Thistle and Flame - Her Highland Hero (3 page)

“I miss home,” he said. “I miss it awfully bad.
Sometimes all I can think is how I want to abandon what we’ve done here.
Abandon all this work, and go back north of the Lochs, back with my Da and my
Ma, and live out the rest of my days tending sheep.”

His friend nodded, his eyes fixed on the tip of
the candle flame, but said nothing.

“It’s like we came down here, we fought that
battle, all the Highlanders had one last hurrah, and then when it was over and
the Bonnie Prince was thrown out, that was it. Everyone just went home.
Everyone forgot the years of famine, the starving, the pain, and they all just
went back to the mountains to live out their lives. Why didn’t we? Why are we
still here risking our lives every single day for people we don’t even know?”

“It’s the right thing to do, John. You know that.”
Gavin’s eyes never left the flame. “I miss home too. I miss it more than
anything, even though I never talk about it. The reason I don’t is because it
hurts too much. I can’t stand being away, but I know that if I’m not – if we’re
not doing this – then no one else will. These people will starve. These farmers
don’t have a chance without us, to say nothing of those who live in the city,
under the thumb of these new lords.”

As he spoke, John watched his friend’s fist clench
and release in a slow, patient rhythm. He’d seen that fist clenching only one
other time – right before the two of them broke into the bottom floor of an
apartment on the Queen’s Road, and stolen four sacks of coin, a sack of grain
from the kitchens, and run off with a servant chasing them into the street.

“What’s wrong, Gavin?”

He shook his head.

“No, none of that. What’s wrong? You’re not
yourself.”

“Aye, it’s all this talk of home. I’m thinking of
missing things and wanting to go back, but I know I can’t. I dare not, not
until everyone’s fed, and one way or another, this horrible Sheriff is out of
Edinburgh for good. The English I could take or leave. I’m not interested in
politics, you know that.”

John nodded.

“I’m interested in people being safe. In my
countrymen not being slaves to a crown that does nothing for them. Alan is in
the pocket of every single English lord, and a couple of shameful Scots ones,
in this town, and I want to make sure that if Judgment day comes soon, he’ll be
back in England to greet the Lord. I don’t care how it happens just so long as
it does.”

“What do you miss, Liam?”

“About home?”

“Aye, about home. You’ve never said much about it.
I tell you all the time about things from my place, but I don’t even think I know
the name of yours.”

“Fort Mary,” he said. His voice was a dark
whisper, his eyes still focusing on the flame. “And the reason I don’t say
anything is because when I think about it, or talk about it, all I want to do
is give up the fight and go home.”

“Maybe talking about it, just a little, maybe
that’ll help?”

“It’s...alright.” He said. “But nothing I say
leaves this, uh, building. Right?”

“Of course not.”

Gavin poured himself a dram of the fiery whiskey
from downstairs.

“Alright.”

“Go on.”

“My father and I came down south for the uprising,
just like you. He’s from an old Highland clan and still has some misplaced
sense of loyalty to them. Myself, I’m not so sentimental. I was born up in the
far, far north, but don’t remember any of it. I was too young. We moved to Fort
Mary to get away from my Ma’s angry father, and that was as far as we got
before the food ran out.”

John watched as his friend paused for a long
drink, but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, it was just supposed to be a short
stop-over until my father got his feet under him again and we could get new
horses, maybe some food. But winter set in, and the people of the town took
care of him – of us. When the thaw came, they helped build us a house and got
it all set up, and even donated a bunch of seed to him to get started. One old
man, a fellow called McCraig,” Gavin laughed as he said the name, “funny old
man. Anyway, he gave my pa a pair of sheep even. Just gave it over, no charge, and
no questions. That’s the sort of people they are.”

“Generous folk, huh?”

“To their own harm sometimes.”

Gavin took another drink.

“The next winter, Ma died, and then Pa married a
Fort Mary girl who lost her husband to a pox. She came with a little girl, and
then they had another. So we left the three girls and came south to fight a war
I didn’t understand, and that my Pa had only the flimsiest reason for fighting.
He never said so, but I suspect he wanted to come down here just to get away
from the boredom up north.”

“But didn’t he miss his wife and the girls?”

“I’m sure he did. But he never said anything. Just
talked a lot about duty and fighting oppression, you know how men can be.”

“Aye,” John answered. “But I also know how they
can get when they long for home. Is that why he went back?”

“No. He went back because the war was over. Same
as everyone else.”

As he spoke, Gavin’s face started to sag a little
at the corners of his mouth. His eyes, normally sparkling clear, darkened.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” John said. “What is
it you miss? I can tell there’s something.”

“You’re right, of course.” He said with a sad
smile. “I was not the man you know. The battle, the war, and all that, it
changed me, yes. But nothing changed me more than the work we’ve done for the
past few months. The suffering we see, and those we’ve helped, it all made me a
much different person. Back in Fort Mary, I was a little bit of a coward.”

“You?” John said with a laugh. “A coward?”

Gavin smiled. “A terrible one.”

“It’s a girl, isn’t it? You’re about to tell me
about a girl you pined after and never quite had the courage to talk to?”

“In a way,” he said. “It was a girl, one with
blazing red hair, a smile that went on for miles and legs that were just as
long.”

John grinned. “There was more to her, though,
wasn’t there?”

“Of course. She was – still is, I’m sure –
stunning. But she also had a way that made everyone around her smile and laugh.
She juggled. She made these...these animal sounds, with her mouth. You know,
cow sounds, sheep bleating, that kind of thing. And she had the gentlest,
kindest nature I’ve ever known.”

“And?”

“And, well, I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but
we’re close. I may as well tell you.”

“Tell me what, Gav?”

“Oh it’s just us, you can drop the secrecy.”

“Right, so what’s your horrible secret, hidden
until this very moment?”

“Kenna,” Gavin said. “Her name is Kenna Moore. And
the last time I had enough courage to talk to her instead of just watching her
from afar at village gatherings, I had just finished throwing the caber, and
had quite a good toss.”

“You were bragging, weren’t you?”

“Aye, I was quite proud of myself. I walked
straight up to sweet little Kenna Moore and put my hand on her shoulder and
leaned in to give her a kiss, something I’d wanted to do since she moved to
town and we were both little.”

“Did she let you? And what’s the big terrible
secret?”

“Ach, no, the terrible secret is that all that
only happened in my mind. I did go up to her, but there was no kiss. All I did
was to give her a thistle.”

“You? The mighty Gavin Macgregor? Cowed by a wee
lass?”

With a mist in his eyes, Gavin smiled, remembering
what she was like, how she’d laughed. “Aye, I was. But thinking back on it, I
wouldna have changed a thing. I’ve got more fire in my guts now. If ever I
happen to see her again, I won’t make the same mistake.”

––––––––

“W
hy do we have to go so slow when we do this, Pa?”
Kenna stood up, let her hoe rest in the crook of her elbow and stretched her
back. “Let’s just get all this stuff planted and go home. I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, lass,” William said with a chuckle. “You’re
young still. Soon, probably sooner than you’d like, you’ll find out why we take
so much time when we do this. Come over here for a moment.”

She moved over to him and William put an arm
around his daughter’s shoulder. She was only an inch or two shorter than her
father, although he was far thicker across the shoulders, the arms and the
neck, thanks to a lifetime of almost endless labor. Kenna put her hand on his
and played with one of her Pa’s rough, callused fingers.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. William
just stroked Kenna’s arm, and she his hand as they stared off into the
distance, into the mist that seemed never to leave the Fort Mary moorlands.

“Do you see all this?” He said finally, breaking
the silence.

“See what?”

“All the land, and the hills and the farms off to
the east, do you see all of it?” His voice got a whispery kind of quiet to it
as he spoke. “While we stand here, scratching away at our dirt and putting our
turnips and radishes in the ground, what do you think’s happening down the road
at McCullough’s farm?”

“Breakfast, maybe? Even though it’s going on
midday.”

“Aye could be. Old man McCullough does like his
late mornings,” he chuckled. “Alright, well what about McCraig?”

“Oh that one’s easy. He’s down in the village,
probably doing something with Laird Macleod’s books. Isn’t that what he does of
a morning after leaving our table?”

“But what do you suppose he’s thinking about as he
does his work?”

“How could I know?”

“He’s at peace. He smiles as he flips through
those ledgers and writes down figures and records deliveries. He comes to us of
a morning, he and I shout about whatever it is that crosses our minds, and then
for the rest of the day, we’re at peace. That’s what it comes down to, dearest
– peace.”

“But what does that have to do with us farming
from morning to night? What does that have to do with not hurrying through this
so we can go back to reading or playing Chess with Ma?”

William Moore smiled. “It has everything to do
with it.”

Kenna puffed a sigh.

“What do you think young Gavin is doing right now?
Assuming, of course, that the tale his father shared is true – that he’s the
ghost haunting the English down south at the Castle?”

He always called Edinburgh ‘the Castle’ for the
ancient building that stood on a hill at the center of town. Built a thousand
years ago, part of it was anyway, it was where the King of the Scots had once
sat, before that right was taken by the English who now occupied the city.

Just thinking about Gavin sent a chill through
Kenna’s chest. She turned and looked in the direction of Edinburgh that lay
hundreds of miles away.

“I imagine he’s planning an adventure. Or stealing
something from a foul Englishman, or trying to run from someone who almost
caught him, or-”

“Mhm,” her father grunted. “No doubt, that’s not
far from the truth. Which one sounds to you like a life you want?”

The question stunned her. Kenna had never had an
adventure. She’d never even left Fort Mary since they arrived, except to travel
to the next town over for a kirk meeting every so often, when her mother felt
like getting out of town for a day.

“I think that I want to at least feel what it’s
like to have some excitement. I mean, I don’t want to live like that forever
and ever, but it’d be nice to have a little taste of it.” She brushed a
sweat-wet lock of flaming copper hair out of her face and tucked it behind her
ear. “You know what I mean?”

“I suppose I do, aye. It’s wrong of me to expect
you not to want those things. God knows I had adventures when I was young and
foolish. Not that you’re foolish.” He elbowed Kenna in the ribs and they both
laughed. “I forget some times that you’ve not had any. I worry about you so
much that in my mind, as long as you’re here and safe, that’s all that matters.
I suppose I need to come around to realizing that what I want and what you need
are two very different things.”

“No,” she said. “Not very different, I don’t
think. Would be nice to see the city though, at least once. Maybe even lift a
purse from some noble?” Kenna laughed and picked up her hoe and resumed
scratching at the earth below, digging a new pit for a turnip.

“Well then, remember, that if the Laird Macdonald
accepts your hand, as I’ve proposed to him, you’ll see the city. His estate’s
just north of Edinburgh.”

“Dinna remind me of that – you know the last thing
I want is to be wed to some noble and kept for the rest of my life.”

“It’s safe that way, Kenna. And anyway, what other
girl from Fort Mary will be able to call herself Lady?”

“If he accepts, which I doubt, as he’s taken so
long to respond.”

William opened his mouth, but Lora Moore called
from the house for them to come in for lunch before he could say anything.

“William! Kenna! Come in you busy little soldiers!
The stew’s finally got soft enough to chew.”

She always made fun of her own cooking, but Kenna
loved her Ma’s food, especially when it meant she could stop digging holes and
planting for a bit.

“What’s the stew?” The girl shouted back as she
and her father gathered the tools and started back for the house.

“Don’t forget the pick over there,” William said,
“never know when a storm’s to blow in.”

“Mutton and oats and turnips. The gravy’s nice and
thick. Hurry up!” Lora shouted, then went back inside as Kenna and William
gathered the rest of the tools and wandered back.

“Do you think Gavin’s about to have a hot stew in
the middle of the day? Do you think he’s about to settle in for a long meal,
have a chat with his family and then go back to work in a safe, increasingly
warm field for a few hours until the sun goes down, and he goes in for another
meal?” William said from a few feet behind Kenna as she pulled open the door.

She froze.

“Worth thinking about, anyway,” he said.
“Sometimes all the excitement in the world isn’t worth what you give up.”

––––––––

“M
ore?” Lora said, even as she dumped another ladle
into Kenna’s bowl. “It’s good for you, working out in the field like that.”

“Uh, sure, thanks Ma,” she answered. “No reason
for me to worry about getting fat, ah? Not like any young men are chasing me
around.”

“That took a dark turn,” Lora said. “Is something
bothering you?”

Kenna stared at her stew and stirred it but didn’t
eat.

“It’s probably my fault,” William said. “We were
talking about that story that Robert Macgregor told us about his son. I think I
accidentally lectured her on the benefits of a stable home life, and the
dangers of adventure.”

“Ah, William,” she said. “She’s young. Why canna
you just leave her to her dreams? No young woman wants to be stuck on farm for
her whole life. She wants to get out and see things, find her way.”

William Moore took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.

“I know that, Lora. I didn’t mean to upset the
girl. You know that, aye, Kenna?”

The three of them passed a silent second. Lora
looked from William to Kenna. Kenna stirred her stew, William chewed.

“Well, on the subject of that, did you hear the
news?”

“What news?” Kenna finally spoke. “From where?”

“From down south, from Edinburgh. McCraig stopped
by again after you two left and dropped off an old paper. Got a story about Gavin
in it.” She handed the crinkled sheet over the William, and Kenna looked at it
over his shoulder.

There was, on the center of the top, a crude
drawing of something that looked like a cross between a hooded specter and a
monkey. Underneath a second drawing, this one a tall, gallant, dashing man with
a bow slung across his chest that she instantly recognized as Robin Hood. The
caption underneath read ‘Which Is He?’

A brief story told of a heist at a noble’s manor
three days before the paper, so going on two weeks prior.

“Says here that the Ghost,” William said, “snuck
into a Queen’s Street apartment and stole a small chest full of Crowns. He then
proceeded to take it around town, leaving pieces of the stash on the doorsteps
of the poor. No one took more than their share, it says, and no one saw who
left it.”

He chewed his lip. “Oh, now here’s something. Says
the only person who claims to have seen the man described him as tall, slender,
and with an accent from the fringe of the Highlands. If it really is Gavin,
then he’s got the right way of speaking, at least.”

Kenna’s eyes suddenly darkened. “It isn’t him. It
can’t be. Gavin’s no thief, not even from people who deserve it. He’s not the
sort to just vanish and turn bandit, even for a good reason.”

“What do you know of him?” William said. “We’ve
got two people and a newspaper that say the same thing. What makes you so sure
that he’s not running about convinced that he’s Robin Hood?”

“It’s just...a feeling. I knew him a little. But
you’re acting like I’ve done some wrong. What’s got you so upset?”

“You knew him a very little,” William snorted.
“His father kept him away from everyone else mostly. Macgregors never play well
with others.”

“William!” Lora said, slapping him on the arm.
“Why are you so combative all of the sudden? Did you hit your toe with a shovel?”

“Lora, I don’t care a whit for that boy. Makes me
no difference if he’s alive or dead. All I care about is right here at this
table, and I don’t want my daughter getting hurt by daydreams. She’s never
mentioned the Macgregor boy before outside of some girlish fancies, and I don’t
want her pining after things that she’ll never have. Anyway, she’s already
promised to Laird Macdonald down south.”

“Promised? You wrote him a letter six months past
and haven’t heard anything from him. And I still don’t understand why some
noble, even a minor one like Ramsay Macdonald, would want to marry a farmer’s
daughter.”

“He did me a turn once, when we were both up
north. I owe him, and I owe her. She’s all I’ve to give, and getting her into a
stable house is my way of making sure she’s safe from...things like this.”

“You’re both talking about me like I’m dead or
absent. I’m sitting right here Pa, why won’t you talk to me instead of about
me?”

“You’ve got no input in this, Kenna.” He said
briskly. “Neither of you do. You knew this was coming, so don’t act angry about
it.”

“I never thought it would actually happen,” she
said with a nervous chuckle. “Like Ma says, why would some Laird want any part
of me?”

William Moore ground his teeth. “The letter will
come. Best to forget this foolishness while you still can, before you get your
heart set on something impossible.”

“Pa, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I
don’t have any feelings or desires for Gavin, and even if I did, as far as I
know, he’s dead! He’s not in Edinburgh, he’s not raiding nobles’ houses to try
and get them to leave Scotland. What a ridiculous story that is.” She crossed
her arms over her chest and sat back in a huff.

And even if he was alive
, she thought,
and
even if he is this wild robber of Edinburgh, I wouldn’t have any way to get to
him. No matter how I might want to seehis face again, I know it’ll never
happen.

“Look,” William said, “she’s getting dreamy-eyed.
This is what I wanted to avoid. Kenna,” he took a deep breath, “listen to me.
Don’t allow yourself to fall into these fancies. You’re marrying Ramsay
Macdonald, and you’re to move to his estates as soon as he responds to my
letter. You’ll be safe, you’ll have a clutch of little fiery-headed babies, and
we’ll visit on St. Stephen’s day! That’s the last I’ll hear of it!” He stood
up, pushed away his empty bowl and tromped off.

“What came over him?” Kenna said to her mother.

“I...think he’s just worried about things. You
know how he gets.”

“Aye, but that’s quite a lot of worry over
nothing.”

“Yes,” Lora said. “But-”

“Moore!” A voice from the road boomed.

“McCraig again,” Lora said. “I wonder what he
could want. I expect he’s hungry again, but this will be the third stop off of
the day. That’s more than he ever makes and it’s only noon.”

“Moore!” He shouted again. “I’ve a letter for
you!”

Lora and Kenna both went to the door and looked
out to see William lean the hoe and pick he’d just gathered against the house
and cross to where Old Man McCraig stood with something in his hand. The two
men talked briefly, and then McCraig nodded and went back in the direction of
town.

“It’s come!” William said running to the house.
“Laird Macdonald finally responded.”

Kenna’s father tore open the letter as he trotted
in the front door. “I hardly need to read it,” he said. “I already know what it
says.”

Kenna sat down, and took a breath. “Of all the
timing,” she said.

“He accepts! Ramsay Macdonald accepts! This is the
best news I’ve heard in years!”

“It is,” Kenna said under her breath, “certainly
news.”