Oatcakes and Courage Read Online Free Page B

“You did not have to…”
    â€œI told you that I just needed you to get me on the ship, Ian. I did not expect you to put yourself into debt for me.” Pride made her eyes spark.
    â€œBut I would have just the same,” Ian said, his eyes dropping to the ground.
    His quiet testament melted Anne’s heart. “Oh, Ian. You are such a dear friend.” She threw her arms about his neck in a quick hug.
    He put his hands on her arms and pushed her gently away, flushing bright red. “I feared the mate was going to give us some trouble.”
    Anne grinned. “He reminded me of Father. A lot of bluster. But when faced with real authority, he’d back down every time. That’s why I mentioned speaking to the captain. He would not want to get on the wrong side of the master.”
    Ian laughed. “Clever lass.” He adjusted the bags on his shoulder. “Well, we’d better find a place to settle for the night.”
    Anne looked up the beach, toward the grove that the mate had indicated earlier. Makeshift tents and campfires could be seen among the trees.
    â€œWe are not prepared to camp out,” Ian murmured. “We’ve naught to put over us in case the weather turns foul again.” He looked heavenward. “And it looks like it could. Look at those clouds rolling in.”
    Anne watched the iron-gray, billowing clouds pass overhead. “I don’t think we’ll find a place in Ullapool, though. With the Hector sailing on the morrow, the town will be full. And I wouldn’t want to be there if that rider should return. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
    Ian shrugged, and they plodded up to the treeline. The evergreens were bent from eons of battering west winds. Like tired old fishermen, their branches were gnarled, arthritic limbs.
    Little groups of campers huddled under the meagre protection of these twisted guardians of the loch. There were families with small children as well as older couples and singlemen. As Ian and Anne made their way, searching for a spot to call their own, many people raised a hand or doffed a hat in greeting. A few gazed at them warily.
    The trees grew thicker and less spindly as they ventured further into the grove. At last they came to a place that was a little private, under an ancient pine. The blanket of needles acted as a spongy mattress. Without a word spoken, Ian and Anne set their belongings at the trunk of the tree and sat down to rest, their backs against the packs.
    After a little while, Ian said, “I’m as hungry as a wolf. What have we left to eat?”
    Anne smiled. “Always thinking of your stomach, you are.”
    They rummaged through the packs and sorted through what food they had. Saving some oatcakes for breakfast, they finished off the bread, cheese, and apple tarts.
    Ian patted his stomach and sighed. He flopped onto his back on the pine needles. “This is not so bad.”
    â€œAye. So far.”
    â€œJust think, Anne. I’ll be able to own land. Mr. Ross says this New World is a paradise. Rich land, plenty of game and fish. Mr. Ross says that any man willing to work will be successful. And I’m not afraid of work!”
    â€œIt almost sounds too good to be true.”
    â€œBut he’s seen it with his own eyes. He knows what he’s talking about. And just think. I’ll be able to wear my tartan! Won’t that be grand?”
    Anne smiled wanly at Ian’s enthusiasm. She was exhausted. Her feet burned where the blisters had broken and bled, and her soles ached as if Ian had hammered on them all day at his anvil. The enormity of what she had done – running away, disgracing her father, and putting Ian’s life in danger – settled over her shoulders like a fifty-pound shawl. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
    Ian noticed that Anne had become very quiet. He sat up and peered at her in the shadowy gloom.
    â€œLet’s have a look at those