“And he’s not the only one,” a woman added. “We lived on Boyd MacAllister’s lands for generations, right on the border where it joined yer brother’s. MacAllister has turfed us off too. He and yer brother say there is more profit in sheep than in crofting.”
Niall stared at them, stunned into silence. “Sheep?” he repeated dumbly. His brother’s lands were vast—far larger than the tiny portion Niall had managed to fight for—and fertile enough to sustain both sheep and people. MacAllister’s lands were the same. There was no need for such drastic measures.
“Aye. They say there’s more money in the wool trade,” the man spat out the words with a bitterness that Niall could well understand. He glanced over at the woman and boy again—her face was pinched with worry, and the boy had started to cry softly, his sobs muffled by his mother’s skirts.
“Where will ye go?” Niall asked the man.
He shrugged helplessly. “Edinburgh,” he said after a long pause. “To find work.”
The city. Where there was always work for those who were willing to sell their bodies and souls for a pittance. It was no life for a child, or for anyone, really. But what choice did they have?
Niall was silent for a moment, watching as the group huddled closer together against the biting wind. He could see their breath misting in the air, their bodies shivering beneath thin cloaks and ragged clothes.
“I can offer ye work,” he said suddenly.
The man looked at him sharply, suspicion flashing in his eyes. “Work?”
“I’m constructing a mill on my land. I need strong hands to help build it. And after it’s built, I’ll need more hands to keep it running.”
The man seemed taken aback by this. He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the group—they were watching Niall intently now, hope dawning on their weary faces.
“And what’s the pay?” The man’s voice held a note of challenge, as if expecting Niall to renege on his offer.
“Fair wages,” Niall stated. “Enough to keep ye and yers fed, clothed, and warm. I’ll provide lodging until the mill is complete. And I dinna farm sheep.”
A murmur of surprise and hope rippled through the group. Eyes brightened, shoulders straightened. The leader seemed to be considering his offer, his gaze flicking between Niall and the worn-out faces behind him, a spark of hope kindling in his weary eyes.
“Well then, Laird Campbell,” he said, extending a calloused hand towards Niall. “It seems ye’ve just hired yerself some workers.”
Niall shook his hand, the coarse palm a testament to years of hard toil. A firm handshake sealed their agreement.
“Indeed I have. Follow me, all of ye.”
As he turned and began leading them all back towards the village, his mind whirled with calculations. To be honest, he didn’t know where he was going to put them all and Flora would likely go apoplectic when he turned up with so many more mouths to feed. But he knew he’d done the right thing. These were Campbell workers. He couldn’t just see them destitute could he?
He just hoped his housekeeper saw it that way.
