God's Highlander (31 page)

‘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.'

For a moment Wyatt toyed with the idea of goading John Garrett into attempting physical violence against him. It would give Wyatt great personal satisfaction to ‘defend' himself against this man. He rejected the idea quickly. It would achieve nothing, and there were far more important matters to be attended to.

‘We'll talk again, Garrett. Until we do, I suggest you forget any ideas you have of clearing the mountains and putting Polson's sheep up there.'

‘And I suggest you mind your own damned business. Now, get out. I've things to do.'

Wyatt left the house knowing he had failed to secure any respite for the unfortunate Highlanders. He also knew his mission had been doomed long before it began. John Garrett was determined to dear the Kilmalie estates.

Wyatt was witnessing the destruction of a people for whom he cared deeply.

W
HEN JOHN GARRETT rode his horse into the mountains there was still a great deal of snow about, but others had passed this way within the past twenty-four hours. By following their tracks he was able to avoid the deeper drifts. Not until he reached the high mountain moors where tracks divided and led to individual cots and holdings did he encounter virgin snow. Here the horse occasionally floundered into a deep drift, but there was no fear of the factor losing his way across the trackless snow. He could see smoke spiralling to the sky from the smouldering Fraser cot that was his destination.

As he drew near, Garrett looked for signs of life. When he saw none he began to think Wyatt had deliberately sent him all this way on a fruitless journey. Probably so he might see for himself the handiwork of the constables from Fort William.

As Garrett approached the smouldering shell that had been the Fraser home, his anger rising, he saw a movement downhill from the house. Close to the fast-moving stream, Hamish Fraser stood up. His keen ears had detected the sound of the approaching factor.

There was a shelter of sorts close to the blind man, in a furrow in the ground scratched hundreds of centuries before by the finger of a glacier. For most of its length the furrow was filled with snow, but at one spot the snow had been scooped out, almost to grass. Laid across this hollow were half a dozen lengths of charred wood, topped with scorched-heather thatch, rescued from the burned cot.

There were many tracks leading to and from the crude shelter. Far more ominous, the snow to one side of the shelter was dyed red in a trampled area about six feet in diameter.

‘Who's that? What do you want with us now? Haven't you done enough? Leave us alone, do you hear?'

‘Stop your whining, Fraser. You should have thought of the consequences before taking in a man from outside the family. You knew it contravened your tenancy agreement.'

‘Factor! Donnie Ross married my daughter. He's my son-in-law!'

‘I don't give a damn who he is. Where's your daughter now? Where's Seonaid?'

‘II she's still alive, she'll be in the shelter. She stopped screaming more than an hour ago. I haven't heard a sound from her since. What are you going to do with us, Factor? What will you do with
me
? Will you leave a blind man to die in the snow without a roof ever his head?'

‘Here, hold my horse – and don't stand too close to him or he'll likely bolt.'

It was the end of a long spell of severe weather. Hamish Fraser had shared the cot with chickens and a cow, added to which was the pungent aroma of smoke from the burned cot.

John Garrett ducked inside the crude shelter and needed to remain stooping. The roof was no more than four feet high at its highest point. It was sheltered from wind in here, but the hard-packed snow on the ground provided proof it was no warmer than outside.

There was an untidy heap of damp thatch at the back of the shelter, piled against a wall of snow. When his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, John Garrett saw someone was lying on the primitive bed. It was Seonaid Fraser.

At first John Garrett thought she was dead, but as he moved closer she stirred.

‘Seonaid! Are you all right, girl?'

The reply to John Garrett's question was a faint whimper. He leaned closer – and suddenly he realised the sound had not come from Seonaid. She lay on the thatch-bed, her bare breast being nuzzled by a tiny wrinkled baby. The newborn child was wrapped in a piece of cloth that looked as though it might be an old dress. It was the baby who had whimpered. It repeated the sound now, nuzzling the nipple of Seonaid's breast with an impatient strength and unpractised instinct.

Suddenly there was a movement from Seonaid, and she fingered the nipple into the baby's mouth. It immediately began to suck, noisily and inefficiently.

‘What have you come here for? Do you have news of Donnie, or
have you come to burn the shelter, too? If you have, you'll be adding murder to eviction. I'll not move.'

‘I called for the eviction warrant months ago. The decision to enforce it now was made by the sheriff.' John Garrett's voice sounded strangely hoarse, even to himself. ‘The baby … is it young Ross's child?'

‘Donnie
is
my husband, although I might well be a widow now if the constables didn't stop beating him before they reached Fort William.'

‘That isn't what I asked.' Some of John Garrett's irritable arrogance returned to him. ‘Nine months ago you were still visiting me at Corpach. I want to know about the child.'

‘Why? Would you be able to marry me if I told you he was your son? Could you give him
your
name? God knows, he'd be ashamed of it after today's happenings. No. He'll grow up bearing the name of Ross and learn to hate John Garrett.' There was no mirth, only pain in Seonaid's short laugh. ‘How will it feel, knowing your own son is growing up hating
you
more than anyone else does?'

‘Then, it is my child … my
son
.'

Something akin to awe crept into John Garrett's voice. He moved closer and crouched over the makeshift bed to peer down at the noisily feeding infant.

‘Seonaid … why didn't you
tell
me? I'd have taken care of you
and
the child. You can remember how we used to talk when we were together? I told you then how I've always longed for a son. I've wanted one more than anything else in my life. You didn't need to marry anyone, or be reduced … to this.'

John Garrett's gesture encompassed the primitive shelter and Seonaid's bed of scorched thatch. ‘You and the baby can't stay here. I'll send someone up and have you moved. Where do you want to go? It can't be Eskaig. I wouldn't be able to visit you there. I'll give you a house in Fort William – or even Edinburgh, if that's what you want. I could come there and stay with you both—'

‘Are you forgetting I'm a married woman, John Garrett? I'm Mrs Donnie Ross.'

‘It's no more of a marriage than mine. You're suckling
my
baby. My
son
.' There was a strange timbre in John Garrett's voice that might have been excitement or emotion. ‘I'll take care of him – and of you. I've always said I would. You know I have.'

‘Then, why am I lying here on stinking damp thatch, in a hole in the snow, with not so much as a stick of furniture, or even a fire to warm me?'

As Seonaid finished speaking she began to cough. Unexpectedly robbed of the teat from which it had been drawing sustenance, the baby first complained, then began a desperate sucking search.

John Garrett watched in awed fascination for a moment or two, then he ducked outside the flimsy shelter.

Hamish Fraser was still holding the reins of the factor's horse. The animal had found a patch of stunted grass where the heat of the burning cot had melted the snow. It was impossible to tell whether Seonaid's father had heard the conversation between his daughter and the Kilmalie factor. He was some way from the shelter but he had exceptionally good hearing.

‘Fraser, leave the horse to graze. It won't go far. Get a fire going by the shelter for Seonaid and the baby.'

‘Why should you care about either of them?' Hamish grumbled the question as he made his way towards the ruins of the cot. ‘Would you care if I was up here alone, with nothing to warm me? And what of Seonaid's man? Will you be visiting Fort William tolbooth to see that they've made
him
comfortable?'

John Garrett was not listening. Striding to his horse, he removed the saddle and stripped the blanket that served as a saddle-cloth from the animal's back. Ducking inside the makeshift shelter once more, he laid the blanket over the lower half of Seonaid's body.

‘It's not much, but with the fire it will keep you alive.' Reaching inside a deep coat-pocket, he pulled out a large pewter flask. ‘Here, it's brandy. It'll warm you if the fire burns low. I'll come up here myself first thing in the morning to take you to Fort William.'

‘What of Donnie? He was hurt when they took him away.'

‘I can do nothing for young Ross. That's between him and the sheriff. I'm only concerned for you and the baby. The estate owns a number of houses in Fort William; you can move into one of them for a while. I'll have provisions bought ready for you.'

John Garrett leaned over the thatch-bed, and for a moment there was an expression on his face that only Evangeline Garrett would have recognised. He raised his hand as though to touch the tiny baby. Instead he lowered the hand again and backed away.

‘Tell your father to build as big a fire as he can for tonight.' John Garrett hesitated before straightening up at the entrance to the primitive shelter. ‘It might be better if you moved back inside the shell of the cot. It will be out of the wind—'

‘No!' Seonaid's reply was emphatic. ‘We'll not return to the cot. Neither will we take a Kilmalie house in Fort William unless you put it in writing that we can't be turned out whenever you've a mind. And we'll want payment for what was destroyed.'

Seonaid was in great discomfort. The birth had been uncomplicated and instinctive, but painful. Yet her mind was clearer than it had ever been. She had seen the fight between Donnie and the sheriff's men. It had been brief but vicious, and one of the men had been bleeding profusely when they dragged Donnie away.

He would be taken before the magistrate in Fort William and imprisoned for months, perhaps even a year or more. In the meantime Seonaid, her father and the baby would need to survive without him. Who better to look after them than John Garrett?

‘When you've written it down you can give it to Minister Jamieson. If he says it's all right, I'll go to your house. If not….' Seonaid shrugged. ‘I'll stay up here with the baby.'

The suggestion that Wyatt should be made aware of the arrangement almost brought Seonaid's scheming to an abrupt end. John Garrett drew in his breath with the intention of telling her he would
never
agree to Wyatt becoming involved. Just then the baby made a diminutive protest as drowsiness coupled with lack of experience caused the food-source to escape him yet again.

‘You'll have a secure tenancy, but don't push me too far, woman. I have only to walk away from here and forget you ever existed and you'll have no hope for the present, or a future.
Nothing
.'

‘Nothing … except the baby.' Seonaid jerked the baby away from her breast roughly, and the unkind severance caused the surprised child to break into a thin uneven wailing.

‘Be ready to move in the morning.'

John Garrett ducked clear of the shelter as Hamish Fraser came from the cot, the wind coaxing flames from a charred piece of wood held in his hand as he felt his way with his feet.

John Garrett made no move to help the blind man. Saddling the horse, he swung to its back.

‘Be sure you're ready to leave in the morning, Fraser. I have other work to do and I'll not waste a full day on you.' Having issued this warning, the factor turned his horse and rode away.

When Hamish Fraser had peat blocks piled about and over the crackling beam and he was satisfied the fire would not die, he went inside the shelter where Seonaid lay with her baby.

‘What was the factor talking about? Where are we going?'

‘He's giving us a house in Fort William. It's rent-free, and no one will be able to throw us out or burn it about our ears.'

‘I don't want to live in Fort William! It's a
town
. We don't know anyone there.'

‘Donnie's in Fort William. The sheriff's men carried him off, remember? I've got to find out what's happened to him. Besides, we can't stay here. We'd freeze to death in a week.'

‘What about your mother…?'

‘What about her? You never concerned yourself with her when she was alive. She's had more attention from you since she died than she ever got when she was with us – and if
you
don't stop complaining you'll not live long….' Seonaid picked the baby up roughly and fed the nipple of a swollen breast into its mouth yet again.

Hamish Fraser stood silently outside the shelter for some minutes, his head bowed. When he straightened up, he asked: ‘Why should Garrett suddenly be doing this for us? I don't understand what's going on. First he clears all our neighbours out but allows us to stay. Then he gives us notice to quit and because we're not fast enough sends the sheriff's men here to burn us out. Then he comes here to offer us a house in Fort William….' The blind man shook his head in bewilderment. ‘It's all beyond me.'

Seonaid swung her feet to the ground, ignoring the crying baby left lying on the bed beside her. ‘Don't try to understand John Garret. He doesn't understand himself. You've got to play him at his own game. Take everything you can and give nothing in return. Oh,
shut up
!'

Seonaid picked up the tiny baby and shook it. The baby's crying became even more distressed, and Seonaid dumped it roughly on the coarse heather-thatch bed.

‘God! He's not four hours old and I've had enough of him already.'

Standing up unsteadily, Seonaid took a tentative step towards the entrance to the shelter.

‘Out of the way, Father. If I don't do something with that fire, it'll go out. And Garrett was right about one thing: we're going to feel the cold tonight.'

Kneeling beside the fire, Seonaid rearranged the peat turfs, allowing the chill wind more access. ‘Go and find more peat. As much as you can.'

Hamish Fraser grumbled until Seonaid began shouting abuse at him. Surprised into silence, Hamish Fraser stumbled away to carry out his daughter's shrill instructions.

Not until he was well upon his way did Seonaid lapse into silence. Huddled over the fire, head bowed, a tear rolled from her eye and was lost in the fire with hardly a sound.