God's Highlander (12 page)

 

Evangeline did
not
accept the presence of Mairi Ross in her class. The Kilmalie factor's daughter conceded that Mairi was intelligent and quick to learn, but these were the only points she made in her new pupil's favour.

‘She's disruptive, insolent and …
disrespectful
!'

Evangeline's complaint was her sixth in the three weeks Mairi had been attending the Eskaig school.

‘I can't teach children with someone like her in the class. She's undermining my authority. You should have known better than to allow a crofter-girl of that age to come to school –
especially
a Ross. Many of the parents of the other girls are complaining. They're beginning to wonder whether you have a particular reason for allowing her to take lessons.'

‘What is that supposed to mean?'

They were talking in one of the classrooms after school. Wyatt had been hammering nails in the wall and he now began hanging half a dozen framed paintings, donated by Annie Hamilton, the woman who owned the Eskaig inn.

‘Well, whether or not you are aware of it, there was a lot of talk in the village after you came down from the mountains with Mairi Ross in a state of undress….'

Wyatt dropped the painting he was trying to hang. He managed to slow its progress with his foot, but it was not enough to prevent a sliver of gilded wood from breaking away from the frame when it hit the floor. Wyatt took a deep breath. It was on occasions such as this
that he regretted his status as a minister. It meant he could not resort to a well-known old army swearword to express his feelings.

Picking up the broken piece of wood, Wyatt tried to attach it to the damaged frame, but there seemed to be a piece missing. After turning it this way and that, he threw it through the open window.

‘Mairi Ross's dress was sacrificed to rescue two young children from certain death. It would take an evil mind to think ill of her for
that
.'

‘I'm only telling you what I've heard.' Evangeline stooped and picked up the missing sliver of wood from the floor and handed it to Wyatt. ‘But I'm not surprised at such gossip.
I've
heard her talking about the furniture in the manse as though she's familiar with every piece that's there.'

‘If you saw her home, you'd understand why. They lead a very simple life in the mountain crofts. Any furniture
they
have is made from rough wood, by her father. It's no more than a childlike trait to boast of what she's seen.'

‘But she's
not
a child, Wyatt. Such gossip will do you no good at all.'

‘Very well, I'll speak to her.' The second sliver of picture-frame followed the first through the window, and Wyatt hung an artist's romanticised depiction of a stag at bay without further trouble.

 

It was one thing to tell Evangeline he would speak to Mairi about her behaviour at school, but quite another to bring the matter to the attention of Mairi herself.

Wyatt had hoped to tackle Mairi after his Sunday-morning service, but none of the Ross family attended church that week. Then, between lessons on Monday afternoon, Wyatt received a complaint that Mairi had totally disrupted a lesson by correcting Evangeline about Wellington's campaign in the Iberian peninsula. Mairi quoted both her parents as authorities on the subject.

That evening, when Mairi left school Wyatt was waiting for her outside Eskaig, at the point where she would leave the road and make her way through the mountains to the remote croft.

Mairi's pleasure at seeing Wyatt was short-lived. As soon as he asked her how she was enjoying school she knew why he had been waiting for her.

‘
She's
sent you to speak to me, hasn't she?' Wyatt needed to stride
out across the wiry low-growing heather in order to keep up with her. ‘I
knew
she would. She thinks
she's
the only one who knows anything…. '

It was impossible to conduct a sensible conversation walking at such a speed. Reaching out, Wyatt took hold of Mairi's arm and brought her to a halt.

‘Mairi, Miss Garrett's at the school to
teach
you and the others. It's not easy for her, especially as she knows so little Gaelic. From what I hear, you're not making it any easier.'

‘From what you hear from who? Her? She's not likely to tell you the truth.'

‘Then, perhaps you'd like to tell me
your
version of what's been happening.'

Mairi looked at him intently for some moments, but then she shrugged. ‘It doesn't matter what I say. You're bound to take her side even if she
is
wrong. Like you say,
she's
the teacher.'

‘I'm not taking
any
sides. All I want to do is resolve a classroom problem to everyone's satisfaction.'

Once again Mairi gave him a long hard look. ‘You'll never resolve anything as long as I'm in
her
class. She wants me out of the school and she won't leave me alone until she's succeeded.'

‘That's foolish talk, Mairi. Why should she want you to leave the school? You're older than the rest, it's true, but you're just as eager to learn as the others. More so, probably.'

‘You
really
don't know why?' Mairi's disbelief seeped away when she saw his puzzlement. ‘No, I don't believe you do. All right, I'll try not to upset her, but I don't think it's going to work. Now I must hurry. The cows have to be milked before dark.'

Wyatt watched Mairi and returned her wave just before she disappeared from view around the hillside. He wanted to believe he had resolved the problem that existed between Mairi and Evangeline, whatever the truth of it, but he feared he had not heard the last of the matter.

 

True to her promise, Mairi tried hard not to antagonise Evangeline during the ensuing week, even when during a geography lesson she believed the factor's daughter was unnecessarily scornful of the crofting method of farming.

Then, during a history lesson, continuing the story of Wellington's campaign in Spain, Evangeline made a remark about the women who followed the English troops. She called them ‘camp followers', adding that they were no better than the name implied.

Mairi jumped to her feet immediately. She informed Evangeline Garrett that most of the ‘camp followers' were married to soldiers. They travelled with the army for no other reason than to be near their husbands, providing them with what little comfort they could on the march. Carried away by her anger, Mairi scornfully told Evangeline she could never imagine
her
staying by her man in battle or rescuing a wounded husband and carrying him to safety under fire.

Evangeline chose not to take issue with Mairi over the matter. Instead she ordered Mairi to leave her class, declaring she would no longer tolerate her interruptions and arrogant behaviour.

Pretending not to care, Mairi said: ‘I don't
want
to stay in a school with a teacher who makes up her own history as she goes along. That's not learning.'

‘We've heard quite enough from you, Mairi Ross. Get out
now
, if you please.' Evangeline was white-faced, but there was a hint of triumph in her voice. Coming on top of her previous outbursts, Wyatt would have no alternative but to confirm Mairi's dismissal.

Head held high, Mairi maintained her dignity, although her eyes burned with the ignominy of being ordered from school by the factor's daughter. ‘It'll make no difference, you know. You won't get him.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about. What's more, I don't care.' Evangeline's face had suddenly changed from white to scarlet.

‘I'm talking of Preacher Jamieson. You can set your bonnet at him if you like, but he'll not have you, whether I'm around or not. And that's the
real
reason you're getting rid of me; we both know that.'

‘Get out!
Get out
!' Evangeline was beside herself with rage, acutely aware of the grinning faces of Mairi's late classmates who were enjoying the discomfiture of the factor's daughter.

‘I'm going.' Mairi was desperately miserable at being expelled from the Eskaig school. She had wanted so much to receive an education. Without it there could be no escape from the grinding seasonal toil of the croft. However, she had no intention of allowing Evangeline to see how unhappy she was. ‘I hope you'll tell the preacher the truth of why I'm going….'

Alasdair Burns passed Mairi in the doorway and understood immediately the cause of the din coming from Evangeline's classroom. Taking a deep breath, he stomped into the room and bellowed for silence.

 

Providing the means for young Jimmy Gordon to attend school produced an unexpected bonus for Wyatt. One evening he received a visitor at the manse. In answer to a knock, Wyatt opened the door to find Angus Cameron standing hat in hand on the threshold.

‘Elder Cameron! This is indeed a surprise. Come in.'

Behind Wyatt, Alasdair was in the room and he heard Wyatt speak the elder's name. He was so surprised he tried to remove the hot kettle from the fire without using a cloth to protect his hand. Dropping the kettle hastily, he cursed his carelessness.

‘I won't come inside.' Angus Cameron was ill at ease in the presence of the man whose appointment as minister he had opposed so vehemently. ‘But I would like to have a word with you, Minister Jamieson. Could we walk awhile, maybe?'

‘Of course.' There was a fresh northerly wind blowing, and Wyatt took a coat from a peg inside the door before stepping outside. ‘We'll walk to the kirk. The wind's rising, and I should check that all the windows are closed.'

‘That will do fine.' Angus Cameron replaced the hat on his head and held it in place with one hand. The wind blew fiercely in the gap between manse and church. ‘It's a while since I saw inside the kirk. I've missed it sorely.'

‘No one has forced you to stay away, Elder. I've always made it quite clear your presence in the kirk would be very welcome.'

‘It's that I've come to talk to you about….' They reached the church porch, and Angus removed his wide-brimmed hat once more. He stood turning it in his hands as though it were a ship's wheel. ‘First, I would like to thank you for what you've done for Jimmy – Jimmy Gordon. He's my grandson. Janet, his mother, is my daughter. An only child. We've all been worried about Jimmy. Apart from that dog of his, he'd seemed interested in nothing at all. Yet tonight he's had me pushing him all around the garden in that wheeled chair you gave him and he's bubbling over with enthusiasm about going to school with the other children. You've given him a new lease of life, Minister, and I'm here
to offer you an apology. I still don't agree with the way you were appointed, but you're proving yourself a good pastor.'

The two men entered the church, and while Angus Cameron was talking he looked about him with the air of a man who had come home after a long absence.

‘Nothing's changed here, Elder Cameron. Everything is just the way you left it – but it would be all the better for a sermon or two from you.'

Angus Cameron looked at Wyatt incredulously. ‘Do you mean that?'

‘I do. You're sadly missed here. It would make me very happy if you resumed your place in the kirk …
our
kirk.'

In the elder's hands the hat-brim was curled so tightly that Wyatt feared it might never resume its original shape. Suddenly Angus Cameron nodded vigorously, momentarily incapable of speech.

‘Good! Can I put you down for the sermon on Sunday afternoon? There's another matter I would like to discuss with you, too. There's a need for another chapel, at the far end of the loch, near the Munros' cottage. I couldn't consider it unless I had help with my own preaching duties. Do you think there is something you might be able to do…?'

W
YATT HAD SEEN none of the Ross family for almost four weeks, since Mairi stormed out of the school building. He told himself he was concerned about the whole family, but honesty forced him to admit he missed speaking with Mairi. On a visit to Lachlan Munro, Wyatt asked about the high-mountain family, but the ex-soldier seemed unusually vague.

‘I expect the womenfolk are at the shielings, summer-grazing their cattle. That's where they make their cheese and butter to see them through the winter – but you know that, Captain. They must have done the same thing on the Islands.'

‘
You're
talking of the women, Lachlan;
I'm
asking of the whole Ross family. That includes nine men, I believe.'

‘Ah, well, it's a short summer up here. There's plenty to do at this time of year.'

Wyatt had a feeling that Lachlan Munro was not telling him all he knew of the Ross men. He would need to find out for himself what was happening on the high lands above the loch.

Wyatt chose his day well. The wispy early-morning mist promised a fine day. Sure enough, by the time Wyatt had toiled up the steep slope of the mountains behind Eskaig and reached the glen where the two Munro children had been involved in their frightening adventure, the sun was rising in a cloudless sky.

Surrounded by all that was best in the Highlands, Wyatt walked along beneath a loose-linked chain of skylarks, each bird hanging far above him, their unending repetitive song always with him.

It was not quite so green on the high lands as it was at the lochside. The soil was thinner here, and sun and wind dried the ground quickly, but the land supported a wide variety of animal and bird life. He saw
many mountain hares, long-eared high-leaping animals, fast-running on erratic courses between hiding-places, well aware of the presence of a silent gliding eagle commanding the skies overhead. Once Wyatt saw a magnificent stag using a low rocky ridge as a plinth. The proud animal slipped swiftly from view when it spotted the alien presence of a man in its domain.

Eventually, without hurrying, Wyatt came in sight of the Ross cottage. Smoke was seeping from the crude chimney, but there was no other sign of life immediately apparent about the place. He eventually located Eneas Ross and his Spanish wife working side by side, backs bent, on a vegetable plot some distance from the house. The plot was hidden from view by low stone walls that protected the plants against the cutting wind.

Magdalene Ross waved in response to Wyatt's call, but she carried on working. Eneas Ross straightened his back slowly and stiffly and waited for Wyatt to reach them.

‘You're a long way from Eskaig, Minister. What brings you up here this time?'

‘I've missed you and your family at my services. I thought I'd come and satisfy myself you were all right.'

‘It's a busy time of year for us, Minister. Crofters slipped the good Lord's mind when He decreed man should work for only six days of the week. During winter, when the snows are with us, we can find time to pray every day, but we need to work like two men through the summer if we're to survive. Now, where are my manners…? Away to the house with you, woman, bring the whisky and a piece of new cheese for Minister Jamieson.'

Eneas Ross's words were loud and dictatorial, but the look that followed Magdalene Ross towards the cottage contained a gentleness seldom seen in such a man. When his wife was beyond hearing, Eneas Ross said: ‘She's been carrying on something awful about not coming to your kirk, Minister. She'd have come on her own, but she's not so steady on her legs these days. If I let her go, I'd get no work done for worrying about her.'

‘How about your boys? Couldn't one of them have brought her to the kirk?'

A strange expression crossed the face of Eneas Ross, but it was gone again so quickly Wyatt wondered if he had imagined it.

‘The boys aren't here. They've gone down to the lowlands to fetch back some sheep – all except young Donnie. He's at the shielings, hunting food for the womenfolk. He'd rather be with his brothers, I dare say, but if that young Fraser girl's there I doubt he'll be too unhappy.'

Wyatt wondered whether Eneas Ross knew of Seonaid's association with John Garrett. But he had not come here to cause trouble.

‘I would have thought there were sheep enough about here.'

‘There are, but those who own them are robbers. They've robbed our people of land for their sheep-walks and they'd rob blind any man who tried to strike a bargain with them. I'll not deal face to face with any man who runs sheep on cleared land in the Highlands.'

Magdalene Ross arrived with the whisky-jar, a half-loaf of coarse bread and a great chunk of newly made cheese, brought from the shielings by Mairi on a visit a few days before.

The talk turned to the summer grazing-lands, and Wyatt expressed an interest in paying them a visit.

‘Why not?' Eneas Ross agreed. ‘You'll find Mairi and Tibbie there. You'll also meet a great many womenfolk you'll not have met before. Mind, you'll not make it back to Eskaig by nightfall. Either get the women to make a shelter for you there or come back here for the night.'

Wyatt had not intended going to the shielings quite so soon, but the more he thought about it the more sense it seemed to make. He had no urgent tasks waiting for him in the village, and it might be a long time before he had another such opportunity.

Thanking Eneas Ross and his wife for their hospitality, Wyatt took directions and set off for the shielings. The way would take him past the home of Seonaid Fraser. He intended to call on the girl's blind father.

Unlike the Ross cot, the Fraser home occupied an exposed position on the slope of one of the highest peaks in the area. It also had a sad air of neglect about the place, although a small vegetable plot was the equal of the one Wyatt had just seen at the Ross croft.

There were a couple of tethered goats here, too, and as Wyatt approached he was surprised to see Seonaid at home milking one of the animals.

She stopped when she saw Wyatt and, setting aside the wooden bucket, hurried to meet him.

‘What are you doing here? You've not come to tell my father about me and John Garrett? Please don't. It will kill him.'

‘He'll learn nothing from me,' Wyatt reassured the girl. ‘I'm on my way to the shielings and thought it was time I called and paid your father a visit.'

Behind them in the cot doorway a man appeared. He looked directly to where Wyatt was standing with Seonaid, but the cloud of blindness was in his eyes and Wyatt knew he could not see them.

‘Who's that, Seonaid? I heard voices. Who are you talking to, girl?' The voice was querulous and somewhat peevish.

‘It's the minister from Eskaig here to see you. He's on his way to the shielings. I'll be taking him with me when I go.'

‘A minister? What's he doing all this way from Eskaig? We've never had one here before.'

‘All the more reason to make him welcome. You're always complaining no one ever comes calling on you.'

‘That Ross boy is here often enough, although we're better off without the likes of him. I never trusted a Ross when I could see them. I trust them even less now I can't.'

‘Minister Jamieson hasn't come all this way to hear what you think of your neighbours. You've often said how you'd like a prayer said for Ma … well, now's the chance. I'll finish milking the goats and then I'll need to get back to the shielings. Our cows will want milking, and no one else will do it for me if I'm not there. Will half an hour do you, Minister?'

Wyatt nodded, and as he followed Hamish Fraser inside the cottage Seonaid returned to the goats.

Once inside there was little to distinguish between this cot and the one occupied by the Ross family, although the Fraser home was not as clean. It also lacked an indefinable warmth that was present in the Ross household.

‘Don't you find it lonely up here, Mr Fraser? Have you ever thought of moving to Eskaig?'

‘The answer to both your questions is No. Why should I find it lonely? Besides, I've lived here so long I don't need eyes to find my way around and I've got Seonaid to think of. I know all about Eskaig and the wicked ways of folk who live there. Seonaid's mother came from Eskaig. She had me to thank for removing her from temptation. She realised that, Minister. Realised it and was grateful.'

‘Seonaid told me her mother is dead. Is she buried in Eskaig? If you
tell me where her grave is, I'll tidy it up for you. Perhaps you'd like me to take you down there some day…?'

‘She's not buried in Eskaig – and I keep her grave tidy for myself. I visit it every day, sometimes twice.'

‘I don't understand. There's not another burial-ground for miles….'

‘Preacher Gunn wouldn't bury her in the churchyard because she killed herself. Down in the stream it was, the first year I went blind, and with Seonaid no more than a wee bairn at the time. I buried her myself, close by where she died, next to the stone where she always kneeled to do her washing. That was the closest she ever came to praying, Minister, on her knees by the stream. I've prayed for her – Seonaid too, I've seen to that. But no preacher's ever put his hands together on her behalf.'

‘Then, we'll rectify that straightway. Show me the place.'

Hamish Fraser walked from the house with the confidence of a man who knew the position of every item of furniture.

Once outside, he called: ‘Seonaid, come with us, girl. The minister's going to say a prayer at your mother's graveside. Come now.'

‘You go on. I've been down there once today. I need to finish milking the goats if I'm to get back to the shielings.'

For a moment it seemed Hamish would insist on his daughter accompanying them. Then he shrugged his shoulders apologetically. ‘I'm sorry, Minister. She's a good girl, but since those Rosses started calling she's grown a mite too independent.'

‘You don't like the Ross family?' Wyatt asked the question of Fraser as he followed the blind man down a well-worn path towards a stream.

‘I do not. During the early years of my marriage they would have turned my own wife against me had I not put a stop to it. They've tried the same thing with Seonaid. When she was a child she'd sometimes run away. I knew where she went to, but since I was blind I could do nothing. I had to wait until they brought her back to me – and they wouldn't have cared had I starved in the mean-time. It's hard being blind, Minister. Had I not lost my sight, I'd have settled matters once and for all with Eneas Ross and those boys of his. I'm surprised Lord Kilmalie allows them to remain on his land. The Rosses have never been anything but renegades with no regard for another's property – be it wife, daughter or livestock.'

Wyatt would have liked to know more, but he said nothing. It would not do for a minister to become involved in family feuds.

The stream-bank at the end of the path had been worn away by many generations of usage, and a small dam built lower down meant that a wide and deep pond had formed. The fast-moving stream kept the water fresh and clear. At the very edge of the pond was a large flat laundry-boulder, the surface worn smooth by generations of washerwomen.

Six feet away was the grave of the late Mrs Fraser. There was no cross. The simple, slightly raised plot was little more than five feet long, and less than half as wide, the whole grave encircled by stones of varying sizes. There was also a sprig of freshly picked heather placed on the mound, and Wyatt remembered that Seonaid had admitted to visiting the grave earlier.

Both men sank to their knees beside the unconsecrated grave, and after a short prayer Wyatt recited a portion of Psalm 103: ‘… he remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.'

After Wyatt closed his bible, Hamish Fraser remained on his knees for some minutes, tears coursing down his cheeks. When he stood up again, he clasped Wyatt's hand in both his own. ‘Bless you, Minister. She's waited many years to have a man of God say a prayer over her. She'll rest easier now, I know.'

‘I'll have a prayer said for her in the kirk this Sunday, too – but I still believe you'd be better off living in Eskaig village.'

Hamish Fraser reverted to his earlier, abrupt manner. ‘You'll never get me near that place.
Never
. I'd kill myself same as my Mary before I'd go, because I'd surely die once I got there. It's not my sort of place. One cottage leaning against another; neighbours with their ears to the walls to hear all that's going on; women gossiping behind a man's back the minute he's passed by….'

‘It's not as bad as that, Mr Fraser. I can see that you'd miss all you have here, but one day Seonaid will want to go her own way – and you won't be able to stay here alone.'

‘She'll not leave me. Seonaid will always come back.' Hamish Fraser spoke fiercely, causing Wyatt to look at the man sharply.

At that moment Seonaid called: ‘Are you ready, Minister? I have cows to milk when I reach the shielings, and it's a three-hour walk.'

‘I'm ready.' Wyatt turned to bid farewell to Hamish Fraser, but the blind man had gone inside his home.