High on a Mountain (27 page)

James grumbled about the decision to deny
free time to the Highlanders. Since he was in charge of them, when
they worked, he had to be with them. He had looked forward to the
free time, but now it was denied him.

____________

One afternoon in late January when the
weather turned cold and drizzly, James brought the men in from the
field early. The weather was his excuse, but the real reason was
that a trader was expected to make a visit to the plantation store
this day and James didn’t want to miss it.

On the trader’s last trip, he showed James a
folding knife with a pearlescent handle made of shell, and James
wanted the knife. He managed to save some money, and he made a few
things to offer in trade as well. He was certain he had enough
value in money and goods to trade for the knife.

“Move along a little faster,” he urged. “Need
to get out of this rain.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to get back?”
Ruairidh asked.

“Just no need to drag along in the rain,”
James said.

Ruairidh looked at James with a doubtful
expression but said nothing more.

“Besides, the trader supposed to be at the
store today,” James admitted.

“Trader?”

“Yeah, they’s traders goes up to the
mountains and trades with the Indians. They gives the Indians guns
and cloth and needles and such, and the Indians gives them deer
skins and baskets and things like that. And they trade them for
things off the ships when they comes. Nice things.”

“Mountains? There’s no mountains here.”

“Not here. Up north of here. The Indian
lands. They’s high mountains up there.”

“You’ve seen these mountains?” Ruairidh
asked.

“No, just heard the trader talk about
them.”

____________

Ailean noticed that Ruairidh’s expression had
changed, that he appeared puzzled. “What is it?”

“He said there are mountains to the north of
us.”

“Mountains? I’ve looked in every direction
and I’ve never seen mountains,” Ailean said. “Has he been to the
mountains, seen them himself?”

“He says no. He says a trader told him
about—”

“Now there you go talking jibberish again,”
James interrupted. “You know I don’t like that. Unless it’s
something I told you to tell them.”

“He was just asking what you said, and I told
him you said there were mountains,” Ruairidh said.

Mountains.

____________

When spring came, James set the Highlanders
to work planting and cultivating the rice along with the other
slaves. But after the rice was half-grown and the trunks were
opened to flood the fields, he returned them to clearing new
acreage.

They became accustomed to the rhythm of life
on the plantation, but most still yearned to return to their
homeland. Those who, like Ailean, had lost their families, were
more accepting of their circumstances than those who had families
left behind in Scotland. But they did their work, steadily and
thoroughly, even though there were few rewards.

The strenuous labor toughened Ailean as
nothing ever had. The muscles of his body grew large and hard. His
clothing became too small for him as his muscles thickened, and he
had to have a new shirt and pair of
triubhas
because his old
clothes were too tight. He could lift and carry more weight than
any other man on the plantation. He had become a strong, powerful
man.

THIRTY-THREE

The Western Highlands of Scotland, December,
1748

Latharn sloshed more whisky into his glass.
He was halfway into the beckoning land of forgetfulness when he
heard someone call a greeting. He frowned, wondering vaguely who it
could be. Catriona shuffled to the door, muttering under her
breath.

“I need to speak to Latharn,” a familiar
voice said.

He stood, swaying, and ineffectively tried to
adjust his soiled clothing before lurching toward the open
door.

“Who wants to speak to me?” he demanded,
slurring his words.

“I do.” Brandubh, Ualraig Cambeul’s
assistant, stood in the doorway.

“Eh?” Latharn squinted and blinked, trying to
marshal what remained of his senses.

“Ualraig told me to deliver a message to you.
You are to come to his home tomorrow morning. He wants to see you.”
Brandubh’s voice exuded an unmistakable tone of condescension.

“He wants to see me?” Latharn repeated, as
though the words were unfamiliar and he was trying to understand
their meaning.

“Aye. Come tomorrow morning. While you’re
sober. If that’s possible.” Brandubh took a long look at Latharn’s
saggy face, bleary, bloodshot eyes, reddened nose, and shook his
head. He turned to Catriona. “Please be sure he comes to Inveraray
tomorrow. It’s important.” He turned and sauntered out the open
door.

____________

Catriona enlisted the help of her grandson to
get Latharn up and ready for the ride to Inveraray the next
morning. He was sober and his clothes were clean, but his shaking
hands and bloodshot eyes belied his prolonged bout of drinking.

When he arrived at Ualraig’s home, a servant
ushered him into the room where the Duke’s estate manager usually
met with his tenants. Latharn looked restlessly at the elegant
surroundings as he waited, fidgeting and ill-at-ease.

“Latharn,” said Ualraig as he entered the
room. “Thank you for coming.”

Latharn nodded tentatively, unsure how to
respond.

“There’s an important matter I have to speak
to you about,” Ualraig continued. “Please, be seated.”

They sat on velvet-covered chairs which
flanked a rich mahogany side table. Ualraig settled himself
comfortably while Latharn perched nervously on the edge of his
seat.

“Some matters have come to my attention that
we need to discuss. I’ve heard some upsetting rumors about you. But
I wanted to speak to you about them, not just rely on hearsay.
However, I fear, from your appearance, there may be some truth to
the rumors.”

“Wh-what rumors?” Latharn stuttered, an
uncharacteristic timidity impeding his words.

“That you spend your time in a drunken daze
instead of attending to your responsibilities,” Ualraig said. “You
haven’t paid the rent on the farm, either. I won’t tolerate that
kind of neglectful behavior in my tacksmen.”

“I…but…well—” Latharn began.

“Please. Don’t bother to lie. I can see for
myself. Look at your hands, how they shake. And if you could see
yourself, how unkempt you look…your bloodshot eyes. No, don’t even
bother to lie to me.”

Latharn ducked his head in shame, turned his
eyes to the opulent woven rug beneath his feet, away from Ualraig’s
piercing stare.

“I warned you. I told you if you didn’t stop
this behavior and conduct yourself as befits your rank I’d relieve
you of your position. My warning seems to have been wasted. So, I’m
reclaiming your tack.”

Latharn’s head jerked up. “But…but what am I
to do? How am I to live without my tack?”

“You will have to see to that yourself.”

“But who will manage the farm?”

“I’m offering your tack to your cousin
Suibhne. He’s next in line.”

“But—”

Ualraig Cambeul stood, signifying that the
interview was over. “Suibhne will be moving into the house next
week. Be sure to have your belongings removed by then.”

He turned on his heel and walked out.

Latharn was stunned. Where could he go? What
could he do? He walked outside, trying desperately to think of
something he could do to get back into Ualraig’s good graces,
something he could do to discredit Suibhne and regain his
position.

He took the reins of his horse from a
servant, and the man said, “I hear one can make his way in the
colonies.”

Latharn scowled. Even the lowest of the
servants knew about his disgrace. He mounted his horse and rode to
his house.

____________

By February, the Highlanders had cleared all
the additional acreage Mr. Hollingsworth intended to plant and
James started them building earthen berms around the newly cleared
fields and digging drainage ditches. Mr. Hollingsworth came to
appraise the results of their work.

“You’ve done very well, James,” he said as he
and James stood on the guard’s platform surveying the fields.

“Thank you, sir,” James said, a proud smile
on his lips.

“I didn’t expect to have half this much
cleared by now. Yes, you’ve done very well indeed,” the planter
went on. “I think I can arrange for you to have a reward for your
hard work.”

“Thank you, sir,” James said, wondering what
the reward might be. He started to speculate about it, then decided
that was not a good idea. He might set his expectations too high
and be disappointed. Better to wait and see.

Mr. Hollingsworth watched two Highlanders as
they worked to lengthen a side ditch to join the main center trench
that stretched through the field toward the river.

“These Scotsmen are good workers. Better than
I expected. Maybe my gamble has paid off, and I didn’t waste my
money after all,” he said. “But…do they always sing like this?”

“They do when they working,” James said.

“I don’t understand the words, but the tune
is rather pleasant,” Hadley said, and hummed a few notes. “I
suppose they must be happy people, to sing like that.”

“I don’t know, sir.” James reached up to
scratch his head. His eyes took on a thoughtful expression as he
regarded the two Highlanders. “I never seen none of ’em smile.
Never heard none of ’em laugh.”

“Well, I guess the saying must be true, then,
that Scots are dour people,” Mr. Hollingsworth said. “Will this
field be ready by planting time, do you think?”

James thought for a moment. “Probably.”

“Next week I’ll send the crew to install the
trunk. Surely they’ll have the drainage ditches completed by
then.”

____________

Latharn walked through his childhood home one
last time, recalling the happy times he’d spent in the only home
he’d ever known.

There, by the window which overlooked the
garden, that was where his father sat and drank his morning tea
when Latharn was a tiny boy, sitting on his father’s knee. He
looked out the window to the garden, where his father had given him
his first pony.

Each step through his home, each view of the
now-empty rooms, brought a fresh rush of memories. He’d once
enjoyed recalling those past times, but the impending loss of his
home made them painful now. And his home, his remembrances of his
beloved father and his mother, all this was being taken from him
because of Ailean MacLachlainn.

Latharn had thought he hated MacLachlainn
before, but those feelings paled beside the torrent of loathing and
fury that coursed through him, pushing all other ideas and
sensations from him. His head throbbed and his throat constricted,
choked him, ached from holding back a scream.

After the first churning waves of outrage
pounded forth from the nurtured knot of hatred for Ailean
MacLachlainn, spent themselves and left him trembling, there
remained the desire, the need, the compulsion to wreak vengeance.
MacLachlainn ruined his life, had taken away the only woman Latharn
ever loved, had caused him to lose his home, his livelihood, his
position of respect in the clan, everything that mattered to him.
His life was over, like Mùirne’s, ended by MacLachlainn.

Latharn’s one thought was,
He has to
pay
.

He had sold his cattle, his furniture, books
and most of his clothing. Latharn packed the few things he had left
and departed the house before Suibhne arrived to take possession of
it. He didn’t get as much money as he had expected, but he knew it
would be more than enough for passage to the colonies.

Latharn didn’t realize until that moment he
had already decided to go to the colonies to find MacLachlainn and
exact retribution for all he had suffered because of the man. When
MacLachlainn was dead, Latharn could begin to live again. And maybe
he could forget Mùirne.

He clenched his teeth as an exquisite torture
of guilt stabbed him, twisted like a knife in his entrails.

His next thought was
, I need a
drink.

____________

Latharn remembered the name of the ship on
which MacLachlainn and the other prisoners had been transported,
and he was certain this was the vessel. He strode across the wharf
to the gangway but was stopped by a guard before he could walk on
board.

He demanded to speak to the captain.
Latharn’s commanding presence and forceful demeanor made him appear
to be an important person. The guard acquiesced and told Latharn to
wait. He went to the upper level of the ship and returned,
accompanied by a man in uniform.

“You wish to speak to Captain Hawsey?” the
man asked Latharn.

“Aye.”

“He isn’t available at present. Please tell
me your business. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“And who are you?”

Mr. Jones visibly bristled, drew himself to
his full height and answered, “I’m First Mate Jones.”

“Maybe you can help me,” Latharn said. “I
want to know what happened to the prisoners who were taken from
Inveraray, Argyllshire, on this ship two years ago. Where were they
taken?”

“Perhaps the captain can help you. I
certainly cannot. I only came aboard last spring.”

“When can I see the captain?”

“He is away from the ship conducting business
at the moment.”

“I have to speak to him!”

“Perhaps he can see you when he returns this
afternoon. We will be sailing on the tide tomorrow. If your query
is important, I suggest you see him before we depart,” said Mr.
Jones. He turned away without further comment and returned to the
upper deck, leaving Latharn standing on the gangway.