He came in and shook hands, deposited his solid person in a suitably solid “grandfather chair,” and beamed cheerfully at Macdonald.
“You’re right cosy here, Mr. Macdonald, and young Shearling’s doing well by the land, by gum he is: them meadows are in better heart than I’ve seen them for years. Well, I thought we might as well have a crack while you’re here. You’ll know that Jock and me have done a bit o’ business, fair exchange, no robbery, as they say.”
“Yes. Jock told me and I’m all in favour of the arrangement,” replied Macdonald. “Seems sound common sense all round.”
“Aye, ’tis that: well, I’m glad you’re satisfied, seeing you’re gaffer,” beamed Mr. Brough. “You can guess how ’tis with me, what with labour costs these days. If I send a chap up twice a day to High Garth to fodder the beasts in the shippon—well, he takes his time over it and that’s quite a step from my place. Reckon it cost me more in labour than was reasonable, so I gave up wintering beasts inside there, and just kept them Aberdeen Angus out at pasture. Even so, ’tis better for someone to look them over, and yon Jock’s got sense, by gum he has.”
Mr. Brough accepted a proffered cigarette and went on: “Then there’s this to ’t, Mr. Macdonald, and you being a policeman you’ll see what I’m getting at. ’Tis better for someone to keep an eye on the place: there’s gear and that in the barn and if ’tis known that none ever go nigh the place, ’tis asking for trouble. Why, there’s been thefts of stock, too, on some fell pastures, as you know full well.”
“Yes. I hadn’t forgotten,” agreed Macdonald. “I think it’s a very sound idea for Jock to go along to High Garth twice a day—and for people to know that he’s keeping an eye on the place. Now I’m very glad you came in, Mr. Brough. I was wanting to talk to you: I’d been wondering about High Garth. Do you think young Borwick will ever come back there to farm?”
Matt Brough replied as Jock had done. “Not him,” and paused for a moment: then he added, “I know I’m safe in talking to you, Mr. Macdonald. You won’t go gossiping and you must have heard a mort o’ queer stories in your time. Young Borwick’s no good: he’s a real bad ’un if what’s said is true.”
“What is said?” asked Macdonald.
“You mind Mr. Staple? Aye, he’s a good man is Staple. He was in Leverstone a year or so ago, he had business at the cattle market. He saw Sam Borwick, being run in by the police: some matter of stealing a lorry and that. He was discharged that time, but Mr. Staple heard he’d got into bad company when he was demobilised after the war and he’d been sentenced for thieving more than once. A real bad lot he’s turned out and I reckon he’ll never turn to honest work on the land. And that holding of Borwick’s, that’s going to take some work before a man can earn ’s living there, by gum, it is.”
Macdonald nodded. “It’s going to take a lot of very hard work, Mr. Brough, and the house must be in a sorry state.”
“ ’Tis that, and I’ve been thinking about that house,” added the farmer. “When old Nat Borwick and his missis left High Garth, they didn’t move all their gear out: no room for that sized furniture in the little place they’ve lived in since. They just left the big pieces as they were and they’d got some nice bits—dower chests, court cupboards, old carved dressers and suchlike, which have been there hundreds of years. Borwicks farmed that land nearly three hundred years. Well, I’m wondering how much of the good stuff is left in that house now.”
Macdonald pondered. “It’d have been the heck of a job to move it out,” he said. “There’s no road up to the house: you couldn’t take a van across the fell.”
“No one’d be fool enough to try, but you can take a tractor-trailer oufit along easy enow, and for that matter some of those heavy lorries they shift rocks in where they’re digging the pipe line over Bowland—go over anything they will.”
“So that’s what’s in your mind,” said Macdonald.
“Well, ’tis and ’tisn’t. They’ve got some rough chaps up there, I do know that. The contractors put up huts for the gangers to sleep and eat in, run a canteen, and give ’em proper hot meals. They have to, the men’d never stay else, and there’s trouble enough, even so, keeping them on the job, for that’s right heavy work. I doubt if many of they chaps bother to come tramping over the fell after a day’s work to see what they can lift when they strike a steading. No, to put it quite plain, I wondered if Sam Borwick had been home to see what he could make off with. He knows what’s there, and reckon he could raise some brass on some of the old chests and so forth.”
“It’s a possibility,” said Macdonald, “but transport would be his chief trouble.”
“Aye. I thought it out like this: if so be Sam was cunning enough to have got himself taken on as a ganger with the pipe-line contractors, ’twouldn’t have been ower difficult for him to’ve borrowed one o’ those five-ton lorries one night, driven across to High Garth and got some of the good stuff shifted to a road and transferred to a van. Tis no’ but an idea, but I’ve thought of it, many a time.”
“It’s possible enough,” agreed Macdonald. “If he ever thought of it, he’s
