God's Highlander (36 page)

‘I'll go wherever you go. But what if the people choose you, and not Angus Cameron?'

‘Then I'll stay and build a kirk beside the school. A house, too. It won't be large, but there'll be enough room…. I've drawn a plan….' Suddenly Wyatt's heart was too full for words. ‘Mairi, I
love
you!'

‘I love you, too, Wyatt Jamieson.'

Back at the croft, Magdalene and Eneas Ross greeted the news with affection, but without surprise.

Magdalene Ross kissed and hugged them both, while Mairi's brothers and their ‘kinsmen' crowded around to congratulate the newly betrothed couple.

Finally, it was the turn of Eneas Ross to clasp the hand of his future son-in-law.

‘I'll be pleased to have you in the family, Preacher,' he said. ‘Though it's taken you so long to persuade her to say Yes I was beginning to worry lest you weren't the man I believed you to be.'

N
EWS OF WYATT'S intended marriage came as no surprise to a delighted Alasdair Burns. He had been expecting it for many months.

The village elders were less enthusiastic. Mairi Ross was an unsophisticated mountain girl. She had no knowledge of what was expected of a minister's wife, and no useful family connections to help in the difficult times ahead. However, the matter of Wyatt's marriage was overshadowed by the question of his acceptance by the community in his new role as Free Church minister.

If the people wanted him, and with the full backing of the newly formed church, he felt confident he could withstand the malicious opposition of John Garrett. Without the support of the parishioners, his presence could cause them only humiliation.

The elders were every bit as concerned about the outcome as was Wyatt. They believed in the principles that had brought about the formation of the Free Church, but if it failed in Eskaig
they
could not move on.

Angus Cameron had not been slow in pressing home this point during Wyatt's absence in Edinburgh. Had he not returned when he did, Wyatt believed at least two of the elders might have returned to the established church.

New support arrived shortly before the allegiance of the villagers was put to the test. Evangeline Garrett and her mother returned to their Corpach home late on Friday. Charlotte Garrett would never be cured, but she was more stable now.

Evangeline rode up to the Eskaig schoolhouse mid-morning the next day, and her initial greeting was for Alasdair Burns. Watching the
couple together, Wyatt thought it probable they, too, would soon be contemplating marriage.

Evangeline was no less enthusiastic than Alasdair Burns had been at the news that Wyatt was to marry Mairi, but she was also filled with indignation at her father's treatment of the Eskaig minister.

‘I learned only this morning that Father has moved Angus Cameron into the manse. It's
disgraceful
, Wyatt. By the time a servant told me the news my father had already gone out, otherwise I'd have told
him
what I thought.'

‘I'm grateful for your concern, but don't even mention the matter to him. It will only start a family argument without serving any useful purpose.'

‘It won't
start
the argument. I've something else to put to him that will do that. It seems my father's been a very busy man while mother and I have been away – and I'm not talking of
Kilmalie
business. I believe he's seeing that Seonaid girl again.'

Wyatt found it difficult to believe Evangeline's accusation after all that had happened, but Seonaid and her father
had
left the Eskaig inn and moved to Fort William. Wyatt had seen Seonaid shortly before the move when she told him she was going because she had an offer of more remunerative employment.

Annie Hamilton told a different story. She said Seonaid was lazy, and given to spending too much time away from the inn, sometimes being away for whole nights.

Wyatt remembered the whispering he had heard coming from John Garrett's bedroom. Sadly, he was forced to admit that Evangeline was probably right.

 

Sunday was a cloudy and blustery day. Wyatt thought it would probably favour Angus Cameron. Wyatt's strongest support was in the mountains behind the village. Bad weather was likely to keep the crofters and cottars at home, while Cameron's supporters had only to hurry along the road to the kirk to lend him their support.

‘Don't worry, Wyatt, you'll get the result you want.' Alasdair Burns repeated his prophecy for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Cameron's seen as throwing in his lot with Garrett and the landowners. The people of Eskaig won't forgive him for that.'

Both men had worked well into the night preparing the school for
its Sunday role as the district's free church. It was by no means ideal, but it was spacious enough to hold the size of congregation Wyatt hoped to have, with seats for the elderly.

‘What's happening here is being repeated in more than four hundred churches throughout Scotland today. The outcome will decide the future of the Church in Scotland….'

‘Not to mention your marriage to Mairi!'

‘Have you and Evangeline ever spoken of marriage?'

‘Many times. At least,
she's
spoken of it. I tell her it's madness even to think of such a thing, but there's more than a touch of her father in Evangeline Garrett. She'll not listen to anyone who isn't saying what she wants to hear.'

‘What's wrong with the idea? It's not like you to think you're not good enough for a factor's daughter.'

‘I'm as good as any man or woman anywhere, whatever their station in life. But it's also true to say I can't offer Evangeline all the things she's used to having.'

‘I'm sure Evangeline has taken that into consideration. If you both planned to stay in Eskaig and teach, the Free Church could afford to pay you a small joint salary….' Wyatt was thinking of Lord Kilmalie's legacy. ‘You wouldn't live in luxury, but you'd get by.'

‘Then, it seems we
both
have a great deal to win or lose today, Wyatt.' Alasdair Burns knew where the money would come from to pay for schoolteachers. He rested a hand affectionately upon his friend's shoulder. ‘I'd better get out on the streets of Eskaig now and start driving folk to your service.'

For a long while it seemed Alasdair Burns might be having difficulty persuading the Eskaig villagers to attend Wyatt's first Free Church service. Long after the time when the congregation normally attended church there was no movement on the road from the village, and Wyatt was as nervous as on the day of his induction.

Services in the school had been deliberately arranged to coincide with the induction in the nearby kirk. It would leave no doubt in anyone's mind which church the people of Eskaig had chosen to follow. Looking to where Angus Cameron waited at the gate of the small kirk, Wyatt knew the Eskaig elder must be having the same misgivings as himself. He almost felt sorry for him.

John Garrett stood with Angus Cameron. The Kilmalie factor had
arrived a few minutes earlier. Only one of his household, a hostler, was with him. Wyatt wondered what had happened to prevent the remainder of his servants from attending.

The presbytery were standing nearby. Only two were ministers who had attended Wyatt's induction. The remainder had joined the breakaway movement in company with Coll Kennedy. For a moment Wyatt wondered how the easygoing Letterfinlay minister was making out. Whether he had found a place in which to preach. Wyatt decided he probably had. Coll Kennedy was not lacking in enterprise. Wyatt would soon find out; he intended to pay his friend a visit at the earliest opportunity.

Some minutes before the services were due to begin there came the sound of a pony and trap being driven hard from the direction of Corpach, and Evangeline came into view driving at a recklessly fast speed. Pony and trap slackened speed at the gate of the kirk, but Evangeline did not haul the pony to a halt until she reached the school.

Throwing the long reins carelessly inside the small vehicle, Evangeline leaped to the ground. Ignoring her father and his companions watching from outside the kirk, Evangeline called to Wyatt: ‘I hope I'm not late. I had things to do at home before I came out.'

‘You're the first to arrive and you're very welcome. Come inside.'

As Wyatt ushered Evangeline to the school, he glanced towards her father, standing with the representatives of the established church. John Garrett's face was livid.

‘You've made your father very angry, Evangeline. You should have stayed away. There'll be trouble for you when you return home.'

‘More than you know, Wyatt.' Evangeline seemed surprisingly unconcerned. ‘I refused to allow the servants to attend church with him. I said he'd let them get into lazy ways while I was away. As a punishment they have to work today and clean the house from top to bottom. They minded far less than Father did. Are there many people in Angus Cameron's church?'

‘One. Your father's hostler.'

‘Where's Alasdair?' Evangeline had been looking about her for the one-legged teacher. ‘Is he inside the school?'

‘He's in the village, trying to raise a congregation. I hope that might be him now.'

While they were speaking he saw a number of people leave Eskaig and head along the road towards the school – or the kirk next door. He looked for Alasdair Burns, but the schoolteacher was not with them.

There were far more people than he had expected to see, and he was apprehensive until he recognised a pale and sickly Lachlan Munro among them. Hope leaped suddenly high. Lachlan would not be here on Angus Cameron's behalf. Then he recognised the Ross family, too….

Wyatt threw open the school gate as the procession reached him and the leaders turned in, nodding to him as they passed – and still they filled the road from Eskaig. By the time Mairi came in through the gate Wyatt was beside himself with joy. Every man, woman and child had turned into the school. Not one had passed by to go to the kirk.

‘Come here and stand with me.' Wyatt reached out and took Mairi's hand, and she took up a position beside him. Magdalene Ross looked startled for a moment, then she smiled her approval. Wyatt had made a gesture, the implications of which would not be lost on the community.

Wyatt and Mairi stood together as Wyatt extended a greeting to those he knew, as well as to many he did not. The improvised church was filled to overflowing long before the tail-end of the procession reached the school. People began crowding into the schoolyard, and they had to squeeze close together to make room for those yet to come.

Bringing up the rear was Alasdair Burns, and with him Annie Hamilton, landlady of the Eskaig inn.

‘Alasdair! I didn't know there were so many people in these parts. Where did you find them all?'

Alasdair Burns grinned triumphantly. ‘You'd better ask Annie. She sent word out through the mountains that there'd be free whisky for any man who came in to your service today.'

‘Is this true, Annie?'

‘True enough. I cried for days over the death of Mairi's brother. He and Seonaid had a rare chance of happiness. The only chance
she'll
ever have. I'll not see the man who took that away from them score a victory when I can do something about it.' Annie Hamilton looked at the vast congregation and groaned. ‘I believe I could have saved myself a fortune. Most were coming anyway.'

That morning, standing on a table placed in the entrance of the school, Wyatt preached the sermon of his life. Halfway through he was forced to break off and silence the spontaneous cheer that went up when John Garrett left the nearby kirk and rode away.

Cheers were unnecessary. The singing of a Gaelic hymn from a thousand throats reached out to taunt the factor when he was more than a mile away from the man he had set out to remove from office.

T
HREE DAYS AFTER his Eskaig parishioners had expressed their confidence in Wyatt and the church he now represented, Wyatt set off for Letterfinlay to find Coll Kennedy.

It was to be more than a social visit. Wyatt intended to ask Coll Kennedy to come to Eskaig to conduct his wedding to Mairi, set for two months' time. There was no need to wait any longer. Although many problems were still to be overcome, the main one was behind him. The people had made their choice of minister and of the church to which they would belong.

Wyatt had called a meeting of his elders the previous evening and he found them in a rare mood of optimism. The doubts they had entertained about the future of the newly formed Free Church forgotten, the elders were loud in voicing self-congratulation on their foresight and wisdom.

Wyatt took advantage of their euphoria to obtain agreement to plans he had drawn up for a new building on the land the late Lord Kilmalie had given to him. It would embrace both church and school, with a small manse. There would not be a lot of land to spare, but in their present mood the elders were prepared to turn their hands to miracles.

It was a fine warm early-summer day, and Wyatt strode along the road happily humming a Wesley hymn. His happiness faded somewhat when he recognised a horseman travelling towards him as John Garrett.

As horse and rider drew near, Wyatt braced himself to receive a torrent of abuse. Instead Garrett passed by staring straight ahead, the expression on his face as tight as a drumhead.

Garrett had gone some ten horse-lengths past, when Wyatt turned and called to him: ‘Factor! I'd like a word with you.'

John Garrett reined in his horse, but refused to turn around. He sat stiff and upright in his saddle, looking towards Eskaig until Wyatt reached him.

‘What happened on Sunday was a victory for the Free Church, Factor, not a defeat for you or Angus Cameron. It was tangible evidence of what thinking church leaders have been saying for years. State interference in worship is bitterly resented. It's this I want to talk to you about. You saw for yourself the strength of feeling for the Free Church. If you were to allow us to worship in the kirk, the gesture would be deeply appreciated by all of Lord Kilmalie's tenants.'

John Garrett looked at Wyatt with loathing. ‘Are you suggesting I should pander to the wishes of a few …
peasants
, after they've deliberately and publicly humiliated me?'

‘I've already said there was nothing personal in what they did. They were exercising their duty to worship the Lord in the way they believe is right. I'm asking you only to make a gesture of goodwill. One that would cost nothing.'

‘Their
duty
is to Lord Kilmalie. Without
his
goodwill they'd have no land, no work – and no homes. They've shown how little loyalty they have for his Lordship. You remind them of
that
when they're paid back in kind.'

‘I had hoped we might talk this matter out sensibly and reasonably, Factor. I have the welfare of my parishioners at heart.
You
are employed to safeguard the interests of Lord Kilmalie's estate. The two are not incompatible.'

‘They weren't before you came to Eskaig. Minister Gunn and I worked together for many years in full agreement. Since you arrived there's been more trouble than Eskaig has ever known. You've turned Kilmalie tenants against me, and against their church. I don't doubt that you and that scheming teacher of yours also had something to do with the attack on the sheriff's men from Fort William. I'll make certain Lord Kilmalie's tenants know who to blame when their ingratitude reaps its reward – and it
will
, I promise you. They'll rue the day they listened to you.
You'll
be left wondering what happened to all the converts you claim to have made.'

John Garrett kicked his heels sharply into his horse's flanks, and the animal was startled to instant movement, leaving Wyatt gazing after horse and rider.

Wyatt's happy state of mind had taken a battering. He should have known better than to appeal to Garrett's better nature. The factor was quick to take offence at a slight, imagined or otherwise, and he was slow to forgive. It had been a forlorn whim-of-the-moment attempt at a reconciliation between the Kilmalie tenants and the factor. Wyatt tried to shrug off the disappointment he felt. At least it had probably left Garrett feeling better for having won the brief verbal encounter.

It was twenty miles from Eskaig to Letterfinlay, through some of the Highlands most spectacular countryside. For eight miles the track ran alongside the Caledonian Canal, a great feat of engineering skill linking the deep-water lochs of the Great Glen, providing a safe passage from east coast to west.

Wyatt kept pace with a small steam-powered tug along the narrower part of the canal before the tug's captain called out to ask where Wyatt was going. When he replied he was on his way to Letterfinlay, the captain brought his vessel in close to the bank and offered Wyatt passage to his destination.

The Eskaig preacher was spared a long walk. Even so, it was afternoon before the tugboat captain waved a cheery farewell to Wyatt, after putting him ashore at Letterfinlay.

Wyatt had no difficulty locating the church. Tiny as it was, the building dominated the cluster of houses sprinkled haphazardly along the water's edge. The men here were mostly fishermen, although there were a number of crofts to be seen nestling among trees along the steep slope of the mountains on this side of Loch Lochy.

There was nothing to say which of the buildings was the manse, none being in any way superior to its neighbour. Wyatt made his way to the church, only to find his way barred by a stout chain and padlock securing the door. It seemed Coll Kennedy had also been barred from his church.

Behind one of the houses Wyatt found an old man at work repairing a salmon-net. The man had a clay pipe clenched between his teeth and, for some reason best known to himself, the pipe was upside down.

When Wyatt enquired after Coll Kennedy, the old fisherman's eyes came up to give Wyatt a brief but thorough appraisal before continuing with his work.

‘Would you be the new minister, maybe?' The answer was slow in coming.

‘No, I have my own living in Eskaig. I'm a friend of Minister Kennedy.'

This prompted another blue-eyed look from the aged fisherman. ‘Maybe you are; but then again, you're maybe not.'

While Wyatt was pondering on a reply to this enigmatic remark, the fisherman spoke again, smoke leaking from between yellowing teeth. ‘Are you for the new kirk or the old one?'

‘I've joined the Free Church, the same as Minister Kennedy. Do you know where I might find him?'

‘I know where you
will
find him, but I needed to know your church before I directed you. If I sent you the
quickest
way, you'd pass the landlord's house. General Lindsay's strong for the old church, and quick with his sporting-gun. The way I'll send you will lead you through Mad Macquarrie's territory. I don't know how partial he is to the new church, but he could never stand the old one.'

The old man pointed north-eastwards, where the mountains ran alongside the loch in a seemingly unbroken chain. ‘Go along there until you come to the third wee burn. Follow it up the mountain; it's steep, but when you near the top you'll see a saddle between two peaks. Go through, but stay on the ridge until you meet with Mad Macquarrie. Ask him where to find Minister Kennedy.'

‘What if I miss this Macquarrie?'

‘You'll not even need to look for him, Minister. Mad Macquarrie will find
you
. Leastways, his dogs will. It's said he has a cave in the hillside up there somewhere, but no one has ever got past his dogs to find out. A word of warning to you. When the dogs find you, just stay where you are until Mad Macquarrie reaches you. They'll not harm you if you do as I say.'

‘And if I don't?'

‘They'll tear you to pieces for certain.' The old man smiled, the upside-down pipe still held fast between his teeth. ‘Wouldn't you prefer to belong to the
old
church for an hour or two and go past General Lindsay's house? After all, even Peter told a lie about which side he was on. I don't recall the good Lord holding a grudge because of it.'

‘I fancy Saint Peter might have been more valuable to the Lord than a poor Highland minister. Have those dogs really been known to tear anyone apart?'

‘No. At least, no one's returned to brag of it. You'll be taking the
mountain path, then, Minister?' When Wyatt nodded, the old fisherman said: ‘You'll be all right. When you meet up with Mad Macquarrie, say you were sent by Old Joe the fisherman. Tell him I said you were to say there were deer seen on Beith Og only yesterday. If his dogs pull one down, I'll expect something for the pot. Good day to you now, Minister. It's a fine day to be going visiting.'

As Wyatt laboured up the mountainside he could not make up his mind whether the old fisherman had been having a joke at his expense with his talk of ‘Mad Macquarrie'. He might be sitting at the lochside right now, chuckling at his success in sending a gullible preacher off on a long and fruitless journey. Wyatt took scant comfort from the knowledge that the old man had not lied about the steepness of the mountain slope.

The ‘saddle' between the two peaks was not apparent until Wyatt had conquered the steep slope. Passing through to the far slope as directed by the old fisherman, Wyatt found himself gazing down into a steep-sided glen which had a river wending its way along the glen floor.

There was a croft in the valley, almost immediately below him, but the mountainside was far too steep to attempt to go straight down to it. Another, larger building could be seen farther along the valley. Wyatt decided to follow the ridge in this direction, as the old fisherman had suggested.

Wyatt was beginning to think Mad Macquarrie was, after all, a hoax when he heard the deep bark of a dog. It sounded alarmingly close! Then he saw the animal, and three or four more with it. The colour of weathered granite, the dogs must have been lying among the rocks of the peak ahead of him.

The animals were large. Frighteningly large. Each must have weighed as much as a small man and stood half as high. Wyatt's instinct was to run, but he remembered the old fisherman's warning. He had not been wrong so far. Wyatt hoped his accuracy extended to knowing the dogs' habits.

Watching the dogs bounding towards him, Wyatt realised it would have been useless to run. Bred to hunt down deer, the dogs would have caught him before he had gone a hundred paces.

The dogs behaved exactly as the net-repairing fisherman had predicted. Bounding right up to Wyatt, they bumped and jostled each
other as they gambolled about him. One even came close enough to place a wet nose to his hand in apparent friendliness. However, when Wyatt raised his hand to pat the animal, the dog's ears went back and it showed formidable yellow teeth in a snarl that was echoed by the other dogs in the small pack.

Wyatt remained still as a strange figure advanced upon him along the ridge. Small and slight and accompanied by yet another of the great deerhounds, the man was dressed in a strange mixture of deerskin and sackcloth. He also wore an ancient and threadbare red tartan plaid slung over his left shoulder. It was difficult to observe his face. A shock of grey hair and an unkempt beard served to hide all but the man's eyes and nose.

In his hands the man carried a long-barrelled flintlock musket, of a pattern used by the British army on the battlefields of the world a hundred years before.

Wyatt knew he was about to meet Mad Macquarrie.

The man stopped six feet in front of Wyatt, cuffing away the dogs that crowded around him, tails wagging affectionately.

‘A preacher! l might have guessed. There are more preachers than rabbits in the mountains these days. All are either running from the old kirk or looking for converts to the new one. Which are you?'

The strangely-attired mountain man's voice was not that of a vagabond. Eccentric Macquarrie might be, but Wyatt knew he was talking to an educated man.

‘I'm a Free Church minister, but I'm neither running nor seeking converts. I came here from Eskaig to find an old friend: Minister Coll Kennedy. I met someone in Letterfinlay – Old Joe? He said you'd know the whereabouts of Minister Kennedy.'

‘Did he now?' Mad Macquarrie put his head to one side, bird-like. ‘Well, you could be telling me the truth. More likely it's a ruse to learn where Preacher Kennedy is holding his services now they've locked him out of kirk and manse.'

Mad Macquarrie shifted the position of the long-barrelled musket, and Wyatt found himself staring into a barrel that would have satisfied the most finnicky army musketry sergeant.

‘Old Joe also told me to tell you that deer were sighted on Beith Og yesterday. If you took one, he'd appreciate something for his cooking-pot. '

Mad Macquarrie chuckled and, much to Wyatt's relief, the barrel of the musket returned to the crook of the man's arm.

‘Old Joe wouldn't have suggested I kill a deer if he'd thought you were a landowner's man. What's your business with Coll?'

‘I'd like to see how things are faring with him. I also want to ask him to conduct a wedding in Eskaig.'

Some of the suspicion returned to Mad Macquarrie's eyes. ‘I thought you said
you
were the preacher there?'

‘So I am, but I can't officiate at my own wedding.'

‘I suppose not. Too much “can” and “can't” attached to a church marriage. More than enough to frighten off a simple man like me. Pity, it means some woman's missing a rich experience.'

Mad Macquarrie turned away before Wyatt could determine whether or not he was joking.

‘You know the way to the cave at Fintaig –
Upper
Fintaig?'