Spirit of the Revolution (30 page)

Mathias shrugged and shot a conspiratorial glance at Sam. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, isn’t that what they say? And as it turned out, the risk didn’t exist.”

“Now there’s no need to give us that look of recrimination, lass,” Sam said. “We’re here safe and sound, and we’ll get home the same way.”

“Let’s hope,” Jo retorted as she picked up her luggage, and made her way into the first bedroom. After she hung up her dresses and put away her clothing, she turned on the shower faucets, in anticipation of a nice hot shower.

Sometime later, after sampling the stew and tidying up the kitchen, Jo curled up in the large overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. She discovered a book in her bedroom bookcase detailing the history of the Scottish clans and turned to the pages dealing with Clan McGregor. She laughed when the first reference to the clan defined them as troublemakers, born with a “natural unruliness.” As she kept reading the history, if the author used reliable sources, she could see where he might consider the statement factual. The remark made her wonder, though—

“Mathias,” she began in feigned seriousness. “Would you say the men who comprised Morgan’s Rangers descended mostly from the Scots?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Mathias replied. “Colonel Morgan commanded hundreds of men and most of those men were naught but acquaintances. However, I’m certain some of them must’ve had some Scottish blood flowing through their veins. Why do you ask?”

Jo shrugged, and lifted a hand to cover her traitorous mouth. “Oh, it’s just this reference here to the ‘natural born unruliness’ of your trouble-making ancestral clansman. The description kind of fits with what the books said about the Rangers, that’s all.”

Mathias, along with Sam, laughed outright over her comment and she hurried through the following pages looking for additional evidence to boost the claim.

“What else does it say about the McGregor clan?” Mathias sat in the chair next to hers and leaned toward her. “You’ve managed to pique my interest.”

“Well, let’s see here.” The abhorrent words put a knot in her stomach. “Did you know that in the year 1603, King James signed an edict which allowed anyone who desired it, the authority to kill anyone with the name McGregor? They didn’t need just cause, either. Simply having the name was enough. The king sought the annihilation of your entire clan.”

Jo looked up from the book and met Mathias’s gaze. “The chapter goes on to say they hunted down and slaughtered hundreds of McGregors. They forced those who survived to change their name or flee to the safety of Ireland, along with other political outcasts of Scotland. And the women had either to change their name or wear a brand in their foreheads.”

Mathias nodded as he toyed with his clasped fingers. “Yes, my family was aware of that part of our family’s history, though we rarely talked about. My great grand uncle, the Reverend James McGregor, supplied the means to transport hundreds of Scotsmen from the shores of Ireland to the Colonies in the year 1718. My grandfather, Angus McGregor, sailed with him, thus these men became the first in my family to step foot on American soil.”

“Did you know your grandfather?” she asked, thinking about all the tales he could’ve spun that would have fascinated a young boy.

“He died before I was born,” Mathias replied, offering no more than that.

“Well, I’m glad they decided to come,” Jo said as she lifted her eyes from the page to meet his gaze.

“I am too,” Mathias whispered.

The look he gave her quite easily stole her breath and at once, she returned to the book, hoping he didn’t notice. “Well, thankfully, they officially repealed the law in the year 1774. But they shouldn’t have sanctioned it in the first place.”

“No, they shouldn’t have. But you must remember when speaking about the character of the Scots, the McGregors hardly took the prize for unruly, natural-born troublemaking,” said Sam. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I, myself, wouldn’t know anything about the subject at all.”

Leave it to Sam to make her laugh. As she continued through the pages, she found and then related the stories of their more notable clansmen, their acts of bravery, strength, leadership, and the places they held in Scottish history. Mathias and Sam inherited these very same qualities from their forebears.

Of course, imagining them dressed in a fringed leather “mountain man” kilt while they attended their duties, proved somewhat amusing to her psyche. That night her mind concocted all sorts of strange dreams, featuring the boys dressed in such manner. Because of those dreams, she welcomed the alarm clock with open arms though her body protested the hour. She got out of bed and donned the long-sleeved white T-shirt and jeans she laid out the night before. After she dressed, she headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast.

“Good morning, Mathias, Sam. Did you both sleep well?” she teased when she found them in the kitchen, looking at her laptop screen.

“Who could sleep with all of that snoring going on in the bedroom?” countered Sam. “With that racket going on, I popped outside looking for a bear, thinking surely one roamed the premises. Couldn’t find a thing, though. That led me to believe we didn’t have a bear at all.”

Jo just laughed while she poured herself a bowl of cereal. And then as she sat at the table to eat, she said, “I think as soon as I’m finished with my breakfast, we’ll head to the Scottish archives in Edinburgh. After all, I really have no idea how long it’s going to take us to find what we’re looking for, so we should get an early start.” She nodded at the computer then as she swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Did we get anything from the boys?”

“Nope, not yet,” Sam said. “They’re probably too busy kicking themselves for staying home.”

“Or” Mathias added, “perhaps they’re still out to Joshua’s, looking for another clue.”

“Well, hopefully, we can help them by finding something here,” she said.

Four hours later, Jo glanced down at her watch. She yawned and stretched a bit before turning her attention to the record book in front of her. How many such books had they looked through so far with nothing to show for it? She sat there staring at the large file of notes she compiled into her laptop in the hope that something, anything, might jump out at her. Jo propped her arm on the table and rested her chin atop her closed hand. She must’ve looked lost because at that very moment, one of the curators approached her.

“Is thare somethin’ Ah kin hulp you with?” he asked.

He listened attentively to her explanation. “Weel, Ah wuid think if yer Thomas McGregor sauld any o’ his property in Scootlund, he wuid huv done so in person. Would you happen to knoo if he made any trips here, an’ if so, th’ approximate dates he made thaim? Perhaps yer lookin’ at the wrong time.”

Why didn’t she think of that? “Actually, he did make a few trips here. I don’t have the dates with me, but let me make a phone call, and I’ll see if I can get them.” For whatever reason, it never occurred to her to take notes from Thomas’s journal.

Despite several tries, she couldn’t get a connection from her cell phone at her present location. She glanced down at her laptop, hoping against hope one of the boys could hear her computer at home. A musical bell sounded when an e-mail arrived. She typed the request.

I need someone to look through Thomas’s journal and find the dates he visited Scotland. And I need them as fast as you can get them to me. Jo.

For the next several minutes the man, who introduced himself as Ronald Murray, made friendly conversation with her while she waited for a reply. She introduced herself in turn, and from the highly publicized concerts, he recognized her name. Knowing the master violinist from America sat at his table, he doubled his efforts in trying to help her find Thomas McGregor’s land records. He even began going through some of the records himself. A short while later, she received an answer from William.

First recorded trip March 17 1773 second trip August 23 1775 hope I got it fast enough for you. William.

After showing Mr. Murray the dates, he retrieved the volumes she needed. She read each of the entries. Much to her disappointment, she didn’t find the name McGregor in the March/April 1773 volumes. She turned to the second volume and found a single reference to the surname, only it didn’t name Thomas.

“This entry has a McGregor, but it is for a Catherine Campbell McGregor and not a Thomas.” She pointed to the entry so Mathias and Sam could see it too.

Ronald nodded in agreement, shrugged and said, “So it is—”

“That’s it. Catherine Campbell is Thomas’s wife,” Mathias whispered. “Perhaps the land is part of her inheritance or something along those lines.”

Jo looked up at Ronald and said, “Yes, but that’s the name of Thomas McGregor’s wife.” She found it a little difficult to talk to a ghost and a mortal person at the same time. “I believe this information is exactly what we—what I’m looking for.”

“Och, that’s guid news,” Ronald replied, his satisfaction obvious. “Alloo me, if you wull—”

Jo waited, as he looked the document over and then pointed to the barely legible name at the bottom.

“Thomas McGregor sauld this laund, so noted here, to Archibald Campbell oan th’ twenty-ninth day of August in th’ year 1775, an’ fur whit, they considered in those days, a guidly sum. Ah shuid think this property wis either a portion o’ her inheritance or given as part o’ her dowry. Then Ah wuid theorize, she an’ her huisband sauld it back, to a brither perhaps, or some other relative who may huv been feelin’ a wee bit generoos. Lit me make you a copy o’ this transaction fur yer records, Miss Michaelsson. A’ll be richt back.”

“Well, that solves that part of the puzzle,” Sam said with a satisfied expression on his face.

“And introduces another,” Mathias said. “What did he do with the proceeds from the sale? The probate record made no mention of such a sum.”

Jo could only shrug in response as Mr. Murray once again approached her table.

“Ah hud anither thooght if ye’r interested,” Ronald said as he handed her the copy of the record. “Mony times oor eighteenth or nineteenth century colonial visitors purchased things while they wur here. Och, they wuid buy pieces o’ furniture, linens, dinnerware, gowns, an’ th’ like. A ship’s manifest micht reveal if yer Thomas McGregor purchased somethin’ nice fur his wife or family. These things flesh oot a family history an’ add mair than jist names an’ dates. Shall Ah tak’ a look an’ see whit Ah can fin’ fur you?”

One hour later, Jo and the boys exited the building. They remained quiet as they got inside the car and during most of the return drive to the cottage. The day supplied them with an answer they had sought for months and the knowledge of their discovery thrilled them no end. But it also managed to open up a completely new set of questions.

“Tell me, Mathias,” Samuel finally said as he fixed his gaze out the window. “What in the blazes would your cousin want with seven tons of iron castings, smelted in county Argyll?”

Chapter 24

They discussed the mystery over the next several days. E-mails flew back and forth across the continents so everyone could share their ideas. But then again, Jo’s rehearsal schedule precluded them from doing much of anything else. One thing remained certain: Thomas couldn’t have transported actual cannon or gun parts. No captain would allow such cargo on board their ship, even though many Scottish sympathizers to the American cause would’ve looked the other way. However, at that particular time in history, no one wanted to risk the wrath of the English Crown, least of all the Scots.

“We may never know for sure why Thomas shipped so much iron to the Colonies, Sam,” Mathias said when it seemed they discussed every conceivable notion at least half a dozen times already. “But I think we can conclude whatever its purpose, he intended to use it toward the war effort, and for now, that’s enough.”

“We are agreed on that issue,” Sam said. “Still, you have to admit that seven tons of iron could be melted down and recast into—”

“Just about anything,” Jo finished as she adjusted the mirror inside the car. “Come on, guys. Let’s put the iron on the backburner, and just enjoy the day. Lest you forgot, this is one of the few days we have to spend in its entirety and do as we please.”

Mathias bowed his apologies. “You’re right, of course, and I promise we won’t mention the subject again today. So, where are we going first?”

“The museum that houses the works of James Watt. We talked about that before leaving home as you might recall. I think we’ll go there first and then head off to some of the castles on our list. I really don’t know how many of them we’ll have time to see today, because I don’t know how long each of them will take to explore. From my own experiences, one can spend anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours depending upon what’s available and open to the public.”

In a little less than an hour, they arrived at the museum and as advertised, they displayed many of James Watt’s marvelous accomplishments and inventions. Among other things, the exhibit included the improvements he made to various musical instruments. This portion of the exhibit, especially intrigued Jo and she pointed out the differences between the versions. Several of Watts’s early conceptual drawings, as well as his plans for the steam engine pump sat near the display of the famous Boulton-Watt steam engine. All of these things, along with his portrait, surrounded a life-sized statue of the man.

“I can see why your cousin spoke so highly of James Watt,” Jo whispered as she gazed at the statue, which appeared to stare right back. “I wonder if during any of their scholarly conversations, Thomas ever suspected James would become so famous and so well loved among the Scottish people, especially given his troubled beginnings.”

“Probably not,” Mathias replied. “In all likelihood Thomas considered himself in the company of a kindred soul as they exchanged knowledge and ideas.”

“Well, it’s a shame James didn’t live long enough to see some of his ideas come to full fruition,” she said. “Perhaps some of the things he and Thomas talked about are right here on display.”