Ramsay kept his own stories light and entertaining, with descriptions of what it was like to ride camels and how it was possible to get tired of endless sunshine. The Thorsayians scoffed at that since they’d never seen too much sunshine.
But he noted that although the breakfast was substantial and satisfying, no meat was served. In the past, such a breakfast would have included bacon, sausage, or ham, and quite possibly all three. The tea was also unexpected, the China blend extended with mint. Money was obviously in short supply.
When the breakfast had been demolished, he said, “Mrs. Mackenzie, seeing you is a great pleasure, but I’d also like to ask you some questions in my capacity as a newly hatched laird. Are you willing, or will you give me my marching orders?”
She sighed and turned her gaze to her daughter, who had just finished clearing the breakfast dishes. “Maeve, isn’t it time you gathered the eggs, and after that did some weeding in the vegetable garden?”
Maeve scowled at her mother. “You want to get rid of me.”
“Exactly,” her mother said. “So off with you!”
Maeve finished stacking the dishes, then flounced from the room. She flounced very prettily.
After his sister left, Broc asked dryly, “Are you going to throw me out also?”
His mother shook her head. “No, some of this you know, and there is more you need to know. Ask your questions, my young laird.”
“I’ve heard of the climate and disease problems, but only in general terms. Now I need to learn more so I better understand what must be done to help. I want to talk to people all over the islands to hear what they have to say, and I’m starting with you.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one?” Flora said with a flash of her old humor. She pulled a knitting basket from under the table and began working on a scarf in the soft natural colors of sheep’s wool, ranging from white to dark brown.
“At least you’ll get rid of me quickly this way.” Ramsay’s brow furrowed. Where to start? “Your farm was one of the largest and most prosperous on Mainland. It was always bustling with people. Today it seems deserted. What happened to everyone? I hope to God that they aren’t all dead!”
“A few died of the fever. A few who were able left Thorsay to work elsewhere, in Shetland or Orkney or somewhere South. But a good many are at your cousin’s kelp works since it’s high season for kelp cutting and extra help is needed.”
Ramsay’s brows rose. “Surely that work doesn’t pay well.”
“It doesn’t, but something is better than nothing.” Her needles clicked in the silence until she continued, “Some islanders who’ve lost their homes are staying here at the farm. The quarters aren’t fancy, but at least they have a roof over their heads.”
He frowned. “Are many people homeless?”
“I can’t say how many, but there have been families doubling up and moving into barns.” Her hands stilled. “We’d had some good years, so Dougal borrowed money from the Bank of Clanwick to buy a fine flock of Irish sheep and a first-class bull. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it cost Dougal his life and almost cost us the farm.”
Startled, Ramsay said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Could you tell me more about what went wrong?”
“The cattle disease took out the bull and most of our herd. And the sheep . . .” She stopped speaking, her face rigid. “You’ve heard of the devil storm that did so much damage? Those damn fool sheep were huddling on a headland in the full force of the storm. Dougal went to gather the herd and take them back to the barns. The end of the headland collapsed into the sea, taking Dougal and most of the flock and two sheepdogs.”
Ramsay swore under his breath at the vicious unfairness of it. “So you lost your husband and your investment in livestock in one blow. Was the bank unwilling to work with you until the farm recovered from the damage and could pay off the loan?”
“The bank demanded repayment immediately.” Her mouth twisted. “The manager was apologetic but said the troubles had strained the bank’s resources so badly that he couldn’t afford to give us more time. I was told that there was someone ready to buy Thorfield. That’s when your grandfather stepped in.” Her gaze turned fierce as she glanced at her son. “Wewillrepay you! I swear it.”
“Indeed we will,” Broc said quietly.
“I know you will,” Ramsay said as he rose. “Thank you for your directness. And the breakfast.”
“I don’t envy you the task ahead, laddie,” Flora said. “But I know you’ll be up for it.”
He wished he shared her faith in him. As he mounted Thor and turned south along the cliff path that ran toward Skellig House, he started making lists and calculating how far his savings could go toward fixing what needed to be fixed. Not far enough, but he could make a good start.
The path took him past Sea Cottage, and he saw a figure walking along the beach below. Signy enjoying her day off with her dog at her heels.
He wasn’t the only one who recognized her. Thor gave a happy whinny and darted down the angled path that led to Sea Cottage. Bemused, Ramsay gave his mount his head. Thor circled the cottage and picked his way down to the beach, sure-footed as a mountain goat.
Signy turned at the sound of hooves. She was glorious, her tall figure swathed in a wrap that matched her hazel eyes, tendrils of red-gold hair dancing in the breeze, and her face bright with healthy color.
Unexpected joy surged through him. Seeing Signy smile with welcome made everything he faced seem manageable.
Chapter 12
