt’s thoughts were in a turmoil. ‘Where’s Seonaid now? Is she staying at your place?’

  ‘No….’ Mairi began shivering uncontrollably again, although whether it was the result of cold or shock was impossible to tell. ‘She went back … to where the cot had been. She’d left her pa there. Ma told her she was to bring Hamish to our place … but you know what he’s like. He’d rather die than accept Ross hospitality.’

  ‘God! What an awful mess.’

  ‘I’m sorry….’

  Wyatt turned to see Evangeline in tears.

  ‘Why should you be sorry?’

  ‘This is all my father’s doing. He wants the mountains around Eskaig cleared. The Highlanders must hate us.’ Alasdair tried to comfort her, but Evangeline moved away. ‘I’ll put on a hot drink for Mairi and get her out of those wet clothes. You two men go off and do what needs to be done. Don’t come back in without knocking first.’

  ‘Mairi’s exhausted and chilled through,’ said Wyatt. ‘Build up the fire. When she’s warmer put her to rest in my bed. Alasdair, you go to Eskaig and ask Mrs Gordon if she’ll loan Mairi some clothes; they’re about the same size.’

  ‘What will you be doing?’ asked Alasdair Burns.

  ‘I’m going to Fort William to learn what’s happening.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Mairi struggled to throw off the blankets.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Wyatt leaned down and tucked the blankets firmly about her again. ‘You’ll remain here until I return. That will be one worry off my mind.’

  Turning to Evangeline, he asked: ‘Are you expecting your father home?’

  ‘He returned last night – but he’s not in a good mood.’

  ‘Neither am I. I’ll call in to see him on my way to Fort William.’

  Wyatt was not optimistic about his mission. He did not know what he would learn at Fort William and he was going to see John Garrett with nothing to offer. He had no power to halt the evictions he feared had only just begun with the Fraser cot.

  Wyatt pushed open the door of John Garrett’s office, pursued by a protesting servant who had informed him the Kilmalie factor was ‘busy’. John Garrett was not alone. There was a giant of a man in the room with him. Totally bald, but with a full bushy beard, it was as though the hair had slid down to strengthen the whiskers on his face.

  Wyatt remembered seeing the man once before. Then he had been leader of a band of armed shepherds from the lowlands, driving a huge flock of sheep through Eskaig, heading north.

  ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to, Jamieson?’ The factor jumped to his feet and glared at the frightened servant-girl in the doorway behind Wyatt. ‘I thought I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed?’

  ‘Don’t blame her. An army of servants wouldn’t have kept me from you today. I want to talk to you – about clearances.’

  ‘Make an appointment. It won’t be this week. Anyway, I have nothing to say about any tenancies that have been terminated. They’re estate business. Nothing to do with the Church. From what I hear, you’re likely to be evicted soon, and with less notice than I give.’

  ‘I’m here to talk of what’s happened at the Fraser place. The eviction of a blind man and his daughter. You remember Seonaid? Oh, yes, I know you remember her, Garrett.’

  John Garrett’s glance went from Wyatt to the wide-eyed servant-girl and finally settled upon the giant shepherd who was taking a silent interest in the argument between minister and factor.

  ‘My servant-girl will take you to the kitchen for a drink and a bite to eat, Polson. I’ll send for you when I’ve dealt with Minister Jamieson.’

  As the bearded shepherd followed the servant along the corridor, John Garrett walked to the door. Closing it, he turned back to the angry minister.

  ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Jamieson. I don’t like you and I never have. You’re soft – too soft to be in a living up here. The Highlands are changing. It needs men here who understand that. Not pious preachers who put their hands together and fall on their knees praying things wil
l stay as they’ve been for a hundred – no, two hundred years. You’d see men living in hovels like animals, keeping themselves and their landowners poor. They need to move to where there’s land to support them and allow the men they’ve been bleeding dry for years to put the mountain land to some proper use. Landowners want a return on their property. Time has run out for the cottars and crofters. Now it’s time for men like me.’

  ‘It will never be time for a man who’ll burn a cot and turn a blind man and his heavily pregnant daughter out in the snow.’

  Garrett’s head jerked up in surprise. ‘What do you mean, “heavily pregnant”? The girl hasn’t been married more than a few months.’

  ‘She’s not the first girl to carry an unborn baby to her wedding – but most have a roof over their head when the baby’s born.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with burning them out. Fraser broke the terms of his tenancy by allowing the Ross boy to move in with him. The warrant was in the hands of the sheriff’s men…. Where is the girl now?’

  ‘Where the constables left her, out in the snow. Eneas Ross won’t have her in the house because he doesn’t believe the child has anything to do with his son.’

  Once again Wyatt’s words hit the factor hard. ‘I … I’ll see what can be done for her.’

  ‘I’d say you’ve done enough already – unless you can rebuild her home. Where is this going to end, Garrett? How many more cottars are to be turned out before you’re satisfied?’

  ‘That’s none of your business. I suggest you give some thought to your own future. If this “Disruption” that’s being talked about occurs, you’ll be out of church and manse, and I swear you’ll not have a square foot of Kilmalie land on which to worship.’

  ‘Right now I’m far more concerned for the Highlanders—’

  ‘I’ve said all I have to say to you. Either you leave immediately, or I’ll have my men put you out.’