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The Present
Spring
Outside, the morning was white, calm, and serene. The quiet was palpable, the glare eye-aching as the early spring sun shone on the last snowfall of the season.
“March! ‘In like a lion, out like a lamb.’ Isn’t that what they say?” Brendan stood at the window with Scott. It had snowed heavily the previous evening, another white-out. Brendan and Bec had said they would like to leave within the next few days; the overnight blizzard delayed them.
“We must have a farewell dinner.” Caitlin pushed her shoulder against the backdoor, now jammed shut with the pile up of snow. “We can have roast venison. I’ll get a cut from the shed and bring it in to defrost.”
In the evening, they ate their last dinner with Bec and Brendan. A bright cloth covered the large kitchen table and they served the meal on a miss-match of tableware. The roasted venison, well-seasoned with dried rosemary, Caitlin cooked in the Aga oven, the aromas having permeated the cottage for the past few hours. Roast potatoes and pumpkin went with the meat and tinned peas.
“Can’t wait to get the spring planting started. Need some fresh greens. Getting tired of tinned vegetables. I’ll make some cloches to get a head start.” Caitlin’s face was warm from her time of cooking on the hot range.
“Aye well, we have nae any glass cloches.” Scott’s eyes flicked with thought, his mind in creative overdrive. “But you can devise something from the transparent plastic we’ve been salvaging from everywhere we can think of, aye?”
Brendan held up his glass filled with a dram of twenty-one-year-old Scotch.
“To our hosts. The beautiful Caitlin who always has a smile and looks like a million dollars no matter what she’s wearing! Who works hard and has made this old crofter’s cottage a home.” Brendan lifted his glass higher as Caitlin smiled appreciatively. He continued, “And to her man Scott, without whom, I honestly believe, we would not have survived this winter. The huntsman and horseman extraordinaire and handyman, who can devise anything from junk and make it useful! Thank-you both for your hospitality and friendship. May we meet again and always be friends.”
Glasses clinked as they touched.
“Slainte Mhor,” Scott said.
“Slainte Mhor,” echoed around the table.
The sound of dogs and startled chickens halted their toast. Scruffy growled. Caitlin leaned down and held him by the collar. They rose from the table as one to the clamour erupting in the backyard. Scott retrieved his shotgun and ran to the backdoor. Caitlin looked out the kitchen window. In the yard, a pack of dogs attacked their chickens, their dark forms visible against the snow-covered ground. The dogs dug under the deeply buried chicken wire. They removed the chickens, one by one, from their sheltered hut. Feathers and blood sprayed in all directions. Growls from dogs and shrieks of chickens resounded in the night air.
“Oh, no you dinnae, ye bastards!” Scott said under his breath as he took aim. Two shots rang out in quick succession with two dogs down. Brendan grabbed a handgun and dispatched three more. They both stayed near the backdoor of the cottage.
“Don’t move too near those wild dogs. Aye? They’ll go at ye, Bren,” Scott told his companion at arms as he reloaded the shotgun.
The domestic dogs-gone-wild scattered and attempted retreat. Scott and Brendan moved from the doorway and pursued each one until they killed them all.
“Better be the last o’ that lot!” Scott shouted after he shot and killed the final fleeing animal.
“They looked like pet dogs!” Bec stood next to Caitlin in the backdoor way as they peered after the men.
“They were,” Scott replied. “But it’s a thin veneer of domesticity that our wee pet doggies wear, that’s for certain!”
“Remember that’s how we lost our first goat,” Caitlin said to Bec as she began to make her way to the chicken coup.
“No, lass.” Scott stopped her. “Let me make sure there is nae any still lurking about. Dinnae want a repeat o’ last time, aye?’
“What happened last time?” Bec asked.
“The pack leader attacked Scott,” Caitlin explained. “Its teeth didn’t sink into him. Only got the sleeve of his coat. But they’re vicious animals now.”
Scott declared the coast clear, then he and Brendan assessed the damage. The men threw the dog’s bodies in a heap near the yard fence. They would burn them later. The rooster and two hens survived.
“I’ll have to restart my poultry venture. Could’ve been worse,” Caitlin said. “Scott, was that the same pack?”
“Dinnae ken. Need to make the lock to the hen-hut more secure. There’s sure to be more than one pack. Wonder why they’re moving back here,” he said more to himself than anyone. “I’ll check the boundaries tomorrow.”
Scott and Brendan lit a fire to burn the dog and chicken bodies. Caitlin watched from the kitchen window as the flames lit up the backyard, melting the snow surrounding the pyre. Transfixed by the yellow and orange display, she absent-mindedly washed the dishes in the sink.
“Brendan and I have decided we’ll leave tomorrow if the weather stays fine,” Bec said as Caitlin handed her another plate to dry.
Caitlin had a twang of guilt at her relief that their friends were going. At times the cottage had been a small place for two couples over winter.
“I’ll really miss you, Bec.” She couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped her throat. But it was time for their friends to move on. They were part of their future, according to Scott, and not their present.
“Me too.” Bec returned the hug. “But we’ll see you guys again, I’m sure. We’ll make certain of it.”
***
THE NEXT MORNING SCOTT stared at Caitlin as she stood outside the backdoor next to Bec. Bags of their belongings hung from each arm. Caitlin looked at her friend, her eyebrows creasing in the middle. She did it when she tried to decipher her thoughts or feelings about something. Caitlin looked conflicted, but she was right. It was time for Bec and Brendan to leave.
“Bye. We’ll miss you both.” Caitlin wrapped her arms around Bec’s shoulders.
Scott took Bec and Brendan to the edge of the property. They walked behind him, carrying what he couldn’t place over Adam’s back. Near the copse of Scots pine, Brendan helped him remove the camouflage from their vehicle. He’d offered them some petrol, but they declined, saying they had enough fuel and wouldn’t take any of his. Scott helped them load their car, placing the citizen band radio in the back. He had given it to them to ensure they had contact with others. They planned to continue their journey north in search of a place suitable for them to settle and had promised to send word if they had found and set up such a place.
Caitlin stayed back at the cottage. Scott made Scruffy stay, as ‘an early warning system’, he liked to phrase it. Scott spent the next few hours checking the boundaries and inspecting his markers which he set to determine if anyone, man or beast, had passed. Scott found most of the markers buried by snow and needing resetting. He spent some time over them and peered at the surrounding countryside through the small telescope with 50-times and 100-times lenses, which he now carried with him for regular use.
On one such sweep, a group of men on foot headed toward the copse. He watched them for an hour. They were stationary, with no clear intent to move forward, so he returned to the cottage.
***
“JUST WANT TO GO BACK and determine if they are staying or movin’ on. I’ll only be a wee while,” Scott reassured Caitlin after explaining about the men.
“Okay. But could you please get the plastic you were talking about down from the roof space before you leave?” She gave a pleading smile. It always seemed to work. “I’m eager to make my cloches.”
Scott grimaced and hurriedly climbed up into the roof space. His legs dangled from the manhole in the ceiling as he passed the rolls of plastic to her. Scruffy began to bark frantically. Scott leaped from the roof space and looked out of the window into the back garden.
“No!” he snarled. “It’s the same group of men I saw in our copse.”
Scott retrieved his rifle from the kitchen bench where he’d left it on entering the cottage and took the safety off his handgun, while grabbing a magazine of ammunition from the pantry.
“Stay inside,” he ordered her. “Do not come out. Stay down out of sight. If something happens to me, lock yourself in. Don’t come out. Get the handgun and be ready to shoot to kill. Aye?”
Caitlin nodded mutely. Her heart pounded, the pulsation loud in her ears. Scott shut the door behind him. She breathed rapidly and had to focus to slow it down. She needed to find out what was going on.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Scott’s voice came through the window. “What brings you to this part of Glencoe?”
Caitlin peered through the large old-fashioned keyhole of the backdoor. Scruffy stood beside his master, growling. The men were a shabby, thin, dirty, and savage looking group. Some of them carried guns, all were armed with knives or a sharp object of some sort. This dozen men appeared relaxed, except for one at the back of the group who was fidgety and restless, with eyes darting everywhere at once. He was not wearing a paisley shirt today, but his neck covered in tattoos was very familiar. Standing next to him, looking casually at everything from the damaged chicken coup to Scott’s prized stallion, was another familiar face. Once again, a cloud of vapour surrounded the man as he exhaled. He held a silver square object in the palm of his hand. From their position, they could view the cottage windows.
Scott stood in front of the kitchen window, legs wide apart and shoulders braced. His hands tight on his rifle and his pistol tucked in his belt at the back. His imposing frame guarding his home and woman.
The tallest and skinniest of them answered as spokesman.
“Well, helloo. Nice wee set up ye have here. How long ye been here for then?”
“Long enough.” Scott was curt. “How can I help you be on ye way?”
“Oh. I am surprised!” His accent was mild, that of a Lowlander. “I’d heard Highlanders were famous for their hospitality. And with this severe weather we’ve been having! I thought we’d be more welcome than this.”
Scott did nothing to improve the welcome previously extended.
“Had problems with your chickens, I see.” The man from the Boarders commented.
“Aye. Wild dogs. Will nae be a problem anymore.” Scott indicated with his chin to the funeral pyre near the fence. The smell of burnt flesh and the distinctive stench of singed animal fur still hung in the air. Ashes swirled as a slight breeze blew, lifting them into the air and the faces of the unwelcome guests.
“So, that’s what you do with your unwanted guests, is it then?” the spokesman coughed and waved a swirl of ashes away from his eyes.
“How can I help you be on your way?” Scott repeated.
The leader raised his head at the unyielding nature of the man before him.
“My friends and I have been travelling for some time and, well, we are quite hungry. Could you possibly spare us something to eat and then we will be on our way, as you wish?”
“You are on my property uninvited. I will give you some provisions and you will leave the way you came and not cross my boundaries again. Understood?”
The spokesman nodded slightly, never lifting his eyes from Scott, who backed into the cottage. Ducking low, Caitlin made her way to the pantry and gathered non-perishable foodstuffs for the men. Once the sack was half full, Scott took it and indicated for her to lock the door once he left. Scott returned outside to the men who had not appeared to move. Scruffy continued growling. She peered again through the wide keyhole.
Adam had wandered, nibbling grass. Scott whistled quietly. The horse returned to him and Scott mounted, still holding the half full sack of provisions and his rifle, never taking his eyes off the men.
“Ye will all stay put for a wee moment, while I give this to your friend here.” He lifted the sack in his hand. “Then ye will all turn around and walk back the way ye came. I’ll be watching ye all from a distance, aye.”
Scott rode to the spokesman and handed him the sack.
“Thank-you, kind sir. Highland hospitality is all they say it is.” The man took the sack from Scott.
They turned and wandered off in the direction from which they had come. This was not the direct path, but across a nearby field and through a boundary fence covered in snow. Scott continued to follow them from a distance. When they were out of her sight, Caitlin carefully stepped out of the cottage and gazed in the direction they left.
She walked to the garden shed. Its door was slightly ajar. She peered in; some hooks on the wall were now empty. A shiver went down her spine. How did they...?
Scott soon returned.
“They appeared to be halting at the copse of Scots pine, so I indicated they were to continue. They were soon well out of sight. I viewed them through the telescope moving farther and farther away.”
“They took some things.” She pointed to the shed.
“What! When? I barely took my eyes off them, except for when I was in the house and then I was checking them through the windy’ all the time,” he shook his head. “What’s missin’?”
“Shears, pruners and some other sharp things. I don’t like those men!”
“Aye, I dinnae think we are finished with those felons yet.”
“I recognised two of them. They’ve been at the market in Fort William.”
“Which two?”
“The one with the neck covered in tattoos and the guy who vaped.”
“Vaped? Oh, the lad surrounded by smoke?”
Caitlin nodded.
“Aye, well,” he held her by the shoulders. “I’ll ride the boundaries regularly from now on. The weather is improving, and people are on the move. I’ll be more vigilant with my surveillance of our property. When I’m away, you carry a weapon always and never be too far from the house where you will lock yourself in if you see a stranger approaching, or if you see me with someone you dinnae ken and if I look concerned or anything’s amiss. Aye?”
She wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and held him tight, his solid frame pushing away the icy dread inside her.
“We’ll be all right Cait. Just need to be more careful.”
****
THE DOOR SLAMMED SHUT behind him and the room filled with the sweet smell of strawberries.
“You’re back at last.” McSweeny turned in his chair. Brian’s hood partially covered his face and the last wisps of vapour surrounded him. “You saw the Lowlander at his headquarters then?”
“Aye.” Brian put his square silver vape battery in his pocket and pulled his hood away from his face.
“Legit then?”
“Aye. We stopped by a property on the way down.”
“And?” McSweeny turned fully in his chair now. The kid sounded like he had something interesting to say.
“I’ve seen the guy who lives there before, at the sometimes-market here at Fort William.” Brian smirked.
“And?” McSweeny raised his eyebrows. Honestly, sometimes it was like extracting teeth.
“I did nae see her, but she was there, must have been. It was the guy who she was with when she’s been to the market.” Brian’s smirk broadened.
“And ‘she’ is?”
“The blonde chick.”
The blonde chick—that beauty. At last she was in sight. McSweeny took his finger out of his mouth; he had no nails left to bite, anyway.
“Next time you are passing, you get her. Okay?”
“Aye, but the guy she’s with won’t let her go without a fight.”
“Be ready to fight then.”
Brian tilted his head and left. McSweeny looked at his fingers. He had bitten them to the quick and his thumbs bled again. What was he doing? He bit his lower lip. It’s the market. He was doing what he had to do to survive. He had to round up more units before settlement of the deal. Plenty of people were gradually coming into debt, and now with no banks to bail them out with tide-you-over loans, loan sharks were everywhere. It was amazing what people would sell to settle a debt when their lives were threatened.