Bruar's Rest

the Glen of Coe, that when the golden eagle soars toward the storm in silence, then it heralds doom!’
    Rachel, aware of this powerful omen, began to whimper. The sisters grasped each other’s hands tightly and began to chant. O’Connor, holding baby Nicholas, had never witnessed this strange behaviour before and sat transfixed by their heathen ways. Megan spoke with quavering tones, while Rachel hummed. If he hadn’t already heard that this was the way of the Glen Coe Macdonalds, then he would have taken them for witches, packed his tent and left there and then.
    ‘What was that all about?’ he asked, when the pair had stopped chanting.
    Rachel with furrowed brow, frightened eyes darting to and fro from corner to corner of the campsite, told him. ‘One day before a terrible snow storm came upon the Macdonalds of Glen Coe, the eagle appeared to a boy, before soaring up towards the black sky. The boy ran home, telling his parents about the great bird of the heavens which had not made a sound. That night, through a raging blizzard, their neighbours the Campbells set on them like wolves, killing all that could not flee, and there were damn few of them that could. Ever since that day, if the golden eagle is witnessed soaring in silence towards a storm, then a terror will befall the Macdonalds.’ Megan nodded vigorously at each statement her sister made.
    O’Connor handed over her son and said to Rachel and Megan, ‘Sure, in this day an’ age a superstition so old would have lost the power.’ Before an answer came, he added that he was certain that the whistling heard earlier was the men coming home, and not a morsel of food cooked for them. Sure enough, almost the minute he finished speaking, the three men of the campsite turned the bend of the dusty road.
    Highlanders also fear such superstitions, and all through that evening and the night that followed, an eerie silence prevailed. It was hard to imagine that the band of songsters from the previous night were the same miserable lot who now wondered what awful event was to befall them. To add to the atmosphere of foreboding, a terrible thunder storm stirred and awakened little Nicholas. With it came a deluge of rain, sagging the tent roofs, then soaking their thin canvas and animal skin homes.
    Much of the rain had penetrated, leaving them damp and exhausted from lack of sleep. Just as the sun pushed through the clouds, the band of tinkers eventually fell into welcome sleep.

     
    For several months the village of Kirriemor saw one young man after another go off to wear the King’s uniform. Bruar and Jimmy spoke of nothing else, annoying the girls and reaching deep into their father’s soul. He had missed a lot of their raising, and didn’t want to lose them as young men just starting on the long road of marriage and fatherhood. He wanted more little babies to cheer his old age and keep the proud name of Stewart alive.
    It was the sound of familiar hooves making tracks towards them that opened all the half-closed doors of the camp. Dr Mackenzie wasn’t alone: the town’s policeman, Sergeant Wilson, sat by his side.
    Never, no matter how kind and compassionate he might appear to be, did travelling people take to a lawman. Far too many had fallen foul of a uniformed devil with the weight of the judiciary behind him. He was met by turned backs and closed tents.
    ‘It’s alright, folks,’ said the doctor reassuringly, ‘I’ve brought the good sergeant. He’s come for a blether, nothing to worry about, you have my word on it.’
    If any man could reassure them, then it was the good doctor. ‘Come away down and join us,’ said Rory, gesturing that they should sit on the old log seats by the fire. ‘Here, Sergeant, this is the most comfy seat. I hope you take no offence, but we can’t abide a lawman poking his nose in our campsite. We don’t break any laws, and honest is our work, so state your business and be off.’
    His sons stood on either side, backing up his request. Within the security and privacy of the tent, Megan huddled close to her sister. Nicholas suckled contentedly on his mother’s breast, unaware his father’s fate was being decided outside round a low burning fire.
    ‘What brings the law among us?’ whispered Megan.
    ‘I haven’t a clue, for we’re as honest as the day’s long. And O’Connor seldom goes to visit and sup with the ploughmen now, so it can’t be him.’
    Rachel’s answer only made her more curious.
    With