“You can eat purt’ nigh ever’thing if you know how to cook it,” Elmer said.
“Aye, and I’m sure you do know how to cook it,” Duff said.
“I et me a Tasmanian Devil oncet,” Elmer said. “We put in to an island just off Australia. Tougher’n a mule, he was, and had ’im a strong stink, too. But after six weeks at sea with naught but weevily biscuits, molderin’ fatback and beans, why, it weren’t all that hard to get around the stink.”
The two worked together to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen; then they went back out onto the front porch. To the west, a red sun moved heavily down through the darkening sky until it touched the tops of the Laramie Mountain Range. After the sun set, it was followed by a moon that was equally as red.
“Elmer, ’tis thinking I am that I’ll be goin’ back to Scotland,” Duff said.
“What?” Elmer asked, surprised by the comment.
“Not to stay, mind you, but for a bit of a visit. I received a letter from Ian telling me that there are no charges against me, so there’s no danger in my returning.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“I’ll ride to Cheyenne tomorrow, take the train the next day. I’ll leave from New York two weeks from today.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Nae more than two months, I’m thinking. Then when I come back, I’ll be for getting some cattle on the place.”
Elmer laughed.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t want to say anything, you bein’ the boss an’ all. But I was beginnin’ to wonder iffen I was goin’ to have to tell you that in order to have a cattle ranch, you’ll be needin’ to have some cattle.”
“Oh, I know we need cattle,” Duff said. “That’s not the question. The question is what kind of cattle we need.”
“What do you mean, what kind of cattle do we need? Longhorns is the easiest. But lots of folks are raising Herefords now. Is that what you are thinkin’?”
“No, I’m thinking about introducing an entirely new breed.”
“Really? What kind?”
“Black Angus. The kind that I raised back in Scotland.”
“Is that why you are going back to Scotland? To get some of them black, what did you call ’em?”
“Angus. Black Angus.”
“That seems kind of foolish, don’t it? I mean goin’ all the way back to Scotland to get some special kind of cow when you can get Herefords here.”
“That’s not why I’m going back to Scotland. I’m going back in order that I might give a proper good-bye to those that I left so suddenly.”
Elmer nodded. “A proper good-bye, yes, I can see that.”
Duff stood in the middle of the cemetery behind the Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Donuun in Argyllshire. Holding a spray of heather in his hand, he looked down at the grave.
SKYE MCGREGOR
1866 – 1886
a light of love ...
Duff leaned down to place the flowers on the well-tended grave, then put his hand on the marble tombstone. Saying a silent prayer, he stood, then walked a half mile to the Whitehorse Pub.
The pub was filled with customers when Duff stepped inside, and he stood there unnoticed. Ian McGregor, the owner of the pub, had his back to the bar as he was filling a mug with ale. For just a moment he had a start, for there was a young woman, the same size and with the same red hair as Skye, waiting on the customers. But the illusion was destroyed when she turned.
Ian had just handed the ale to the customer and was about to put the money into the cash register when he looked toward the door.
“Duff!” he shouted at the top of his voice.
Ian’s shout alerted the others to Duff’s presence, and so many swarmed toward him that he was immediately surrounded. All wanted to shake his hand or pat him on the back. Duff smiled and greeted each of them warmly as they escorted him over to one of the tables. He had just taken his seat, when Ian placed a glass of Scotch in front of him.
“And would ye be for staying here now, lad?” Ian asked.
“Nae, ’tis but a visit,” Duff replied.
“For remember, ’tis no charge being placed against you. Three witnesses there were, who testified that you acted in self-defense.”
“Aye, ’twas explained to me in a letter,” Duff said. “But I’ve started a ranch, I’ve made friends, and I’ve begun a new life in America.”
