Finlay snuck Hurley a sugar cube as he saddled him. The spirited black stallion had taken some time and effort to control, but horse and rider were now always perfectly in sync. Finlay wouldn’t admit how much he loved the stubborn horse, who wouldn’t allow another near him.
As they left the stable and trotted their horses down the well-worn dirt path that cut through the tall grasses leading out of the main courtyard, Adam fell in beside Finlay. His younger brother had a quiet intelligence that Finlay responded to more than he did most people. All listened intently when Adam spoke, for he never did so without putting in a good deal of thought on the matter first.
“How are you feeling about everything, Fin?” he asked, perceptive to his brother’s brooding silence. “I know you’ve always felt responsible for this place. Now you know it will truly be yours one day.”
“I still have trouble believing that Callum tossed us aside as he did,” Finlay responded, not directly answering his question. “I know we’re not in a great spot right now, but to leave behind your family, your responsibility, all you’ve ever known, for a woman? I can see why Father was shocked. I could never do such a thing, not with so many people relying on me.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” said Roderick, who had ridden up behind them and was listening closely to the conversation. “That’s why Callum knew all would be well. You love this place, and you appreciate the responsibility. He knew it would be better off with you.”
Finlay sighed. He had been as surprised as his father was to receive the letter that Callum wasn’t returning home from across the ocean. He had gone west to find their cousin, Gregor, and he had found not only him but a wife as well—a British wife. He said that together they had decided to stay in the Northwest Territories, and now Callum was going to be an officer of the law, of all things.
Finlay wondered whether this woman had devised some scheme to cause his brother to take such an action. How else could Callum have just left them all?
By staying, Callum had given up his claim to become chieftain of their clan one day. Not that there was much to give up, Finlay mused. They were barely getting by as it was and his father was more a landlord than anything else.
“The MacTavishes moved some of their crofters again,” said Roderick, breaking through Finlay’s thoughts. “Instead of livestock, they think raising Lowland sheep will bring in more income.”
They could be right, Finlay pondered, though he didn’t react to Roderick’s words. But they could be wrong too. He preferred to be cautious.
“There’s something else,” Roderick continued. “They are attempting a new scheme of sectioning off part of their lands and inviting Lowlanders or Englishmen to hunt in their woods, for a price of course. It seems they’ll be building a wall around part of their property.”
Finlay’s head swung around at the news.
“They are doing what?”
“I know,” Roderick said with a sigh. “I do not much like the idea either, bringing foreigners into our parts. But it could work.”
“To where did they move the people?” Finlay asked, his mind racing with the potential consequences. The MacTavish crofters who neighbored theirs were already living on fairly non-arable land.
“Close to the shore,” Roderick replied. “Bear in mind, these are only the crofters that remain, anyway. Many have left, for Glasgow or Edinburgh or even the Americas.”
Finlay sighed. It was the way of things now. Even his own cousin and brother had taken the easy way out, abandoning their home and their people.
“What do you think, Fin?” asked Roderick now, as always ensuring there was no silence to be had between them. “Do you think it’s time we moved more of our—”
“No,” Finlay cut him off. “We will not do the same to our clansmen. These people have supported us as their clan leaders for hundreds of years. We will not repay them by taking anything more away from them. What are the MacTavishes thinking, leaving their people to fend for themselves?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Niall has apparently given up on making any difference at all,” Finlay scoffed. “Rory is a joke, and Kyla—”
He didn’t want to speak of Kyla.
“Kyla does all she can,” Roderick finished.
The McDougalls had turned to raising sheep as well, but only used the land differently when a family left of its own accord. While they charged rent for the land farmed by the crofters, many went months without the ability to make a payment.
Duncan had forgiven much of it for many years, but it was now catching up to the McDougalls, as they were having difficulty affording the staff they hired for their own lands. The harvests were worsening and the potatoes were barely worth picking.
Duncan ensured, however, that his family lived a very conservative lifestyle, not like those of other chieftains he knew who were beginning to think themselves like the fancy lords in London, leaving for weeks on end to enjoy all that the big cities such as Glasgow had to offer.
“We best visit ol’ Mack,” said Roderick as they turned down the path toward the fields that held some of their sheep. “I heard he had a new calf last night and you know he would have had a time of it, but would have been too stubborn to ask for help.”
Mack McDougall, as he was called, was somehow a relation of theirs, although none of the brothers were quite sure in what way. With no children of his own, Mack continued to maintain his land and animals with
