Chapter Thirteen
Christina climbed theslope of Cairn Drishan using the walking stick MacGregor had insisted she take. She laughed to herself, remembering his earnest advice that morning.
“Bonny sir, you are needing this on those wicked hills,” the butler had said, handing her a sturdy polished stripling nearly as tall as her.
The morning sky was pearly and mist still veiled the moor and heather-purple hills. At the top of the ridge, someone waved, and she recognized Hector MacDonald. But Aedan was not with him, and she felt disappointment replace anticipation.
Hector MacDonald walked toward her, gaunt and gray, his eyes vivid blue. “Good morning, Mrs. Blackburn!” He touched his hat brim. “Come this way.”
She followed him to the worksite, where three other men worked with shovels and picks. They spoke Gaelic among themselves, though their shabby nondescript clothing and muddy boots did not identify them as Highlanders. Seeing her, they touched their hat brims and went back to work.
A brown-and-white spaniel ran toward her, tail wagging. Christina reached out to pet it. “Who’s this?”
“Cailin. She belongs to Angus Gowan, there,” Hector said. “His sons, Lewis and Kenneth, are working with him.”
She nodded to the men and bent again to pat the spaniel, speaking to her in Gaelic.
Angus came toward her. “Mistress, you know the language?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“Aye, good!” But he continued in English. “Cailin comes too when we work on the roads. She has been herding cattle in the hills for years. A good wee lass who cares not if we herd, hunt, or dig. She is just happy to be with us.”
“She is lovely. Do you still herd cattle, Mr. Gowan?”
“No longer, mistress. When our farm was taken from us when our glen fell to the Clearances, Sir Hugh gave us a croft on his estate. Now we work on the young laird’s road crew. Cailin is happy wherever we are. People can learn contentment from dogs.”
“We can,” she agreed. “I am sure you are as anxious as Sir Aedan to finish the road, although there is a little delay now. And thank you for working on digging out the stones that were found.”
“Oh, aye. The laird can spare us for a few days,” he said.
“The laird can dig with that metal beast while we dig for the lady,” Lewis Gowan said, as his father chuckled.
“Hopefully this will only take a few days,” she said. “Now that you have cleared some of the earth away, it is easier to see what appears to be an old wall. Could you clear away more of the top layer, very carefully?”
“Aye so. And what then?” Angus Gowan asked.
“I will mark the stones with chalk. Blue where a stone should be removed, white if it should be left in place.” She opened her reticule to remove two pieces of thick chalk borrowed from her brother’s wooden box of pastel sticks.
“I asked them to grub the hill to clear the brush and bracken away,” Hector explained, “and then go carefully where the wee wall first appears to dig across to the opposite wall over there. How far back should we go into the hill, mistress? It burrowsinto that higher part of the hill there.” He indicated an uneven upthrust of earthen slope thick with heather and gorse.
“Dig as far as seems safe, Mr. MacDonald.”
“Aye so.” He gave some directions in Gaelic to the Gowans, who went to resume their work, the little dog running back and forth. “See that split in the rock that goes into the hill? That was from the black powder explosion. It is not safe over there, but the Gowan lads will take care with the digging there. Sir Aedan wants to be sure ye’re never alone on this hill, so we will see to yer safety as well.”
She felt a frisson of indignation. “I do not need protecting. I can be cautious too. Tell Sir Aedan that, if you will.”
“Aye well,” he said, “best tell the laird so yerself. There’s fire in the both o’ ye, and I dinna care to be burned by it.” Hector grinned so engagingly that Christina had to smile.
*
Later, as sunshinesplit the cloud cover and the damp earth dried, Christina knelt on the ground, skirts tucked around her. While the men worked, she marked stones with chalk. The day had grown warmer, and she paused to remove her hat and her jacket to work unhampered.
Spying cut marks on the side of one of the stones, she brushed her fingers over the engraved lines. Intrigued, she pulled her hatpin from the hat to scrape at the embedded dirt. Taking up a small memorandum book, she paused to draw what she saw and record her observations with a pencil. Then she took up the hatpin again to clean the lines.
“If you mean to use that wee thing to clean these stones, you will be here forever.”
Startled, she looked up, her heart leaping as she heard Aedan’s voice. He stood tall over her, his back to the sun, shoulders wide, stance assured.
