High on a Mountain Read Online Free Page B

dread.
    Cambeuls… It’s the Cambeuls…
    She leaned against the rock wall of the
cottage trembling, her breaths shallow and panting, her hands
twisting and wrapping the folds of her airisaid around her
fingers as she had twisted the curls of Granda’s beard on that
night so long ago. When the soul-wrenching images faded, leaving
her weak and shaken, she struggled to regain control of herself, to
straighten her shoulders under their habitual burden of guilt and
fear.
    She smoothed her clothing and rubbed her
sweaty palms dry on it. She stood, stepped away from the wall and
forced herself take deep breaths until her trembling lessened. She
listened to make sure they were not still talking about her.
    “If you’ll feed the hens, I’ll deal with that
milk,” her mother said.
    Mùirne took another deep breath and went
inside to get her bread and cheese.
    ____________
     
    Ailean left the trail and ran to head off the
stubborn steer for the fourth time that morning. It wanted to
return to its home range, but he hazed it back to the herd. The
other cattle had adjusted to life on the trail during the first
week, but this steer was still restless and hard to handle.
    Ailean had worked the cattle drive each
autumn since he was thirteen. He was experienced handling cattle
and sometimes knew what they would likely do before they even knew
it themselves. He walked alongside the steer and crooned to it to
calm and settle it, his voice mellow and rich. After a time, the
steer forgot its intention to leave the herd, pacified by the sound
of Ailean’s voice.
    The cattle were not the only ones who enjoyed
listening to him. His singing ability was known and appreciated
throughout the clan. The elderly song leader at church had trained
Ailean to take his place. Now, Ailean led the psalm singing on
Sunday mornings, singing the presenting line which the congregation
repeated in song after him.
    Once the steer was content to move along with
the other cattle, Ailean dropped back to walk behind the herd with
his older brother, Coinneach, and Raghnall MacLachlainn, still
humming and occasionally thumping a rump with his walking stick
when a steer stopped to graze too long.
    “Well, little brother,” Coinneach said. “It’s
too bad your voice doesn’t have the same powerful effect on lasses.
If you were as masterful with them as you are with cattle—”
    “I’m as good as you are,” Ailean
interrupted.
    “Oh, are you now. I was married by the time I
was your age, and you have no one even looking at you with a
sideways glance,” Coinneach goaded. “Maybe you’re just too big and
you scare them away.”
    Raghnall chuckled as Ailean narrowed his eyes
and gave Coinneach a cutting look.
    Ailean walked in silence, wondering if
Coinneach’s words had merit. It was true he was big. He stood
almost a head taller than his brother and father and neighbors who
were making the cattle drive together. Even though he was the best
swordsman on the croft during the training sessions, and even
though he knew he was the best camanachd player in the clan,
at times his size made him feel awkward and out-of-place like an
untrained man trying to dance a Highland fling.
    He thought of a reply. “No, brother, you were
too dumb to avoid getting cornered and caught. I, on the other
hand, am too smart to succumb to female wiles. Besides, there are
things I want to do before I get myself entangled with a
woman.”
    Raghnall laughed. “I love these drives. Being
with the two of you for a few weeks is more amusement than I get
the rest of the year.”
    Ailean saw his father had stopped and stood
to the side of the herd as it passed, waiting for his sons to reach
him. When they drew near, Aodh said, “Ailean, I think you need to
walk up by the lead steer. Looks like he may be wanting to balk
again.”
    “All right, Da.” Ailean trotted to the front
of the herd.
    He walked alongside the lead steer, singing
and enjoying the scenery as the trail neared Loch