Highland Laddie Gone

party and being-in her quiet, well-bred way-quite amused. The thought of appearing ridiculous to someone as sensible as Marge troubled him when he allowed himself to consider it-which was not often, and never for long.

He banished the scene from his mind just as he came face-to-face with the one clan chief he had not intended to invite: Colin Campbell. Dr. Hutcheson’s antipathy toward Colin lay not in the traditional MacDonald-Campbell feuds, but in the much more personal area of hospital politics, in which Dr. Campbell, by any other name, would still have been a pain in the ass. Since the games were a social event, Dr. Hutcheson tried to pass off their meeting with a cordial nod, but it was part of Colin Campbell’s lack of charm that he never separated business from pleasure.

“So it’s you, is it?” he growled, squinting at Walter. “What’s this rubbish I hear about a personnel board?”

“Colin, there have been some complaints about you. Personally, I mean, not medically.”

“Personally is nobody’s business.”

“Well, Colin, you know… You just put people’s backs up. Like when you asked the young lady on 3B to get you some coffee and a doughnut.”

“She’s complaining about that?”

“She’s a neurosurgeon.”

“Well, she ought to see about her own nerves if she’s as touchy as that. I don’t see that it’s worth calling a meeting over.”

“No. Parkes said he waited until the complaint folder on you was too full to stay closed, and then he decided to convene. This one was just the final straw.”

Dr. Campbell’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you volunteered to head this kangaroo court?”

“Somebody had to do it.”

“Somebody’s going to regret it, too,” said Colin Campbell, his voice rising. “You know that lake property you Ve invested in? I’ll bet you don’t know who your fellow owners are.”

“Nonsense, Colin. The university owns a good bit of the land.” Walter Hutcheson sounded a bit shaken. His investments hadn’t been going so well since Marge had turned it all over to him. She used to be phenomenally lucky.

“Don’t forget that I’m a trustee, Walter. If we declare that lake a wildlife preserve, your little condo scheme is going straight down the tubes. And since my interest in marine biology is well known, no one’s going to be too surprised when I suggest it.”

“Colin, I doubt that a trustee-Anyway, you’re talking about a lot of money here. A childish reaction, really. We both know that there’s not a thing they can do to you, not even if they have a dozen meetings!”

“Childish am I? And I suppose you’re the one who’s going to send me to the principal’s office? Well, I hope you get your money’s worth.”

Dr. Hutcheson didn’t realize that he was shouting. “If you ruin this lake project for me, I’ll see you in hell, doctor!”

A woman in a Logan tartan shied and hurried away. Honestly, she thought, the real ones are as bad as on General Hospital.

Colin Campbell ambled along the row of clan tents humming contentedly to himself. Quite a lot of the Campbells were inclined to forget the age-old feuds between the clans and to behave like everybody else at these festivals, but Colin believed in keeping the traditions alive. It relieved the monotony of life, for one thing. Colin didn’t like people, as a rule, which might seem strange for a physician, but actually the two were not incompatible. Colin Campbell rarely thought of his patients as people: they were anatomical projects. He worked on them as a jackleg mechanic might tinker with cars, and he didn’t trouble himself over whether he liked them individually. There were exceptions, of course. Colin Campbell liked some people very well indeed, but they were merely the exceptions proving the rule. Having been thoroughly objectionable to everyone all afternoon, thus upholding the Campbell reputation, Colin was treating himself to a visit with one of his few friends.

He found her in the practice meadow walking her border collie.

“Always dogs!” he chided her. “Don’t you ever associate with people?”

“I’m fond of beasts!” Marge Hutcheson called back. “And you qualify. Want to walk with us?”

“I might as well. I’ve just had a run-in with that husband of yours, and I need to work off steam.”

Marge raised her eyebrows. “I assume you mean Walter.”

“I said your husband, didn’t I?” He flushed. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that he’s been even more of a damned fool than usual. Anyway, the bit of fluff is such a nonentity that I keep forgetting she exists.”

Marge smiled. “Colin, you old liar! I’ll bet you haven’t even met her.”

“Well, who says I have to? When a man of Walter’s age makes a fool of himself over a skinny teenager-”

“Oh, Colin, stop blustering. I’ll bet you’ve been at it all day.”

“Pretty well.” He grinned.

“Get anyone’s goat?”

“Fair to middling. That Maid of the Cat accused me of being in drag.”

“Served you right, you old bully! I’ll bet you liked her for it, too.”

“No respect for her elders,” he grunted.

“That’s my friend Elizabeth MacPherson, so you leave her alone. And what have you been after Walter about? Not his marital status, surely.”

“No. He’s trying to convene some lynch mob against me at the hospital, so I threatened to hit him where it hurts: in the pocketbook!”

“You’re going to sue him?”

“Nah! Then the lawyers get all the fun. I’m going to see that he loses a bundle on that lakefront property he bought. Get it zoned against condos.”

“Colin, you really are incorrigible.” Marge shook her head. “How is Walter doing in his investments, anyway?”

“How do you think? You were the only one with a grain of sense about it. Clever of you to hand them over to him. I doubt if he’ll be able to afford his childbride at the rate he’s going.”

“Well, I expect she has money of her own, if it isn’t tied up in Scotland.”

“Scotland?”

“See!” cried Marge triumphantly. “I knew you hadn’t met her! Colin, you really should behave so that people would invite you places. You’d learn so much more that way.”

“Scotland, eh? What’s he done, found Flora MacDonald?”

“Better than that, from what I hear. Walter says she’s the niece of a Scottish nobleman.”

Colin Campbell grunted. “Some of those lords are poorer than schoolteachers.”

“That’s what I said.” Marge nodded. “But Elizabeth is sure Walter said he was a duke.”

Colin Campbell snorted. “The only duke Walter knows is the university in Durham. Lousy basketball team!”

“Oh, leave poor Walter alone.” Marge sighed. “What’s done is done. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? You still have that ugly brute of a bulldog?”

They walked off together down one of the Glencoe Mountain nature trails, too far from the festival grounds for the participants to be startled by the sound of Colin Campbell-laughing.

CHAPTER SIX

“A DOCTORATE in biology is not required to keep ducks in a cardboard box,” said Cameron between clenched teeth.

“No, but in order to drive a car, one must remember which side of the road to drive on,” said Geoffrey sweetly. “How are the ducks?”

“They’re huddled in the box, saying cheep, cheep, cheep.”

“They’re lying, then. They cost me six bucks apiece. The problem is, how are we going to smuggle them into the herding box?”

Cameron raised his eyebrows. “We? I’m supposed to meet Elizabeth soon.”