High on a Mountain Read online

  “Yes, Grandma,” Mùirne said, and led the ewes outside.

  They were accustomed to this routine and each one stood still to be milked. Mùirne enjoyed the milking, especially on cool mornings like this one. The ewes’ udders felt warm and comforting to her hands. She finished, carried the wooden bucket of milk inside and set it on the work table.

  Mùirne glanced outside through the open door and saw the biggest ewe start across the clearing toward the woods, with the others following. She ran after them and turned them in the direction of Loch Lomond. She would take them to graze in a small glen on the shore of the loch, her favorite place.

  She guided the sheep along the path as it curved around a patch of woods. Mùirne remembered she didn’t have food for her noon meal. She stopped the sheep and started them grazing on the bit of grass near the path. She hurried through the woods to the cottage, approaching it from the side. She didn’t want to give the sheep time to scatter.

  She neared the open door and heard voices from inside.

  Grandma said, “I don’t know if we’ll ever get that girl married. She’s so peculiar—”

  “There’s time yet,” her mother answered.

  “Most girls of sixteen are thinking about marrying. But all she wants to do is be out in the wilds with the sheep. You need to take a strong hand with her, talk to her.”

  “I will, Ma.”

  “Don’t wait too long. Here she’s fortunate enough to have a fine, handsome man like Latharn Cambeul come a-courting…”

  Cambeul…Grandma’s voice faded away, pushed into the background by the unwelcome memory as it came and filled Mùirne with an unreasoning dread.

  Cambeuls… It’s the Cambeuls…

  She leaned against the rock wall of the cottage trembling, her breaths shallow and panting, her hands twisting and wrapping the folds of her airisaid around her fingers as she had twisted the curls of Granda’s beard on that night so long ago. When the soul-wrenching images faded, leaving her weak and shaken, she struggled to regain control of herself, to straighten her shoulders under their habitual burden of guilt and fear.

  She smoothed her clothing and rubbed her sweaty palms dry on it. She stood, stepped away from the wall and forced herself take deep breaths until her trembling lessened. She listened to make sure they were not still talking about her.

  “If you’ll feed the hens, I’ll deal with that milk,” her mother said.

  Mùirne took another deep breath and went inside to get her bread and cheese.

  ____________

  Ailean left the trail and ran to head off the stubborn steer for the fourth time that morning. It wanted to return to its home range, but he hazed it back to the herd. The other cattle had adjusted to life on the trail during the first week, but this steer was still restless and hard to handle.

  Ailean had worked the cattle drive each autumn since he was thirteen. He was experienced handling cattle and sometimes knew what they would likely do before they even knew it themselves. He walked alongside the steer and crooned to it to calm and settle it, his voice mellow and rich. After a time, the steer forgot its intention to leave the herd, pacified by the sound of Ailean’s voice.

  The cattle were not the only ones who enjoyed listening to him. His singing ability was known and appreciated throughout the clan. The elderly song leader at church had trained Ailean to take his place. Now, Ailean led the psalm singing on Sunday mornings, singing the presenting line which the congregation repeated in song after him.

  Once the steer was content to move along with the other cattle, Ailean dropped back to walk behind the herd with his older brother, Coinneach, and Raghnall MacLachlainn, still humming and occasionally thumping a rump with his walking stick when a steer stopped to graze too long.

  “Well, little brother,” Coinneach said. “It’s too bad your voice doesn’t have the same powerful effect on lasses. If you were as masterful with them as you are with cattle—”

  “I’m as good as you are,” Ailean interrupted.

  “Oh, are you now. I was married by the time I was your age, and you have no one even looking at you with a sideways glance,” Coinneach goaded. “Maybe you’re just too big and you scare them away.”

  Raghnall chuckled as Ailean narrowed his eyes and gave Coinneach a cutting look.

  Ailean walked in silence, wondering if Coinneach’s words had merit. It was true he was big. He stood almost a head taller than his brother and father and neighbors who were making the cattle drive together. Even though he was the best swordsman on the croft during the training sessions, and even though he knew he was the best camanachd player in the clan, at times his size made him feel awkward and out-of-place like an untrained man trying to dance a Highland fling.

  He thought of a reply. “No, brother, you were too dumb to avoid getting cornered and caught. I, on the other hand, am too smart to succumb to female wiles. Besides, there are things I want to do before I get myself entangled with a woman.”

  Raghnall laughed. “I love these drives. Being with the two of you for a few weeks is more amusement than I get the rest of the year.”

  Ailean saw his father had stopped and stood to the side of the herd as it passed, waiting for his sons to reach him. When they drew near, Aodh said, “Ailean, I think you need to walk up by the lead steer. Looks like he may be wanting to balk again.”

  “All right, Da.” Ailean trotted to the front of the herd.

  He walked alongside the lead steer, singing and enjoying the scenery as the trail neared Loch Lomond. The track made an abrupt turn around the foot of a hill, and ahead of the herd, he saw a flock of small Highland sheep. A red-haired girl was herding them across the trail toward the loch shore.

  The sheep saw the cattle coming and ran in alarm. Some of them continued in the direction they were being driven but the others ran back the way they had come, despite the frantic efforts of the girl. Ailean sprinted to her side to help her. Together, they drove all the sheep across the trail before the lead steer reached them.

  “Thank you,” the girl said as she looked up at him with the most brilliant blue eyes he’d ever seen. “I…I sometimes bring them down to this glen to graze. I didn’t expect…” Her voice trailed off as she lowered her gaze and took a step backward.

  “I…we-we’ve never…come this way…be-before,” he stammered, overwhelmed by a rush of unfamiliar feelings and unable to think or speak coherently.

  The girl didn’t reply, and he searched for something else to say to her, anything that would make her look at him with those eyes once more.

  “This is…it’s our first drive to…to Dumbarton. We usually go to Crieff,” he said.

  She still didn’t say anything, kept her eyes lowered and backed farther away.

  “I’m sorry we scared your sheep.”

  She looked up at him again, and a shy smile brightened her face. “Thank you for…helping me.”

  He brushed his long, reddish-brown hair back from his face and tugged the right side of his bonnet lower. Delicious emotions flowed through him, lifted the corners of his mouth and spread a foolish grin across his lips.

  “Ailean!” his father called, and he remembered he had a job to do.

  “Goodbye,” he said and ran back to the herd, looking over his shoulder at the red-haired girl.

  ____________

  “Your idea was a good one, Aodh,” Gabhran said with a smile, putting his money into his sporan. “Eachann Cambeul will never get a coin from me again.

  “Aye,” Boisil agreed. “I wonder what he’ll think when he doesn’t get his crossing money from us this year.”

  All the men laughed at the thought of having outwitted Eachann and Latharn.

  They left Dumbarton as soon as the sale of their cattle was complete that afternoon. They were unwilling to spend more time than necessary among the Lowlanders, who viewed the poor Highlanders, barefoot and dressed in tunics and féileadh-mòr, with contempt. The men chose a more direct but rougher route for the hom
eward journey, since they didn’t have cattle to consider.

  Except for Ailean and Coinneach.

  “I don’t know why I let you talk me into coming back this way,” Coinneach grumbled. “I could have been home by now if I’d gone with the others.”

  “You know you came along so you could be free a little while longer.”

  Coinneach gave his younger brother a mock punch on the arm, and they both laughed.

  When they neared the place where he’d met the red-haired girl, Ailean slowed his pace as he scanned the area on both sides of the trail. When he spotted her in the glen below, he stopped and stared.

  “Ah. Now I know why you had me come this long, weary way. Why are you standing there? Go see if she would welcome a word from you.” Coinneach gave Ailean a little shove and sat on the grass beside the trail to wait.

  Ailean’s steps slowed as he neared the girl. He didn’t know what he should say, what he should do. He only knew this was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen, and he was drawn to her. The mere thought of her aroused feelings in Ailean he couldn’t quell.

  The sheep watched him approach, looking as if they were ready to run. Their wariness alerted the girl to his presence, and she turned toward him, alarm widening her eyes. She took a step away from him, and Ailean thought she might take flight at any moment.

  Ailean stopped and said, “Please, don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

  She didn’t run, but her posture told Ailean that any small thing could send her scurrying away.

  “Don’t you remember me? I helped you with your sheep a couple of weeks ago.”

  A look of recognition flitted across her face, and her shoulders, drawn tight, loosened, and she relaxed a bit.

  “My name is Ailean MacLachlainn.”

  She dropped her gaze from him, stared down at her feet, and her shoulders began to lose their hunched look. She clasped her hands and began twisting her fingers together, still not raising her eyes nor speaking.

  “I just wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry our cattle caused problems with your sheep.” He rubbed first one foot, then the other, across the rough grass.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “I’ve told you my name. What’s yours?”

  She glanced at him. “Mùirne…MacPhàrlain,” she lied.

  “Mùirne? That’s a lovely name.”

  She blushed, smiled at him and lowered her gaze again.

  “So, do you live near here, Mùirne?”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes lowered.

  Ailean took one step closer to her and she glanced up again, the blazing blue of her eyes causing Ailean to catch his breath.

  “Do you mind if I come to see you again, Mùirne?”

  “I…I don’t mind,” she said and turned her eyes toward the ground once more.

  “I have to go. My brother is waiting for me.” He gestured toward Coinneach. But he made no move to leave.

  Mùirne raised her gaze to meet his, and he noticed the sprinkling of small freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was so delicate and fragile, so small and defenseless. He looked again into her eyes that were bluer than the sky above her head, and he was totally captivated.

  “I have to go now, but I’ll be back, Mùirne MacPhàrlain.”

  FOUR

  Mùirne herded the sheep into the byre for the night and fastened the gate. She wandered to the hearth and took her seat, sitting on the edge of the chair, hands clasped in her lap. Suppertime and the hours following it were her least favorite time of the day.

  Grandma and Granda MacPhàrlain sat on their chairs on the other side of the fire. Her mother dipped a bowl of stew from the iron pot for each of them and handed around slices of bread. Mùirne devoured her food. She wanted to be done with it and leave the warmth of the hearth for her bed, where she could pull the covers over her head against the terrors of the darkness.

  “Hello, the house!” a voice called from outside.

  A chill of recognition swept over Mùirne. No, not him!

  Grandma smiled, gave Mùirne a knowing look and rose from her chair. She went to the worktable, laid her bread and bowl on it and hurried to the door. She straightened her clothing, tucked a stray strand of gray hair under her curtch, and raised the bar. She invited Latharn Cambeul in.

  “Good evening,” he said, his voice as smooth and soft as new-made butter, a polite smile affixed to his face. He inclined his head in a slight bow.

  “Please, sit,” Grandma said, gesturing to her chair.

  Mùirne’s stomach roiled, and she almost retched. She wanted to run to her bed and hide under the covers but hadn’t the strength to stand. And she knew from past experience that Grandma would drag her back to her chair, make her endure the presence of this…this…Cambeul.

  Latharn exchanged pleasantries with her mother and grandparents. He complimented them, ingratiated himself further with them, then turned his attention to Mùirne. She kept her eyes averted, wouldn’t meet his. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes, didn’t want to see past the thin veneer of civility that covered his face like a mask and hid a mass of ugliness beneath it.

  She looked sideways at Grandma as her breaths came faster. How could Grandma not see? How could she not know? How could she insist that Mùirne’s future lay with this…Cambeul? Didn’t she know that a life with him would be a living death for her granddaughter?

  The answer came as she saw a glint of greed in Grandma’s eyes when they rested on Latharn. The money. Grandma was impressed with Latharn’s wealth, with his fine clothes, his genteel manners. Mùirne gagged.

  ____________

  Ailean took his bonnet and sword from their pegs by the door. He raised the bar, taking care to make no noise that would rouse his family. He slipped outside into the early morning darkness and pulled the door shut behind him. The cold wind off Loch Fyne slapped the pleats of his féileadh-mòr about his bare legs, and he shivered.

  He paused long enough to strap on his sword and put on his bonnet, then started loping with long strides toward the east, toward Loch Lomond and Mùirne. He knew the way by heart now, having traveled it often during the weeks since he’d met Mùirne, and he hurried through the darkness over the rugged terrain. The sooner he reached her side, the more time he’d have to spend with her.

  Ailean was well-aware of the danger in traveling through the Highlands alone, but he disregarded the risk. He didn’t ask anyone to accompany him because he wanted to be alone with Mùirne.

  ____________

  Mùirne’s waking thoughts were of little else but Ailean. At night before she fell asleep, she remembered and relived every word he said, every look he gave her. She thought of what she would say, what she would do, the next time she saw him. Mùirne imagined what it would be like to have him hold her hand, and she daydreamed about laying her head on his shoulder. But when he was there beside her, fear kept her silent and withdrawn.

  “Well, I think I’ve told you everything there is to tell about myself. I’ve even told you all about my family,” Ailean said one afternoon. “But you still haven’t told me much about yourself.”

  A tiny fear trickled down Mùirne’s backbone, but she didn’t allow it to show. She was accustomed to hiding her feelings. She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “There has to be more than what you’ve told me. Which is nothing.”

  She shrugged again.

  “Maybe I’ll find out more by asking questions. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “I have two sisters.”

  “Are they older or younger than you?”

  “Older. They’re both married.”

  “Ah, now that’s better. At least I know one thing about you. You’re a younger sister.”

  The big ewe moved closer to the woods, and the other sheep trailed after her. Mùirne got to her feet and started after the ewe, glad to have an excuse to end the questioning. But Ailean followed.

  “Where is your
house? I’ve never even met your mother and father.”

  “My father is…dead.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Ailean was silent for a few moments, as though he didn’t know what to say next. He walked along beside her as she turned the sheep away from the woods.

  “I suppose I’d better start for home,” he said.

  Mùirne turned to face him. “Do you have to go so soon?”

  “Are you sure you want me to stay? We don’t seem to have much to talk about.”

  “Please stay.”

  Ailean’s presence always brought an assuredness of safety and gave Mùirne an opportunity to relax. And she liked the rare sense of closeness to another person that enveloped her when they sat together, the feeling that she wasn’t alone in the world anymore.

  Once, his hand brushed hers as he sat beside her, and Mùirne longed for the time he would touch her again. A feeling of tenderness toward him was growing, too, and she worried about his safety when he traveled home each time he left her side.

  She had not yet told him about Latharn Cambeul.

  ____________

  One morning, Ailean found Mùirne and the sheep in the little glen that bordered the drovers’ trail where they first met. He took his sword off, laid it on the ground near a small tree and sat close beside her, his shoulder touching hers. They talked a while and fell silent, each enjoying the physical nearness of the other.

  A man on horseback came riding toward them from the trail. When Mùirne caught sight of him, she moved away from Ailean so that their shoulders were no longer touching. Ailean glanced at her with a question in his eyes. He looked back at the man. It was Latharn Cambeul.

  Latharn neared the spot where they sat, dismounted and sauntered over to stand in front of them. When he saw the person sitting with Mùirne was Ailean MacLachlainn, his smile disappeared. He planted his feet and put his hands on his hips.