“We need to go shopping once more. Going to run out o’ feed for the animals before the winter ends.” Scott stood in the stable with piles of cut grass at his feet and more stuffed into the make-shift hay loft above him. He had enlisted everyone’s help in hand cutting grass for bedding for the chicken coup and winter feed for the horses and goat.
“This wee amount of hay is nae going to last the winter. And it will be a harsh one. All signs in nature are pointing to it, especially the geese migrating south,” Scott noted. “I have heard their honking high overhead in the sky much earlier this year. We must go to the market in Fort William. It should be on the weekend after next. We’ll have the windmill installed by then, won’t we?”
Brendan nodded in reply.
The ensuing week was a busy one for the men who earnestly tried to complete the wind-powered electricity supply to the cottage. It would generate enough power, albeit limited, for essentials such as refrigeration, water pumps, lighting and medical equipment when needed. They struggled, as some necessary items for installing had not been part of Scott’s original purchase.
“He never told me I needed one!” Scott responded when Brendan pointed out the missing piece. “Now we must go to the market! Hope the energy stall is on this weekend.”
***
“NEED A LOT MORE FOOD for the horses now you’ve the extra mouth to feed.” Caitlin leaned on the fence as Scott took the stallion through his paces. He spent most afternoons riding his new prize, the black horse, in the grassed, fenced area beside the stables; he’d made the yard into a menage. The stallion’s coat glistened as his muscles rippled beneath it. Caitlin enjoyed the smell of horse, it brought back so many good memories. The stallion pranced and lifted his forelegs high. He led with his head to the left and Scott continually corrected him, the tack jingling with each slight tug.
“Aye but he’s beautiful, is he no’?”
“You’re in love with him already. What are you going to do when his owner turns up?”
“He will nae,” Scott trotted the horse around the yard.
“How can you be so confident?”
“Caitlin, if you owned a beautiful animal such as this, would you ever let him oot o’ your sight?” Caitlin shook her head; her thoughts briefly returned to her own horse. She hoped her mare had survived the stable fire at her Uncle Kieran’s or was serving a kind master now horses were going to be in common use again, according to Scott.
“Aye, well,” Scott interrupted her thoughts. “I believe this horse, which I am regarding as a Friesian, or part Friesian, was stolen then abandoned. Or escaped. Or somehow went missing after the ransacking of his owner’s property. For only a person of reasonable wealth could afford such an animal, aye?”
Caitlin nodded while admiring her husband. Scott did sit a horse quite well. His back was straight and relaxed. He guided the horse’s movements with subtle actions of his own—tightening a leg muscle, an imperceptible twitch of his hand. He appeared to be barely moving, but his body commanded volumes to his mount. Scott would have done well in dressage events.
“I think you’re right, he steps out like a Friesian, he has a beautiful gait and he’s good natured. He looks great now you’ve groomed him, and he’s had a good feed. Which brings me back to my point. He’ll cost us more in horse feed, if we can’t grow enough of our own. Can we afford him? If no one claims him, we should sell him.” Caitlin bit her tongue as she poked it into her cheek. Scott, concentrating on riding and not looking at Caitlin, heard her serious tone. Scott stopped the horse so abruptly; he nearly lost his seat. The black Friesian snorted and reared slightly.
“What! Caitlin, mo chroi, ye cannae expect me to part with this horse! I mean, I will if the owner turns up. But how will they prove it?” he stopped and regarded her. The tension in his shoulder muscles subsided and the lines on his brow disappeared. “Ye’d think after twenty years of marriage you would nae catch me in your traps! Dinnae do that again about this animal, please,” he laughed. “It’s too close to my heart, aye.”
During the week leading up to the market, under Scott’s direction, they continued to prepare for the harsh winter he predicted. They turned their energy to stocking the woodpile. They tidied up and mulched the vegetable garden beds and secured the outhouses by making them sturdier. Scott had been hasty in some of his builds, being one man at the time, they had been difficult to construct to his satisfaction. The lean-to on the back of the outhouse being a case in point. No longer needed as a makeshift stable, it became a woodshed and goat house. The now heavily pregnant goat would have a place of her own—the three stalls in the stables now occupied by equine beings.
Brendan and Scott performed maintenance on the water pumps and other electrical equipment readying them for when they had power. Caitlin cleaned out the disused fridge and ensured it was ready for use. They checked the guttering and down pipes for leaks and the roof for water tightness. They checked the medical equipment of Bec’s, as a courtesy, as regardless of who used it, it needed to be in perfect working order. Caitlin decided she would be on the lookout for a Boyle’s Machine of their own.
The evenings had changed since their house guests arrived. Bec had brought a CD player and a supply of batteries. Caitlin missed music. Brendan and Bec had a collection of music from the 70s right through to the 2010s. They spent their evenings listening to music or playing chess, draughts, or charades. The fire crackled and Caitlin sunk into the dusty old couch after another hard day’s work. The green couch had become surprisingly comfortable.
“I haven’t had fun like this since I went to a party with my parents as a child,” Brendan commented after a funny mime of ‘The Dictionary’ performed by Scott.
“Yes, and we didn’t talk like we do now.” Caitlin said. “I was always on my mobile phone. I must confess, I miss my phone. And my friend Jan, who I always texted; posted on Facebook. Tweeted... Wonder what’s happened to her.” Caitlin surprised herself as she hadn’t thought of Jan in a long time. Her friendship with Jan and her job at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary seemed a lifetime ago...and another world.
“You didn’t stay in contact?” Bec asked. “Mobile phone relay towers have only ceased working recently.”
Caitlin’s eyes met Scott’s; an imperceptible shake of his head accompanied his gaze. She wouldn’t tell them Scott had confiscated it when he took her from her uncle’s estate. “Well, I left my uncle’s home where I was staying in rather a rush.”
“Oh, I see. Had to get away in a hurry? You were in a dangerous situation then?” Bec leaned forward in the green armchair.
“Yes. Well, I would have been, if it wasn’t for Scott.”
“Did I hear you say once that you had a privileged upbringing? That’s how you know horses?”
“Well, I suppose you could say I did.” Caitlin glanced at Scott. He squinted one eye at her, and she read a warning in his expression. “I was holidaying at my uncle’s estate when the stock market crashed...Scott took me away in a hurry. He saved me from harm...” she hesitated at the memory. “They ransacked my uncle’s house.”
“So, your husband came to the rescue?” Brendan enquired.
“Yes, but that was before you were married, wasn’t it?” Bec answered for her. “Caitlin said they’d been married for four months when I asked her on the way here.”
Scott looked at Caitlin, blinking widely but then quickly blanked his expression before the other couple had noticed.
“So, you got married after the crash?” Brendan looked from Caitlin to Scott.
“Aye well, we planned to elope.” Scott took over the responses in this interrogation, friendly as it was. “The Stock Market Crash hurried it up for us somewhat.”
There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation. Scott creased his brow and his vision turned inward. Anxiety began to knot in her chest. What if they had heard Scott say they were married for twenty years? This could get difficult.
“My turn, ‘cos I got the one about ‘The Dictionary’,” Caitlin stood and started miming ‘The Lord of the Rings’.