Sookin' Berries Page 7

  What a shock this was to a man with an elderly wife and child to provide for. He knew any amount of pleading to this heartless creature would fall on deaf ears. He’d seen that same face on a thousand landowners and factors, and heard the same venom. It would be devastating news for Annie and Izzy, but when a man keeps a stone for a heart, reasoning is futile.

  He turned and walked back down the road, his good spirits dispersed to the wind as the thumping of the horse’s hooves on the gravel path faded with its rider. As he walked the weary way back through the woods, Izzy, who was gathering a variety of wild mushrooms, met him. Words between them weren’t necessary; he’d a hang-dog look, a ‘can’t stay here’ stare.

  ‘Grandaddy,’ she said softly, ‘is Mr Murray dead?’

  ‘No, lassie, he’s out of the country’

  ‘Who said we have to leave?’ She knew the procedure, had witnessed it many times. Many times she’d seen his hunched shoulders, bonnet scrunched in his fist. She knew he’d been rejected. ‘Is there a new factor? I’ll go and speak with him and tell him just what a fine worker you are.’

  ‘I don’t know what manner of creature he is, but I’d guess his mother forgot to take the silver spoon from his mouth. He’s a bad un, lassie. And you will not approach such a man. Come help me break the news to Grandmammy.’

  There was a cosy fire at the tent mouth, Jenny the mare was tethered to a gnarled oak tree, the kettle was hissing its welcome from the spout to say that tea would soon be ready. It was such a homely sight neither wanted to tell Annie the bad news. But she too saw the obvious ‘no welcome’ sign on their faces.

  ‘He’s passed on then, Mr Murray. Who’s the new owner?’ she asked in a matter-of-fact manner, resigned to her fate of weary winter-travelling ahead. ‘How long do we have before we have to move on?’

  ‘No time at all, wife. And no, the master isn’t finished, but I sure wish his stand-in factor was. He’s a right brute, and I’ve met enough in my time to be ready to go when ordered.’

  ‘God help us then, Wullie, because when I was filling the kettle at the burnside a lip of ice was forming among the reeds. Snow will be here, and well before we get any distance away. It’s fine if the onslaught of winter is mild, but in these parts, as you well know, she burls a hardy broom.’

  Izzy loved her adopted parents more than anything in the world, and the thought of them suffering under a blanket of snow, or worse still, caught in a snowdrift, was too much for her to bear. Turning on her heels she bounded off towards the big house, with cries that she should not approach the stranger ringing in her ears. Maybe if she spoke to the man, reasoned with him, then he’d change his mind and let them stay.

  As she picked up her feet and bounded on, tears of concern for Wullie and Annie filled her eyes and dimmed her vision. Unable to avoid a fence-post, down she went, gravel tearing into her knee. ‘Ouch,’ she screamed, examining the bloodied wound, ‘the last thing I needed was this.’

  To stem the blood loss she tore a strip of cotton from the hem of her already tattered dress and bound the knee. For a while it was too painful to stand on, and sitting quietly nursing her injury she was aware of rustling in the nearby undergrowth. Curious to see who or what it was, she ignored the trickle of blood and got up to investigate.

  It didn’t take long for her to see a young vixen snared tightly, held secure between two silver birch trees. The captive animal wasn’t moving. She knew that when foxes run into snare wire they usually try to struggle free, but being the cleverest of forest creatures, when they realise the futility of such an attempt, they become resigned to their fate, and sit quietly waiting for death. If the maker of the snare is conscientious he will check them every day, but if not then death comes very cruelly and painfully slowly. This little vixen seemed to have given up the struggle, but when she saw Izzy approach, she pulled frantically, tightening the noose. Her eyes bulged and she began gasping for air.

  Forgetting her painful wound, Izzy dropped to her knees, moving closer to the animal. ‘There now, poor wee thing, I mean you no harm. Stay very still and I’ll soon have that horrible wire loose.’

  The fox knew by Izzy’s soothing tone she’d not come as an enemy, and stopped straining at the wire. On a bed of red oak leaves she rested her exhausted body and allowed Izzy to prise open the snare. The plucky vixen felt the wire release its death grip and wasted no time. She wriggled free, and in a flash of red fur had gone, leaving her rescuer with an overwhelming sense of well being and of being at one with nature.

  This didn’t last, however, as behind her an angry voice boomed, ‘What the hell are you up to?’

  Terrified, she scrambled from the undergrowth, stood up on two wobbling legs and leant back unsteadily against a tree trunk. ‘I was looking for mushrooms, sir.’

  ‘Are you aware that you are trespassing?’ He cast a disapproving glance at her torn dress and bleeding knee. A brisk wind was removing the last autumn leaves which pattered down around her, adding a will o’ the wisp appearance to the frightened child.

  ‘Are you the gamekeeper’s girl?’ he asked, lifting her elfin chin with the handle of his leather whip.

  ‘I’m a tinker lass who wants to speak to Mr Murray’s man.’

  ‘Oh you are, are you? Well, filthy vermin child, talk away!’

  All courage or any sense of affinity with the earth drained from her thin body and disppeared into the soil beneath her feet. She was already walking back the way she had come. There was no mystery – this was the beast who’d whipped her granddaddy, and who without a doubt would do the same to her.

  ‘Wait a minute, I’m not finished with you.’ With the whip, which seemed like an extension to his arm, he parted the low-lying bushes. ‘I wouldn’t believe a single word that came from a tinker’s mouth. What were you up to, slinking in there?’

  His breeches were far too tight, and as he leaned down to look, Izzy almost forgot her fear and laughed loudly at the size of his buttocks. When he discovered the opened snare, all hell was let loose. ‘I’ll skin you alive for this!’ he cried.

  His shouts and threats were fading in the distance, as Izzy ran faster than she’d ever done before into the arms of Annie. All the packing was finished. Jenny, the mare, was hitched onto the small cart.

  ‘Lassie, I hope you didn’t meet the boss man,’ Wullie said, leading Jenny onto the track.

  ‘Well, Grandaddy, I think I did!’

  Annie lost her head on seeing the line of deep red blood congealed on Izzy’s leg and thought the worst. ‘He’s attacked our wee lassie! I’ll find the pig and sink a wild curse onto his skull for hurting my precious!’ A burnt stick discarded from the campfire was retrieved, each cardigan sleeve rolled over the elbow, and off she went to seek the beast of Ochtertyre.

  ‘Woman,’ called Wullie, running after her, ‘don’t do anything silly.’

  Izzy chased after them both, explaining that her cut knee had nothing to do with the boss man, but before the three of them had made any ground towards the big house, the man himself appeared. He was sporting a fine rifle, with two more marksmen on either side, and he met them head on.

  ‘Now, sir, we seem to have got ourselves tangled up in a web of misunderstandings. Can you not see your way to changing your mind and letting us stay? I can do any amount of tasks.’ Wullie felt there should be some way of reasoning with the man.

  He quickly removed his bonnet, held it tightly in his fist, and began to reel off the crafts and skills he had for working on a shooting estate. Izzy and Annie watched the twitching, sneering face of the brute who was masquerading as a fine gentleman.

  ‘Come away from this place, man. Sure, that buttock-faced chap has no intentions of letting us stay. He’s toying with us.’ Annie was a proud woman and was not about to bow her head for anyone, especially this broad-shouldered fellow with his fiery red eyes, puffed cheekbones and lip adorned with a thin moustache.

  ‘Right, lads,’ was all the reply Wullie got. ‘Set fire to the tent,
I’ll shoot the horse!’

  Annie screamed. ‘The tent’s all packed up, so no need to fire anything!’ She tried to stop the man striding towards their only means of transport, but he was already getting his rifle ready to shoot. ‘Oh my goodness, surely not!’

  She, Izzy and Wullie knew they would get nowhere without Jenny, and ran forward, pleading and begging with the factor not to kill the horse. He was already round the bend in the track road where the unsuspecting Jenny munched at the verge, eyes half-closed and oblivious to the events unfolding. The factor lifted the rifle to aim, his henchmen pulling back the family of terrified onlookers.

  Then, just as his finger pulled the trigger, the strangest thing happened. Out of the undergrowth came a flash of red fur, right into the sights of the murder weapon. The gun shot wildly up into the heavens as the boss man fell back into the path, banging his head on a big round boulder. Immediately his henchmen rushed to his aid, while Willie, Annie and Izzy tore off down the track with Jenny almost in full gallop.

  ‘Grandaddy, did you see the fox?’

  ‘Aye, lassie, that I did. I’ve never in all my born days seen such a thing. Do you think it was in the undergrowth and thought the gun was meant for him?’

  ‘No, I think it was helping us!’ Izzy didn’t tell her granddad she’d opened a snare and deliberately let the animal go free. He’d not be too pleased, and would have blamed that for their sudden departure from their wintering ground. Anyway, more pressing matters lay ahead – where they were to stay now, and how to survive.

  They’d gone about four miles along the ever-bending track, when behind them the sound of horses’ hooves could be heard, growing louder as it got nearer. ‘Jenny, over lass,’ said Wullie, and he guided his mare off the track just in time to avoid a light carriage careering towards them.

  It was pulled by a high-necked stallion, black as night, showing the whites of its eyes and snorting like a spooked dragon. ‘Watch out there!’ screamed a woman who was holding desperately onto the reins for dear life. ‘I can’t stop, he’s terrified, mind out!’

  Unable to stop the horse themselves, they watched helplessly as it galloped down the hill.

  Halfway down, the road bent slightly, and for the second time that day they witnessed an unexplained phenomenon. Almost as if in flight, the same fox appeared out of the bushes and tore into the path of the runaway horse. It reared up on its hind legs, neighing madly and giving the woman just enough time to control it and halt its deadly ride. Two minutes more, and both horse and buggy would have collided with a fallen tree further down the way.

  That was when Izzy confessed about her escapade of freeing the fox. ‘It came to help us, Granddaddy, honest! You’ve said it yourself, Grandmother – “one good turn deserves another!”’

  Once the woman had calmed herself, she alighted from her buggy and spoke to the tinkers. ‘Did any of you kind people see the red fox?’

  ‘We all saw it, ma’am,’ answered Wullie, ‘but in all my life living close to Mother Earth, I can say in all honesty that never have I seen such a thing. Today we saw this twice. Earlier it saved our Jenny over there.’ Willie pointed to the old mare, already being approached by the handsome stallion which was trying to nibble from her nose bag. ‘Under threat of death from a senseless gent too fond of his own voice, a fox put itself in the line of fire and, well, you might think me daft, but it looked as if the sly thing was saving our horse from the gun.’

  ‘And your life too, Missus!’ shouted breathless Izzy.

  ‘The countryside and its inhabitants are a law unto themselves. I have always had the greatest respect for my fellow-creatures.’

  The woman, who was middle-aged, wearing a green velvet coat with bonnet to match, then asked them why they were still on the road. She added, ‘My knowledge of you people is that, living in a tent, all your winter roots must be down before first snowfall. I saw ice in the pond today – surely you’re late wintering.’

  Wullie looked at Annie and Izzy, but it was the youngster who spoke first. ‘My granddad always winter works for Mr Murray. We’ve been told by a right brute of a man that our kind isn’t welcome there now. It seems the master is away.’

  ‘Yes, as an officer with the army in Africa. It is a terrible business, the Boer War, my husband is away too. That nasty piece of work you speak of is the honourable Mr Percy Wotheringham, nephew to the laird. When he returns next summer he’ll be ever so angry with him. Many neighbours have complained about his behaviour. Where are you going to go?’ She seemed quite concerned, and added that tinkers were worth their weight in gold, given all their knowledge of horses and the land.

  Wullie knew, however, they had several more miles to travel before camping down for the night. He’d no idea where they’d find a welcome, one that offered work, so he replied vaguely, thanking the lady for her kind words. Izzy and Annie did the same.

  Watching them trudge off down the track, heads bent, the lady suddenly had an idea, and called after them to wait. ‘You can live in the forest on my land.’

  Wullie, thinking the woman was a good-hearted soul who didn’t wish to see them wander aimlessly, replied, ‘It’s kind of you, mistress, but I’m a proud man. My wife and Izzy are not beggars. We think you’re a nice lady, but don’t give us shelter if there is no work for us.’

  ‘With half my workforce fighting in the war, there’s plenty of chores needing done. The fences are in a dreadful state, my shepherd will need extra hands at the lambing and there’s wool needs to be bagged, rabbits controlled and this big horse is too large for me to control. Do you wish me to continue?’ She smiled and held out her gloved hand. ‘Lady Culzean at your service,’ she said politely.

  Annie smiled at Wullie, whose head was nodding vigorously. ‘We shall be very pleased to take up your offer, mistress.’ Immense relief spread across his wrinkled brow as they walked back with the lady, who they later discovered was a rich landowner. She owned the neighbouring estate to that of Mr Murray.

  Happily they followed her into a nice enclosure in a patch of woodland, from where the spires of her stately home could clearly be seen. She helped them unroll their canvas abode, and even helped erect the tent.

  The old tent, however, had seen better days, and when she saw the gaping holes in its sides she offered them a vacant cottage next door to the shepherd, a Mr Dougie Gardiner.

  Life for the family from that day took on a whole new meaning. Lady Culzean became not just an employer but a dear friend. Sadly, Annie took a stroke that winter and was unable to continue her wandering ways. They never went back on the road again.

  Izzy grew strong and learned the ways of livestock and moorland management, loving every minute of it. Some days she’d fill a flask of tea, pack a few sandwiches and take off. She knew every nook and cranny of the estate. Lady Culzean, who had no family, sent her to university, and from there she entered into a life of veterinary practice.

  She spent her life travelling the world studying the many varieties of wildlife, from lions in the Serengeti desert to poisonous snakes in the Amazonian swamps.

  After Wullie and Annie passed away, she seldom found the time to go home to Culzean, but when she did, locals spoke fondly of the tall woman who spoke to foxes.

  8

  BULLIES

  Bullies were everywhere when I was a child. Sometimes they waited for me outside school, sometimes inside. I was terrified. However as I grew older I began to look upon them not so much as something to be frightened of but as a pesky problem. If approached properly such problems can be defeated, it’s just a matter of how much you want rid of them.

  By the time I’d reached the age of twelve, people told me I had become quite a good storyteller. This next story about bullying would have appealed to me at that time. Although it is for younger readers, it has a message for us all.

  In the forest of the Fairy Queen, trees, plants and animals lived in perfect harmony. She wouldn’t tolerate anything that upset the peace of her pretty
woodlands. Every so often she’d send out her fairy helpers to check that all was as it should be.

  At the entrance to the forest, two giant oaks stood tall and strong; their thick branches spreading upwards to catch the sun’s rays and the rain’s welcoming waters. Birds came in springtime to build their nests there, and in summer they raised healthy chicks. During the day, their branches were a favourite resting place for wise old owl, the watcher of the woods, and in the night his eyes could see everything that moved about down below on the forest floor.

  Harmony reigned supreme, until one very upsetting day. Helgalum the witch, famous for causing trouble, was gathering some herbs and mushrooms, when she stopped under the shade of the oaks to rest. ‘These two trees have grown to a giant size, they’d make perfect fuel for my stove,’ she thought, admiring the thickness of their brown trunks and relishing the thought of how much warmth she’d get as they burned in her fireplace. She pictured them cut into logs and piled neatly outside her cottage wall.

  ‘Not much chance of that, though,’ she thought. She remembered the last time she had helped herself to a few branches of fresh green broom for a new broomstick that she wanted to use to fly to the moon on. The Fairy Queen’s helper had seen her cutting down chunks of the broom, and she shivered at the thought of the powerful wind the Queen had sent to blow her into space. Helgalum would still be circling Mars if she’d not managed to attach herself to a comet heading for Earth. She hoped the Queen’s helpers weren’t around as she rested, but oh dear, the sudden swish of an oak branch reminded her of how keen-eyed the little fairies were.

  ‘Does Her Majesty know that you’re back?’ enquired one of them, staying out of reach of Helgalum’s long arm. She would swat them like flies if they got too near her.

  ‘I arrived back last week from my wonderful trip among the planets, and if she didn’t hear about it then, she will now.’