whenever she remembered her sister. She could hear sobs and groans all around her. She opened her eyes to see people swaying and shaking, clapping their hands and reaching out their arms. Some fell insensible to the ground as if in a faint while others spoke in tongues, uttering words that made no sense to her.
‘No matter how mired you are in sin, reach out your foul, black leprous hand and God will receive you.’
Now more folk were groaning, swooning and writhing on the ground. I’m a true believer, she thought, so why is the Holy Spirit not entering me? She stood, a lonely observer, excluded from the ecstasy of those whom the Lord had chosen, those who could see beyond the vale of tears towards the joys of Heaven.
The minister had finished circling the crowds. He sat on horseback still, his hands raised as the congregation bowed their heads in prayer. Did that mean that the service would soon be over? What about Murdo among the horses? Did he realise?
She slipped away, creeping around the back of the crowd and then running hard as she neared the trees. As she suspected Murdo was there with several other young men riding bareback on the galloping horses, crouched low over their necks. She smiled when she saw that her brother had chosen the dappled mare.
‘Hurry and tie them up again. The service is finishing’.
They slowed down and jumped off, laughing. Men and horses tossed their heads. She knew most of the young men but one of the riders was a stranger. He didn’t rush like the others but sat proudly, sinewy thighs pressed against the horse’s flanks, fingers plaited through its mane. So entwined were horse and rider that they seemed like one creature. He whispered to the animal, stroking its ears. Then he turned and smiled at her. It was as if a rainbow had suddenly appeared, a dazzling arc across the sky. He slithered off his mount in a swoop of limbs and rubbed his face against the horse’s cheek. How she envied that dumb beast. For once, she who was never lost for words found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. All was confusion as they rushed to calm the animals and tie them up again.
‘Their owners will wonder why they’re so tired and sweaty,’ the fair young man said grinning.
Before she could answer they were all waving and running off and she was left as breathless as the horses.
CHAPTER 8
Skeabost, Isle of Skye, early 1840s
‘That was a near escape.’ said Murdo later on.
Màiri smiled. ‘You all got safely away then? That tall young man, I’ve never seen him before. Is he from round here?’
‘Ah, you mean Anndra’.
‘That’s an unusual name.’
‘Aye. He’s from the south of the island. His family were thrown off their land.’
‘And where does he stay now?’
Murdo grinned, ‘So many questions. Why do all young women want to know about him? He’s in Portree at the moment, living on a poor bit of land and doing some fishing.’
Her thoughts were already flying far off like migrating swallows. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t have any money or land. He could live here, on their croft. They would manage, even if they had a nest full of children. That would be a small price to pay for having him in her bed, warming her body inside and out.
Murdo laughed, ‘You should see your face’.
‘How do you mean?’ She frowned.
‘Standing there licking your lips and your eyes all dreamy like a dog having its belly rubbed. I’m in your debt, so I’ll see what more I can find out. But I imagine he’s got a sweetheart already.’
She bristled at the edge of pity in his voice, ‘I was just curious.’
A few nights later she heard a thud outside, followed by muttered swearing. She hurried out to find her brother, who hadtripped over in the dark. He was swaying on his feet and she hustled him away from the house towards the well.
‘We can’t have Mamma seeing you in that state,’ she hissed. ‘Walk up and down while I get you some water to drink.’ She lowered
‘No matter how mired you are in sin, reach out your foul, black leprous hand and God will receive you.’
Now more folk were groaning, swooning and writhing on the ground. I’m a true believer, she thought, so why is the Holy Spirit not entering me? She stood, a lonely observer, excluded from the ecstasy of those whom the Lord had chosen, those who could see beyond the vale of tears towards the joys of Heaven.
The minister had finished circling the crowds. He sat on horseback still, his hands raised as the congregation bowed their heads in prayer. Did that mean that the service would soon be over? What about Murdo among the horses? Did he realise?
She slipped away, creeping around the back of the crowd and then running hard as she neared the trees. As she suspected Murdo was there with several other young men riding bareback on the galloping horses, crouched low over their necks. She smiled when she saw that her brother had chosen the dappled mare.
‘Hurry and tie them up again. The service is finishing’.
They slowed down and jumped off, laughing. Men and horses tossed their heads. She knew most of the young men but one of the riders was a stranger. He didn’t rush like the others but sat proudly, sinewy thighs pressed against the horse’s flanks, fingers plaited through its mane. So entwined were horse and rider that they seemed like one creature. He whispered to the animal, stroking its ears. Then he turned and smiled at her. It was as if a rainbow had suddenly appeared, a dazzling arc across the sky. He slithered off his mount in a swoop of limbs and rubbed his face against the horse’s cheek. How she envied that dumb beast. For once, she who was never lost for words found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. All was confusion as they rushed to calm the animals and tie them up again.
‘Their owners will wonder why they’re so tired and sweaty,’ the fair young man said grinning.
Before she could answer they were all waving and running off and she was left as breathless as the horses.
CHAPTER 8
Skeabost, Isle of Skye, early 1840s
‘That was a near escape.’ said Murdo later on.
Màiri smiled. ‘You all got safely away then? That tall young man, I’ve never seen him before. Is he from round here?’
‘Ah, you mean Anndra’.
‘That’s an unusual name.’
‘Aye. He’s from the south of the island. His family were thrown off their land.’
‘And where does he stay now?’
Murdo grinned, ‘So many questions. Why do all young women want to know about him? He’s in Portree at the moment, living on a poor bit of land and doing some fishing.’
Her thoughts were already flying far off like migrating swallows. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t have any money or land. He could live here, on their croft. They would manage, even if they had a nest full of children. That would be a small price to pay for having him in her bed, warming her body inside and out.
Murdo laughed, ‘You should see your face’.
‘How do you mean?’ She frowned.
‘Standing there licking your lips and your eyes all dreamy like a dog having its belly rubbed. I’m in your debt, so I’ll see what more I can find out. But I imagine he’s got a sweetheart already.’
She bristled at the edge of pity in his voice, ‘I was just curious.’
A few nights later she heard a thud outside, followed by muttered swearing. She hurried out to find her brother, who hadtripped over in the dark. He was swaying on his feet and she hustled him away from the house towards the well.
‘We can’t have Mamma seeing you in that state,’ she hissed. ‘Walk up and down while I get you some water to drink.’ She lowered
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