Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 26

  William bet three pence on his new hand. “Once the castle is built, I fear the good jobs shall disappear. What we need in Glenartair is manufacturin’ of some sort,” he suggested.

  “What sort of manufacturin’?” Charles asked.

  “More Scottish ale would suit me fine,” said Gavin. “Cannae ever have enough of that.”

  “Clothin’,” said Charles, “and why not. Why should the shirt factories in America and England have such a large share in the market?”

  Gavin folded his cards and grinned. “Charles means to make women’s hats and try them all on himself.”

  Alistair chuckled, and then grew serious. “I think women’s hats a fine idea. Premade shirts for men and women’s undergarments are always in demand. Just ask my wife.”

  Nicholas stared at his butler. “Are you thinking of changing professions?”

  “Why not?” asked Alistair. “‘Tis done all the time. Besides, if we all six...” he paused to look at the way Charles, William and Gavin were shaking their heads. “We all three, then,” he muttered more quietly.

  “I think it a fine idea,” said Nicholas. “I have little to do these days and I shall be happy to look into it.”

  “Women’s undergarments?” Charles snickered. “I cannae picture you doin’ that.”

  Alistair frowned. “Come to think of it, neither can I.”

  HE HAD A LITTLE TOO much to drink at the poker game, but since Charles had also and was likely at home in bed, it seemed the perfect time to ride out to the castle. Besides he was curious. He wanted to see if the telephone lines had been repaired. He might have called, but he thought that too obvious. Besides, the call could be easily traced.

  All day he had been thinking of a way to get past the guards and quite by accident, an idea presented itself. It was just in time too, particularly since Charles mentioned that one of the old walls was weak and might fall.

  The days were getting longer and Scotland being so far north had its advantages when it came to the many hours of light. In fact, it was just as light out late at night as it was in early morning. The light let him more easily see where the guards were, and neither of them appeared to be asleep. That too was to his advantage. This time he rode his horse through the trees, halted right behind the graveyard, and dismounted.

  He opened his pouch and removed two items. Slowly, he brought the megaphone to his lips and began to blow into it. Neither of the guards looked his direction, so he blew a little harder. That caught Tom’s attention, although it looked as if he could not guess where the sound was coming from. Ally waited until Tom dismissed the noise, pulled out his tin flask and began to unscrew the cap.

  Just before Tom got it off, an eerie, more frightening sound met his ears and he nearly lost control of his entire flask.

  On a bullhorn, Ally again blew the lowest possible note into the megaphone, increased the volume little, and then let it taper off.

  Tom’s hands began to shake as he tried twice to get the flask back in his pocket. When he looked, the guard at the other end of the glen started toward the graveyard, but when the awful noise came again...louder this time, the guard ran for his horse, mounted and raced away. Tom often said he was not afraid of anything, but he had never heard a sound like that before and worse still, he was convinced it was coming from the graveyard. The third time he heard it; he too went to his horse, mounted and left the glen.

  In the forest, Ally almost forgot himself and laughed into the megaphone. Just in time, he remembered, put it and the horn back in the pouch. He mounted, made his way to the castle, got down again and walked to the outside of the only remaining kitchen wall. He looked it over, and then put his hands on the wall to see just how unstable it was. Charles was right. It was very unstable. One hard push with both hands didn’t do it, so he put his back to it and then pushed with all his might.

  As soon as the wall began to fall, he hopped out of the way. The burned rocks hit the floor with a loud bang, scattered and then the glen fell silent once more. Worried the guards would come back, Ally immediately got on his horse and headed back to the forest. Unfortunately, he only got halfway across the glen before he heard a fierce growl and saw the sharp teeth of a vicious dog. His horse heard it too, reared up and nearly threw Ally off. He got a tighter grip on the reins, forced the horse onward, and soon left the dog behind.

  He might have been killed, and it was Charles’ fault, Ally quietly complained. Charles had not said a word about a dog. He rode away from the glen, calmed his horse down, went home, and fell into bed.

  It was not until morning he realized that pushing the scorched wall down blackened the back of a good shirt. Frustrated, he wadded it up, tossed it in the hearth of his rundown cottage, and got ready to go to work.

  He lost more often at poker than he won too. Last night just wasn’t his night.

  CHAPTER 16

  ALLY DID NOT MEAN TO spy on McKenna. She just happened to catch his eye more often than was common. Her white hat and dress, which was adorned with purple and lavender flowers, suited her personality perfectly, he thought. Once, when she spotted him, she smiled and curtsied just the way she used to do when they were teenagers. He was never quite certain why she did that, but it always made him mad. In retaliation, he laughed at her.

  On Sunday, most everyone attended the church of their choice and with the shops all closed, spent the rest of the day resting as they should. Nevertheless, when one of them was in need, such as the newly Widowed MacGreagor and her three children, most everyone was happy to attend a bake sale and bazaar held in the church yard. The sun shone brightly, the ladies wore soft summer colors, white gloves and large brim hats, while the men left off their long coats and jackets exposing belted trousers, and white shirts with garters that held up the excess material in their sleeves. They also wore derby, bowler, and even top hats, with dress shoes if they had them.

  Table after table held every kind of pastry. After all, it was a bake sale. Jessie was especially proud of the way her Dundee cakes turned out. Other women donated cookies, shortbreads, oatcakes, black buns, ginger bread, and scones of every description – for a price, naturally. Still more tables held crafts, handmade clothing, quilts, and an assortment of soft baby blankets. McKenna bought two of those. There was also a table loaded with hats and two tables offering new and used donated tools, which were selling quite well.

  Once the men enjoyed all the pastries they could manage, they wandered off in groups to discuss politics, religion, automobiles, and women. It was not long before Gavin, William, Barclay and Charles joined Nicholas and Alistair. Charles especially was glad to get away from his wife’s hat table, leaned heavily against the blue Benz and folded his arms.

  “You dinna look so well,” Alistair said.

  Charles sighed, “Why is it that when a lad is the most tired, his wife wants to talk the whole night through?”

  “Because he more easily agrees to anythin’ she wants,” Alistair answered.

  “Talk about what?” Gavin asked.

  “It matters not,” Charles answered. “A wise lad must merely give the impression he is listenin’. ‘Tis not until mornin’ that he realizes what he has agreed to.”

  “You fell asleep,” Nicholas teased.

  “Aye,” Charles admitted, “but do you suppose she would let me sleep?”

  William chuckled, “Nay, she would not.”

  “There, you see, havin’ a wife is not always pleasurable.” He enjoyed William’s perplexed expression and then remembered something. “Nicholas, Tom called from the castle. I regret to say the kitchen wall has oddly fallen.”

  “You suspect it was pushed?” Nicholas asked.

  “It was weak, but not that weak.” Charles answered. “At least he dinna cut the phone lines this time.”

  Nicholas asked, “You are convinced it is a man doing this nonsense and not a woman?”

  “It could be a woman, though to topple a wall, she surely had help.” Charles answered. “I
tried, just to see if it would hold, and couldn’t make the wall fall. Unfortunately, replacin’ it shall add to the expense.”

  “I shall let Hannish know.”

  Standing next to Nicholas, Ally had to hide his smile. Apparently, neither of the guards mentioned the spooky sounds they heard, nor the way they fled the glen. It was a trick he meant to use only once, but now he was tempted to do it again. Just now however, he found himself watching McKenna, and a woman he had not seen in ages walking up behind her.

  “Ally still seems quite interested in you,” Charlotte whispered as she approached McKenna from behind. “At least that has not changed in all these years.”

  The voice sounded familiar, but it was not until they were face-to-face that McKenna recognized her oldest and dearest friend. “Charlotte! I heard you married and moved away.”

  She warmly returned McKenna’s hug. “I did, and now I am back.”

  McKenna’s housekeeper looped her arm through Charlotte’s. “‘Tis my sister, the one who sews,” said Norma.

  “This is your sister?” McKenna started. “Of course it is, you are Norma, that pesky little lassie who would not leave us be.”

  Norma giggled. “I have not changed a bit.”

  “She tells it true,” said Charlotte. She took McKenna’s hand. “Come sit with me, I have a thousand questions to ask you.” She directed McKenna to a couple of empty chairs on the grass and then stared at her friend’s face for a moment. “I swear you shall never get old. I have, and ‘tis not fair for you to yet be the flower you have always been.”

  “Kindness?” McKenna asked. “My, but you certainly have mellowed. Ten years ago, you said I was daft for goin’ to America.”

  “Ten years ago, I thought I knew everythin’, even whom I should marry. I was wrong.”

  “You must come for tea and tell me all about it.”

  “I am already comin’ to measure you for maternity clothes. Will Tomorrow do? I fear I am in need of the money.”

  McKenna patted the back of Charlotte’s hand. “I can think of no one I would rather pay. Have we not always had the same taste in clothin’?”

  “Is it true? Did Charles find books hidden under the castle?”

  “It is,” McKenna answered. “Nicholas, my husband, and Alistair are makin’ a copy so we may take them to the printers and share them with everyone. They are so wonderful. I cannae wait until everyone reads them.”

  “Shall you charge for the book?”

  McKenna leaned a little closer. “Only if my husband keeps losin’ at poker.”

  “The secret poker game everyone knows about?” Charlotte asked glancing at Charles.

  “That’s the one.”

  “However did you let Charles talk him into playin’?”

  McKenna giggled. “I fear my husband went quite willingly.”

  Charlotte was quiet for a moment. “Some hope to get their old positions back when the castle is finished, but others fear once the buildin’ stops, still more jobs shall be lost.”

  “You cannae guess.”

  “What?”

  “Alistair thinks to settin’ up a manufacturin’ company – women’s undergarments.”

  Charlotte could not contain her laughter and soon everyone was looking at the two of them. “This I must see.”

  “Well, ‘tis not a bad idea, manufacturin’, I mean, though I really think ladies undergarments needs a woman’s touch.”

  “Indeed,” Charlotte giggled.

  “And a lot of seamstresses.”

  Charlotte stopped laughing. “At a fair wage. I would trust Alistair to see to that.”

  “So would I. Can you not just picture our prim and proper butler holdin’ up a corset for all the world to see? They would never believe it and I would be forced to take a whole roll of pictures to send to my brothers.”

  “Perhaps Alistair shall be clever enough to hire a lass to sell them. Now there’s a profession I would greatly enjoy.”

  “Would you? In that case, I shall put in a good word.”

  “McKenna, is the duke comin’ home?”

  “I know not, but I rather doubt it. He is well established in Colorado and happy there, I think.”

  “Who shall live in the castle then?”

  “We shall – in the beginnin’ at least. Just now I am reminded. Do you remember uncle tellin’ of the first time the castle burned?”

  “I do not, and I was normally there when he was teachin’ Hannish the stories.”

  “Well, perhaps the new stories will answer that question.”

  “Why do you suppose the books were hidden under the castle?”

  “I know not the answer to that either, but I am eternally grateful they were, and even more so that Charles found them.”

  Just then, there was a ruckus up the street. McKenna and Charlotte stood up to see what was happening, but the crowd in front of them made it impossible to see. Taller than McKenna, Charlotte tried standing on tiptoe, and at last she saw the constable tightly holding the arm of a boy.

  “They say the boy went for a ride in his father’s automobile,” Nicholas said as he approached his wife. “Sadly, he neglected to ask permission.”

  “Who is it?” McKenna asked. She quickly introduced Charlotte, and then turned back to wait for her husband’s answer.

  “I suppose we shall find out soon enough,” he said. “My love, ‘tis hot out here. Time to take you home before you melt.”

  McKenna winked at Charlotte. “I am with child, you recall. He is the worst of all husbands at times like these.”

  “Good for him,” said Charlotte. She watched Nicholas gather cook Jessie, a woman she did not recognize, Alistair, four children and load them all into the two Mitchel automobiles. She waved, smiled and then whispered, “How I have missed you.” When she turned, she spotted Ally watching her, gave him her fondest smile, and curtsied the way she and McKenna did when they were teenagers. Ally pretended to laugh and then walked out of sight.

  THAT NIGHT, JESSIE served an especially delightful supper, consisting of chicken soup, potatoes, chicken pie, lima beans, baked custard, and rolls. Afterward, the men went off to do a little more copying of the book, and then brought it back after the children were put to bed. None too soon, either, for the women were having a hard time waiting for the rest of the story. Jessie acted just as eager, although Alistair was beginning to suspect she knew more than she let on.

  THE MACGREAGOR GLEN, 1371

  “It was in the days of Laird Neil that the Fergusons lost favor in the eyes of the MacGreagors. A clan war with the MacDonalds forced the MacGreagors to flee their home and seek protection as best they could in all directions. Although Laird Ferguson vowed to protect those that fled to his village, his word was not to be believed. Himself fearing the large and fierce MacDonalds, he betrayed the MacGreagors and sent several to their deaths.

  Neil moved his clan north, where we live now, and nothing more was said concerning the Fergusons, save in the telling of the old story. However, after the English invasion, the Fergusons moved north as well, and now live not so very far from the MacGreagor glen. For years, there lay an uneasy friendship between the two clans, but that was about to change”

  IN THE MACGREAGOR GLEN, morning chores went on as usual. A dog chased a stray cat, the chickens pecked at morsels of spilled grain, the cows mooed to be milked, and the sun rose in the east – just as it always did.

  With English lessons canceled for the foreseeable future, Balric concentrated on writing his stories, while Beitris did her cleaning. Seona stayed in bed. Determined not to disappoint the children, Elena held her morning class in the outer courtyard, and told the story of a brave warrior by the name of Clod. The children thought that the funniest name they had ever heard and were delighted with the story.

  From his favorite spot in the north tower, Michael watched the woman he loved, and tried, but still could not guess what he had said or done to cause a rift between them. In the village, the men prepare
d for battle, although they did not make a fuss over it, so as not to alarm the children. The women went to the river to fill their water buckets, set outside cottage doors, and began kneading and baking extra loaves of bread.

  All morning, they listened for the dreaded whistles, but no strangers came seeking to take Seona Dalldon from them. Apparently, there would be no fight and no spilled blood on her behalf – at least not yet.

  LATER THAT MORNING, ears perked up and people left their chores to watch when the whistles announced the approach of strangers. Even though the whistles did not signal imminent danger, Michael raced up to the second floor of the north tower to see for himself. The man and woman, escorted by six guards, sat tall atop matching white horses as they slowly walked them up the road in the middle of the glen. Behind them, a guard led a colt with an unusual coat the color of red fox fur, a white marking on its face, a white mane, and a tail to match.

  The strangers did not look threatening, but just in case MacGreagor warriors began to gather along the rim of the outer courtyard. Curious women eased closer, while shy children peeked out from behind their mother’s skirts.

  The stranger was obviously a laird, but which laird and why did he come?

  Michael knew not who they were at first. He squinted hoping to make their faces out easier and then his eyes brightened with recognition. “Ferguson?” he whispered.

  “Ferguson,” Rory announced, coming up the stairs just as Michael was coming down. He too wore the colorful MacGreagor kilt and had armed himself with a sword, a dagger, and a long handled ax. He abruptly turned and followed Michael down.

  “Where is Seona?” Michael asked.

  “I have not yet seen her this mornin’.”

  “Nor have I.” Instead of going out to greet Laird Ferguson, he hurried up the stairs to the second floor, walked down the hallway and knocked on Seona’s door.

  “Come in,” he heard her say. She was not yet out of bed, which was no surprise, so he pulled the door partly closed and peeked in. “Laird Ferguson is arrivin’. Stay in your bedchamber and I shall alert you when he is gone.”