The Rogues (9 page)

“At Culloden they all died,” somebody called out.

“Aye, but like men,” Tam said, loudly and with feeling.

“This is nae battle,” Da objected at last. “It's farming and business. There's nowt to charge.”

“If we let the sheep in here as they are in Glendoun,” I told him, “it willna be long before there's no place for any of us on Kindarry land. There'll be nothing but sheep and a laird growing fat on the profit he takes from them.” I bit my lower lip, then charged ahead. “Lachlan and I chased the sheep as a game. But if we all worked together, we could drive them back to their English homes.”

“Drive them all the way back to England?” asked Colin. “We could never make it that far. And what would become of our farms while we were gone?”

“No all the way to England,” I said carefully. “Just to Kindarry House. If the laird loves the sheep so much, let him take care of them himself and give us our cattle back.”

There was some laughter at this foolish talk, but I heard a voice say, “There's some point to this laddie's words.” I tried to see who it was, but the kirk was too dark for that.

“He's said what many a man here was feerd to,” added another from out of the dark congregation.

“Do ye want to go up against the law?” Colin asked, wagging a bony finger. “Do ye want to end up a fugitive like Alan Dunbar?”

“The laird's bent on making us that, if we let him,” I answered. “Isn't it better to make a fight of it?”

“Aye,” Lachlan piped up, holding up a fist, “let's make a fight of it.”

Tam turned to Da. “Roddy's yer boy, Murdo. What do ye say? Is he daft?”

“He's daft most of the time,” said Da, and the men laughed. “But …” He hesitated and I felt my heart pause too. “But maybe no today. As I now see it, we would still only be bringing our grievances before the laird, which is our right. But we'd be bringing the cause of our grievances there as well. We willna be fighting the laird, but asking his aid. And offering our own.”

“Bringing our grievances …” The phrase went around the men.

“Aye,” said Tam, “it
could
work.” He rubbed his hand against his nose.

I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding. The kirk seemed suddenly filled with light, and I realized that the clouds had moved away from the sun. A few more voices called out their approval, and those few calls quickly became a roar.

Lachlan leaned close to me and whispered, “For yer sake I hope this turns out well.”

“Ye agreed with me!” I rounded on him.

“Aye, but just to stir things up,” he answered with a crooked smirk. “Mind ye, I never thought yer idea would work.”

I jammed my elbow into his ribs, and he doubled half over, but that didn't wipe the grin from his face.

We strode home proudly, like soldiers returning from a great victory, not something a Highlander knows a lot about. We laughed and joked along the way. Even Da seemed excited about what we had decided, as if it had been his own idea.

The last of the afternoon sun was once again disappearing behind dark clouds. That did nothing to dampen our spirits. But as we drew closer to our cottage, our confident steps faltered. When we could smell the peat fire, we stopped, as if signaled to halt.

Da began to chew on his mustache. I knew what he was thinking. Ma had always cheered us on in our endeavors, but Ishbel was different. What would she make of this turn of events?

We held back until we looked foolish, all three of us standing nervously in front of the door, and Lachlan said, “Da?” And Da grunted, squared his shoulders, and pushed through into the cottage.

Ishbel was bent over the cook pot with her back turned toward us, the light of the peat fire blazing a halo around her. “So yer home at last,” she said without looking around.

“Aye, home and hungry too,” said Da, staring at the table that wasn't yet set for dinner.

We boys didn't say a word but simply sat down quickly on our stools.

“There's fresh water in the bucket,” Ishbel said.

After a pause, Da added, “Best see to it, boys.”

We went to the bucket and took turns washing our faces and hands. When we sat down again, we wiped our palms dry on our jerkins. I smiled at Ishbel's back.

Lifting four wooden bowls down from the shelf, she ladled stew into them, turned and held them out to us one at a time, along with wooden spoons. We stood, grabbed the bowls, then sat again, spooning the vegetables into our mouths with hardly a pause for breath, as if that could keep us from talking.

Ishbel took a slow spoonful from her own bowl and asked, “So, what was the end of yer meeting?”

Lachlan and I kept shoveling the food in and let Da answer her.

“If ye were so curious, ye should have come along,” he said. “Some women were there.”

“With their husbands, I would guess,” Ishbel retorted sharply. “I'm an outsider here. There'd be no place for me.”

Da shrugged. “There was a lot of talk,” he said slowly. “That's all.”

“There's always a lot of talk,” said Ishbel, shrugging back at him. “But is anything to be done?”

Da took another mouthful of stew and chewed it thoughtfully. He chewed so thoroughly, he must have made mush. At last he said, “We're sending a deputation.”

“To the laird?” She held up her spoon.

“Of course to the laird, woman,” said Da.

“To do what?” She leaned forward.

“To ask him politely to release the cattle.”

Ishbel huffed derisively. “And why should he listen? It's a poor pipe that blows only wind.”

“Because we'll be taking all the sheep with us!” Lachlan piped up loudly.

Da glared at him, but it was too late.

“The sheep?” Ishbel repeated. “Ye mean the sheep from Glendoun?”

Da nodded mutely.

“And whose cracked notion was that?” She stood and went over to stir the fire, which made shadows dance around the table.

We all three stared down into our bowls, but I could see Lachlan's eyes flicking toward me. My belly began to twist into a tight knot. If Ishbel knew I was behind it, if she thought I was getting the family into trouble, I'd be living on thistles and silence for a week.

Ishbel's question hung over us like a sharpened ax dangling from a thread as she returned to the table and sat down again.

Finally Da said, “It was Alan Dunbar who stirred things up.”

I let out a silent breath.

Cocking an eyebrow, Ishbel asked, “And what was that rogue doing at a meeting of decent folk?”

“He came to sell whisky,” said Lachlan brightly. Then he fell silent.

“By the sound of it, ye must all have drunk yer fill.”

“No one bought a drop of his brew,” said Da.

“Then why have ye taken up this mad scheme?”

Into the new silence that greeted her question, I finally threw an answer. “His words affected us strongly. Better than any brew.”

“
His words
!” Ishbel repeated mockingly. “And is Alan Dunbar a minister that ye should listen so closely to him? He poaches off the laird's land and worse besides.”

“He's bold,” said Lachlan, “and takes his lead from nae man. I heard he once stole a whole herd of a neighboring laird's cattle all by himself, took them all the way to Edinburgh. He sold them at the market before the sheriff's men could catch him.”

I could see from Ishbel's stern expression that was the wrong thing to say, and I decided to leap to Dunbar's defense. “I heard he killed twenty Frenchmen at the Battle of Waterloo,” I said quickly, “and took a gold coin from the emperor Napoleon himself!”

“Aye, it's easy to believe he was killing and thieving even then,” said Ishbel, changing my words.

“It's all rumors, Ishbel,” Da said quietly, looking steadily at her. “And nobody should be condemned because of rumor.”

Ishbel fell silent, and her brow wrinkled. Next her eyes filled with tears, and she stood up again, going over to stir what was left of the stew with a shaking hand.

Da meant the rumors that had spread through the village about him and Ishbel, of course, rumors that they lived as man and wife without being married in the kirk. Lachlan and I knew they slept apart and sometimes didn't even speak to each other for days. We knew that any soft words between them were so rare as to be small miracles. So if
those
rumors weren't true, maybe the things said about Alan Dunbar weren't true either. At least I thought that was what Da meant. But I hoped Dunbar really did have Napoleon's coin. I would dearly love to see it.

Ishbel turned back, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I canna see that ye'll get justice from theft.”

“It's nae theft,” said Da. “We're taking the sheep direct to the laird's house. And asking him to remember what bonds are between a laird and his kin.”

“And if ye're caught before ye arrive there? Nae matter what ye mean to do, it's the likeness of what yer doing ye'll be hanged for.”

Da looked down and said to his bowl, “What would ye have us do, Ishbel?”

“I understand now, even if ye dinna, that times are changing,” she said slowly. “This poor country life is doomed. When there's a flood coming, ye have to move to higher ground. It's that or be drowned.”

Da looked up and said quietly, “Ye want me to leave this land my family has lived on for generations?”

She nodded, gazing straight into his eyes. “Yes, Murdo. Leave their graves behind before ye join them.”

I held my breath, and I could hear Lachlan doing the same. The fire in the hearth too seemed to stop burning for the moment.

“Ye speak easily of abandoning graves when ye have nane to leave,” Da said.

Ishbel stood and stacked the empty bowls together with a loud clatter. “Yer wife was my cousin, and dinna ye forget it. I have graves here as well. But there's places we can go while we've still got a choice and not lying in our own dirt.”

I suddenly remembered what Josie had said to me. “Do ye mean going to the New World?” I burst out.

“Nae such nonsense,” said Ishbel. “I mean the cities—Glasgow, Aberdeen. There's work to be had for those with willing hands.”

Lachlan snorted. He knew what Da's answer would be before it was spoken. As did I.

“Locked up behind brick walls, laboring all day out of sight of the sun, and all for another man's profit?” Da's tone would have withered an oak tree.

“And what profit do ye expect to find here?” Ishbel demanded sharply.

He glared at her. “There's profit in the old ways, of a man plowing the fields that his father and grandfather plowed before him. Of putting my hand on the trunk of a great tree that I planted as a boy. Of knowing that my sons will visit my grave after I am gone.”

“It's nae longer yer choice, Murdo,” she said in a sudden quiet voice. “The laird's mind is set.”

“We'll see tomorrow,” Da answered grimly. “We'll take the bloody sheep to the poxy laird and find out how set his mind really is. But we'll do it gently.” He slammed the flat of his hand down on the table. “And that is that.” Da turned and walked out of the cottage, leaving Lachlan and me to face Ishbel alone.

But she turned her shining eyes to the hearth and said simply, “Go after him. I'll no be having him going to the laird's in the morning hung over from angry drinking.”

So we went.

9 THE RAID

Da didn't get drunk, nor did we follow him far, only to the kirkyard, where we heard him talking to Ma in her grave. A small cross marked the spot, still looking fresh amid so many moss-covered stones, with the kirk looming black against the darkening sky. Da went down on one knee, a hand touching his brow.

We stood back and didn't eavesdrop. There are times when a man's sons have to leave him alone. Besides, we each had our own times talking to Ma. Mine mostly took place in the morning once or twice a month, after my chores. Usually after Da had had at my backside with his belt.

When we went back to the cottage, we spoke no more about what had been said. I think we all longed for the morning and action.

The morning was overcast, three layers of clouds crowding the sky and all of them threatening rain. My stomach churned as if a battle were being fought there. I had grown up on the tales of clan cattle raids and border skirmishes, battles against the redcoats and the bloody great wars. It was never the victory that mattered, only a man's courage, we were told, mostly because though we Scots managed to win a few battles, we rarely won the wars.

Yet as we marched out the door, sticks in hand, I wondered: Had any of my ancestors felt the way I did at this moment? Had their bellies turned like butter in a churn as they went on their way to the fight?

Lachlan seemed to be taking everything in his stride as we followed Da down to the crossroads. Crows followed us as we went, crossing and recrossing overhead and commenting on everything below.

I said to Lachlan, “Bad sign,” pointing up at the black birds, but Lachlan only laughed.

“Cheer up, Roddy!” he said, slapping me on the back. “This is going to be a rare lark.”

“Lark, not crow?” I said through parched lips. “And if it all goes wrong, I'll be the one taking the blame.”

“Oh, dinna carry on so,” he told me cheerily, waving his stick. “The notion was already hanging in the air. Like an apple on a tree ready for the picking. Only it was you that plucked it.”

Thinking of apples tart off the tree set my stomach roiling again. Which made me think about the meager breakfast I'd managed. Those few spoonfuls of porridge weighed me down as if I'd eaten a sack of neeps. I set my lips together and looked away.

At the crossroads, with a small raw wind rising and a sky threatening rain, we met up with the men and boys of our village.