“Well, the Trades Hall and Merchants House were closed since it is Saturday,” Owen answered, “but the taverns were full of tradesmen.”
“What did they say?” Aidan asked.
“I cannot repeat the language.” Owen glanced at Annie and her mother. “But they are all angry as well. The main concern is when the warehouse will reopen.”
“Orifit will reopen,” Aidan said.
Annie stared at him. “What do ye mean,if? There are goods stored and ships due in.”
“Aye, but if MacQuarrie and Shaw find any other goods being used in smuggling, those goods will be confiscated.”
“Mr. Haines could nae have used all the stock for smuggling purposes,” Annie said.
“We doona ken that,” Niall said.
Aidan gave him a sharp look. “Do ye think any of our kelp bales have been involved?”
“I doona ken,” Niall answered. “Robert’s only used this warehouse a short time. Since I have been here, I’ve inspected our bales. I dinnae see anything, but then, we did nae suspect anything wrong with the barley barrels either.”
“But your kelp?” Annie asked.
“I hope nae,” Niall answered, “but who kens what has been used?”
“But…” Annie paused and her eyes grew round. “The weavers’ union just delivered near a hundred bolts of woolens to be sent to France. If those doona get delivered, the mills will nae pay the weavers.”
Silence met that remark. Niall looked at the grim expressions of his brother and MacLean. All three of them had realized that possibility after listening to the talk on the streets. He just wished Annie hadn’t figured it out.
“’Tis nae need to fash,” he said, although he knew he sounded like a hypocrite. “We cannae do anything until Monday when the magistrate’s office will be open.”
Annie wasn’t about to be pacified though. With a deliberately willful look in her eye, she raised her chin. “And what if Mr. MacQuarrie keeps the office closed? Or confiscates everything in it? What will the workers and the weavers do then?”
****
“Ye are going to wear tracks on my carpet, pacing like ye do,” Annie’s mother said to her Monday morning as they awaited word about the warehouse opening.
Annie sank into a parlor chair, then popped back up. “I cannae sit still. I should have gone with the men.”
“Nae,” her mother replied. “Niall was right. We doona ken what the decision will be or the reaction to it.”
“I would have been safe with three Highlanders escorting me,” Annie said stubbornly.
“Even armed as they are, they cannae take on several scores of angry men.”
“But why would they be angry with me?” Annie asked. “’Tis nae my fault the warehouse is closed.”
Mrs. Ferguson shook her head. “An angry man does nae think clearly and is nae ruled by logic. Ye put together a crowd of angry men and they become a mob that doesn’t listen to reason. ’Tis why the witches were burned.”
Annie blinked. “Are ye talking about what happened one hundred and fifty years ago? ’Twas madness!”
“Aye, it was madness,” her mother replied, “but it did nae stop those poor women to be put to death here in Scotland and also in the States.”
“Well, we are more civilized now.”
Before her mother could answer, Niall came into the room. From the grim look on his face, Annie knew the news wasn’t good. “The warehouse is remaining closed?”
He nodded and went to stand by the window. “Everything has been confiscated as well.”
“But why? ’Twas only the barley barrels that were used.”
