God's Highlander by E. V. Thompson

the hills of the island where he had lived as a boy. The people here were not very different.
    â€˜It will be worse along the ridge than down here. Either place, it’s better to be listening to it from beneath a good solid roof. Will you seat yourself?’
    As Wyatt took the recently vacated stool, Eneas Ross asked: ‘Was your business in Corpach with the factor?’
    â€˜It was.’
    One of the two women standing at the rear of the smoke-filled room snorted derisively. Wyatt believed it to be the dark-haired girl.
    As Wyatt looked at each of the men seated about the fire, Eneas Ross said: ‘These are my sons – eight of them. A chief would have been proud to have such clansmen on his land in the old days. Those times are past, Preacher. Now it seems we’re taking up land the factor would rather see rented out as a sheep-walk.’

    His statement brought nods and grunts of agreement from the young men about the fire, but Eneas Ross was speaking again.
    â€˜The wind will have put a chill in your bones. Mairi, bring out the “water of life” for the preacher. Mairi is my daughter,’ Eneas Ross added as the dark-haired girl moved to a gloomy corner of the room. ‘She’s the only lass in fourteen births. Four sons survived for only a few days. Another was drowned in the loch as a lad. The other lass is Tibbie.’ He pointed through the smoke. Forced back down the ‘chimney’ by the wind, it was now thicker than ever. ‘She’s a Cameron from above Loch Leven, and married to my oldest boy, Ian.’
    Mairi Ross appeared at Wyatt’s side. Handing him a battered pewter mug, she commenced to half-fill it with whisky poured from a large earthenware jar. Then she went around the circle of her brothers pouring drinks for them into wooden cups. Wyatt realised that, as a guest, he had been given the family’s best drinking-vessel.
    â€˜Your health, Preacher.’ Eneas Ross raised his cup in a simple toast.
    â€˜God’s blessing on you and yours.’
    The strength of the whisky reached Wyatt’s nose long before it touched his lips, and when he swallowed it drove the breath from his throat. Twice he tried to speak, but not until the third attempt did a voice that was not recognisable as his own say: ‘I haven’t tasted whisky like this since I left the Isles. Where’s it made?’
    Knowing grins about the fire gave Wyatt his answer, but Eneas Ross said: ‘It was a gift, given in return for a young pig. It isn’t done to question another man’s generosity.’
    Wyatt took Eneas Ross’s point and made no further mention of the source of the illicitly distilled whisky during his chat with the men of the Ross family.
    Declining a second drink, Wyatt explained that he wanted to speak to Lachlan Munro before returning home.
    â€˜You know where the Munros are?’ It was the first time Mairi Ross had spoken to Wyatt since his arrival.
    â€˜They’ve built a lean-to on the other side of the mountain. Lachlan isn’t at all well. I want to tell him I’ve persuaded John Garrett to give the family a cot.’
    â€˜You’ve persuaded Lord Kilmalie’s factor to give a cot to a Highlander?’ Eneas Ross’s question broke the incredulous silence that fell upon the men about the fire at Wyatt’s words.

    â€˜A cot and a piece of land. Garrett’s also agreed to give Lachlan two young sows by way of compensation for what he’s lost. All he needs now is a cow to provide milk for that young family of his.’
    Eneas Ross’s glance moved around the fire and it was answered with a nod from each son.
    â€˜We’ll loan him a milk-cow until he’s raised a crop or two and has money to spend.’
    Wyatt beamed about him. ‘Eneas, I believe the Lord has guided my footsteps this way today – ay, and sent a storm to drive me to your home. God bless you all.’
    â€˜If I