Bruar's Rest

Bruar Stewart and forgot the eggs?’
    ‘I have not! What a bitch. I swear, Rachel, the devil himself forged your tongue. Mammy, this she-cat is saying evil things! Anyway you’re just a jealous cow—I bet there’s not a male within a hundred miles who’d look twice at that pale lifeless face.’
    Rachel grabbed at her young sister, screaming that she’d rather live in a rat-infested dungeon than take off at an unearthly hour of the morning to fornicate with a man.
    Shaking her head at the disgraceful conduct of her girls, Annie scolded them. ‘Stop that, the both of you. Rachel, fetch water for tea. Megan, I hope the heart’s in the fire, you’ve been gone the best part of an hour. I heard you whispering on that Stewart lad, I hope there has been no nonsense. I’m in no mood for you two fighting neither, so put an end to it or I’ll switch the pair of you.’
    Annie, still weak, tried hard to stretch her bones and rise from the tent, but the pain in her body turned her stiff instead. She winced at the aches now passing like waves throughout her body; only forty years had she been on the earth, yet she felt so very old. Megan had always been a step ahead of her clutches, uncontrollable. By the age of four she’d sat on a horse’s back; Annie smiled through her pain, remembering how her man had made longer reins for the little arms to reach. ‘She was taking the deer off the hill with him by the age of six. Now the child is growing up and will soon be a wife; she’s chosen a man already, by the sounds of it.’ A look at the girl’s legs also brought a smile. ‘It wasn’t all that long ago two twiglets carried her growing frame in great leaps, and now they are so pretty and shapely. Yes, she’ll be a woman soon, and thank God, because I won’t be around to help her. Better that she’s coping. Rachel has always been steady, I’ll not have any problems worrying about her. Old before her time, never enjoyed the joy of youth, my plain Jane.’
    Megan forgot the petty argument with her sister; she was more worried that their mother was in pain. She lied that there wasn’t a single pheasant egg to be seen, saying ‘The bloody birds are becoming more cunning, it’s harder to seek out their nests,’ then went on to blame hedgehogs.
    ‘Gosh, mammy, are those bones of yours tightening again? I’ll do the chores today if you want another hour or two in bed. Doctor Mackenzie will come if I fetch him,’ she said, putting an arm around her mother. More quietly, she whispered, ‘Mother of mine, Bruar is far too much the gent to take my maidenhead, even though I would offer it on a plate, so don’t fret yourself on that. I’ll keep it a while yet.’
    Annie loved both her daughters, but without a father, controlling them was no easy task, especially Megan. She patted her wayward daughter gently on the hand and said, ‘That’s not necessary, pet, I’ll be fine after a cup of hot sweet tea.’ She stroked her face and added, ‘I know you, lassie, and there’s a rising in that woman-to-be body, yet with the Stewart I feel you will be sensible. And Rachel, well, she was only looking out for her wee sister.’
    Bruar walked over and dropped the large bundle of firewood at their camp, putting light to their fire before going over to his own camp and doing the same.
    Annie thanked him. ‘You are a good boy, and I hope I can trust my lassie in your hands.’ He lifted a hand in reassurance that Megan would be safe, before going into his own camp to waken his father and brother.
    Rory, the worse for supping forbidden liquid the night before, half-opened his eyes at the opening of his tent door as the sun’s rays entered and brought life to a million particles of dust. He called to Bruar, ‘have you any tea laddie?’ Then added that he’d heard that Macdonald lassie hooting on him, further remarking that she’d a flame in her belly wanting on a man. ‘You’d do well to keep a grip on yourself, or that wee fire demon will have you roped and branded.’ Bruar hushed him. ‘She is the one I have chosen, and nothing you say to bring her down will change things.’
    His father grunted as he pushed his arms into a damp jacket. Then, muttering to himself in a low gruff voice he wandered off to the forest. He’d wash in the burn, and probably find a secluded spot to do what he’d been doing a lot of lately—bringing up the green contents of his gut.
    Within an hour all the camp dwellers were up and