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In the event, Gillan and Neil had their own discussion that settled the matter.
Gillan took Neil aside one day before supper to have a word with him, away from the women. “Neil, I’ve considered our choices. The only way we’ll get enough silver to buy a plot of land is to be laborers during the good-weather season. I’ve written to a friend of the Reverend’s here, and the Reverend is fair sure he’ll take us on at the cargo mill upriver. It’s a big sawmill where—”
“I don’t care what it is. You think I’m going to leave with you again, after what happened the last time? I’ll not be leaving my family alone again, Uncail. How much worse is it going to be here where we know no one?”
Gillan’s expression changed with Neil’s use of the term Uncle, which was less respectful than calling him Father or even Stepfather. He blinked, and continued in a rough, desperate voice.
“The laird meant to burn them all out. There was nothing we could have done. It was bad that it happened after we’d been given assurances, that is true. But we’ve learned the lesson, and will not trust any of the high-class bastards around here.” He darted a quick look toward the brazier and the cooking pot before continuing in a lower voice. “That’s why we’re here, Neil. And we’ll do all right if we gather our resources before jumping into anything before we have a plan.”
“You may have nae plan,” Neil said testily.
“Neil,” Gillan’s voice held a warning.
“Why are you afraid to go out east? They said there were plots a-plenty, half-worked and abandoned. It’s perfect. We jus’ need to go up Antigonish way, talk to more people—”
“Ye’ll do nae such thing. I’m doing this for you, Neil. For yer mother. D’ye think I want to go sell my health to another filthy, crowded place?” He switched tacks. “And for yourself, can ye not see the opportunity in a trade in a town, more surety than picking a living out of rocky or clay soil, at the mercy of a laird or a government, and the Lord’s weather—”
Neil eyed him, not wanting to give in at any point but seeing the reasonableness of this argument. “Aye,” he said. “There may be some trades good to enter now, if I’m not past age already, but never, if it is at the expense of my family.” He paused, looking to see if Gillan felt the shame of not wanting to protect them himself. How is it he thinks they’ll be perfectly safe, after what they’ve already been through?
“They are my family too, ken. And I wilna be without means to ensure they are safe. That was my promise on coming here.”
So he wants the means to provide for them, while I want to protect them with my own self, thought Neil. Then I guess we can both get what we want. “Then we split ourselves up to make sure we achieve both our aims. You find the money; I’ll be their protection.”
Gillan grunted at him, not wanting to admit the reason in his son’s plan any more than Neil had. After a moment spent looking out the window, he sighed, his shoulders shifting cautiously down. “A’right, Neil. We shall split ourselves, to achieve both our ends. It may take longer, and you may come to regret missing your chance, but I’ve said enough. Ye’re yer own man now.”
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When Neil told his mother, she couldn’t decide whom to glare at more, her son or her husband. Neil saw the conflicting emotions tearing through her: losing a husband, keeping a son, relief at not being left alone, fear how her husband would deal with all the risk on his own.
Gillan stayed long enough to hear Neil give the news, then ducked his head and left the room. Sheila pulled Neil close and clutched at him. “Thank you, Neil. For convincing him. It’s glad I am you’ll be here, my son.”
Now that the decision had been taken, Gillan had more letters for Sheila to send, more people to see, a voyage to plan. Responsibilities shifted for their room fee, and Neil began to make his way overnight to farther and farther destinations, where he would spend the day talking to folk about the available land. Much of it was in the inland hills or forested land, hard to access and hard to tame. When he returned from these forays around the island, he related the important details he’d learned to all the family in front of the fire, then fell asleep instantly. His chores waited for him on his return, and the routine quickly began to wear him down again.
Gillan removed himself from the chore rotation and went out to do laboring work in order to gain some silver for the journey west. He came in at mealtimes, and talked to everyone sociably except Neil. Neil tried to take this lightly, but it did a job on his spirit, the same as his travels were doing to his body. Muirne often was the one to wake him after a long nap or a short night of sleep, and she did so by laying her cheek against his chest, and digging her hands under him for a hug. She’d give him a lopsided smile and tell him it was ‘time for the day to begin again.’
In addition to her boarding chores, Muirne took over teaching Sheena and Alisdair, instructing them in reading and writing. They started in Gaelic, using the Bible and the small black slate. Chalk was hard to come by, but Sheena went to the schoolmaster’s house and begged for the small castaway pieces.
The single men that boarded with Mrs. Conaghey were incessantly polite to Muirne, but when she ventured out, there were glances and shouts. One embarrassing episode had occurred when she looked up at one of the shouts because she’d been crossing the street, and thought it might announce an approaching vehicle. Instead of a carriage or a horseman, she saw two young blond men in workmen’s aprons. One’s face held a big grin, and he was being shoved in her direction by his friend. Fearing they would consider her attention an acknowledgement, she quickly averted her gaze and crossed the street, almost running into a buggy coming the other way.
The driver of the buggy, a sharp-eyed man of middle age with a large bushy mustache, reined the horses in. She was about to apologize when she saw his gaze flicker to the young men not far distant. He nodded at her to pass, keeping his gaze over her shoulder. She reached the other side of the road, flushed and unsettled from the whole encounter.
She wondered if it would be any better in a bigger city or in the country ’round about Pictou. She’d felt safe at home on their island, but was that because she’d been younger and less experienced? Or because they knew all their neighbors and shared the same code of civility? She hadn’t thought it was a question of civility, but of common decency, but apparently, the Big City and the New Country had their own codes. She was relieved to know Neil would stay close by, even though it looked to be taking a toll on him to assume such a role so young.
––––––––
They prepared for Gillan’s leave-taking. He’d had the offer through Mr. Brown’s friend confirmed, and would be setting off by St. Columba’s Day. For his part, he did his round of thank-yous, making sure to leave what neighbors there were on good terms. It was agreed that the eldest Wilson boy would accompany him, to look out for any opportunities upriver. Gillan also updated the will they’d carried with them, leaving the document with a bank clerk.
The family felt the edge of Gillan’s bitterness in these last few days, even when he made efforts to be involved. Sheila expressed her faith in his ability to earn the silver to find a good plot. She stayed down in the common kitchen for a long time, at the stove making oat bannocks and stovies that would keep for a few days of his journey.
Neil tried to stay out of his father’s way, as he could feel the bridled hostility most acutely. It was a bustling, but not a happy household, despite the good situation they had found and the good weather that held. When Gillan had his food laid in, his few tools collected, and his spare shirt packed, he announced he was ready to leave that morning. He said farewell on the steps of the boarding house, promising to send word as soon as he could with any news.
Coming to Neil, he put his hand across to his shoulder. He seemed about to say something, but coughed instead and pulled him close. Neil pressed his arm around his stepfather, but kept his expression schooled to blankness, Muirne saw. It was painful, and she put her hand to her breastbone, which hurt with this break in the family. The last time she had felt the pain just there had been when they heard the news her father was gone.
Gillan saw his family’s tears: they stayed in his mind’s eye as he left to catch the boat that would take him up the St. Lawrence. He shook his head to free himself of the image a few times, then gave it up. His wife’s anguished expression haunted him. He’d promised to make as much as he could, as quickly as possible, and spare nothing for his own keep, until they had enough for the new land west of the river, said to be flatter and more fertile.
Muirne heard his whispered words to her mother, and winced again at pain in her breastbone.
“When I return, it will be worth it.”