Circling around the pastures, Reginald followed the riding lane to a bridge built over one of the streams and stopped to examine its underside, to be sure ’twas sound. By the time he was done and looked up again, he noticed Drew coming from the house.
Taking a quick glance at the sun, Reginald kenned, along with the aid of his growling stomach, ’twas a good deal past noon. That picnic wi’ Lauren would be much appreciated.
But, anxious as he was to see her, his empty stomach wasnae as important as any news Drew might have brought. Reginald hurried to meet him, watching Drew’s face as he approached for any hints.
“Afternoon,” Drew smiled. “Phoebe told me you were the new ranch foreman.”
“Ranch foreman?” Reginald puzzled. “I dinnae ken.”
“Sorry,” Drew laughed. “An American term for the guy who sees that all the work gets done, on a place like this.”
“Ah,” Reginald nodded. “Well then, I ken ’twould be me, right enough.”
Hoping Drew had information on Fergus, he gestured toward the thick rock wall, easing a hip onto it, himself. “Any luck wi’ yer research?”
“Only a little,” Drew said, joining him. “But I’m not through looking. As it turns out, my mother’s records are so extensive, between family and property, I was only able to get through a small portion of them, last night. But between talking with my parents, and a little digging, this is what I’ve learned…so far.”
Reginald held his breath. He dinnae ken what was coming, but anything Drew could tell him, would be another piece to the puzzle.
“The oldest dates I could find, were, coincidentally, somewhere around the Jacobite years you were asking about. Apparently, my ancestors didn’t acquire their section of property near the loch, until somewhere around 1745-46, so the family land records only go back that far. Something resulting from a wealthy American relative, I think, but I’m only just surmising that from bits and pieces. I’ve no real documentation yet, to back that up.”
“I see.” Reginald released his breath and shifted, not wanting to take his eyes off Drew. “Anything else…?”
“Well, most of what I discovered only pertains to my family. Although, there were some references that sort of tied your many-greats uncle to my many-greats grandfather.”
“I dinnae ken. Sort of tied…how?” When Reginald grew up here, there weren’t that many families, so most everyone had ties, or dealings of some kind with their neighbors.
“Well, I don’t see how this pertains, but I’ll toss it out there, anyway…” Drew, raised a knee onto the wall, and settled more comfortably. “Apparently, at the time of The Rising, my—I’ll dispense with the ‘many great’s’ and just call him, my grandfather—Andrew Morhill, worked at a tavern in Inverness. So, because I’d been so focused on finding anything with the McColl name—Fergus’, in particular, I was shocked when I came across some old orders and receipts that bore both Fergus’ name,andmy grandfather’s.”
Drew laughed. “You’ll never guess how they were written out.” He leaned forward a little. “Fergus ‘The Finder’ McColl. That’s quite a nickname isn’t it?”
Reginald tried his best to laugh as if ’twas the first time he’d heard the moniker. But Uncle Fergus had been a living legend. If someone needed something, they asked ‘Fergus-The-Finder’. It might take him a while, but if ’twas possible to be obtained, and coin was available, eventually, ‘The Finder’ came through.
“Indeed, it is,” Reginald croaked, then coughed to cover up his tight throat. “Orders and Receipts for…? What, exactly?”
“Ale shipments, from what I could tell.”
Reginald pursed his lips, in confusion. “Ye’re right, I dinnae ken the connection tae the Jacobites, if there is one. But I appreciate every piece of information ye can find. Mayhap, when ’tis all laid out, ’twill make sense, somehow.”
“That’s what I’d hoped,” Drew added. “But that’s not all. Fergus’ name, and my grandfather Morhill’s, are tied together several times, and not just relating to the tavern. It appears they were not only acquaintances, but business partners in a few other ventures, as well. None of which—from what I can determine—amounted to anything.”
Drew shook his head and gestured to their surroundings. “But, look at these places now. How’s that for an ironic twist? Especially when it appears neither of them could hold on to a coin.” His chuckle floated on the spring air. “I’ll bet they’d both be astounded if they were here, today.”
Reginald swallowed, hard. “Aye. The difference several centuries can make, is truly astonishing. But, as I mentioned, Fergus had no ties tae the glen. He only visited his brother here, on occasion. Nor, did he have a family tae provide a fruitful posterity that might build up his holdings, like yer grandsire obviously did.”
“Well, all that aside,” Drew continued, “here’s the most interesting bit of information. Something I’d never heard before. I lucked onto it, actually, since it wasn’t with the other papers.” He folded his arms and shifted again, as if settling in for a good long blather. “Threemen, were assigned to transport the local treasure to the Jacobite leaders. Not just Fergus, as the legend suggests.”
Reginald could barely breathe, or contain the thoughts exploding in his head. “Three?”
Drew chuckled. “Insane, right?”
“Who?” Reginald managed to ask.
“That’s the insane part. It was your uncle Fergus, of course, some guy named George Beattie, and my grandfather, Daniel Morhill.Thatblew me away. I’ve never heard any mention of George Beattie. And I can’t believe my parents didn’t tell me about my grandfather’s participation.”
George Beattie?Reginald searched his memory for that name, but he was sure he’d no’ heard it before. But Morhill? Now that he considered it in connection to Fergus, there might have been some mention, here or there. But he couldnae be sure.
“There has to be more to this story,” Drew insisted. “All I found was that the three of them left with the treasure, George Beattie died on the way—reason unknown—and my grandfather returned sometime later. He’d been knocked out, and when he eventually woke up, Fergus and the treasure were gone. There were search parties, of course, but no trace of what ever happened to either. Which, I gather, sparked the rumors.”
