The Betrayal of Maggie Blair

Chapter 13

Tam was right. The smell of birch smoke wafted toward us as we approached the bothy, and we could hear the men moving about inside. I had slipped off my girls' clothes and belted my father's plaid around me again, fixing the buckle in place with a defiant look at Annie. She had hardly been able to stop herself laughing at the way I was dressed, but she caught my eye and dropped her gaze. I strode ahead with my newfound boy's freedom, while Annie tripped daintily across the expanse of grass and bog reed, holding her skirt up to keep it out of the mud.

Tam kept looking over his shoulder.

"Will you hurry up now, Annie," he kept saying. "There might be other men along any minute with their cows."

It was dark inside the windowless bothy, and it took me a moment to make out the two men. The younger one was stirring a pot over the fire. The older one stood quietly, studying Annie.

"You don't take after your father," he said, looking her up and down with a frown. She had tilted her head charmingly to one side and was smiling up at him.

"You've got the wrong lassie, Archie," Tam said, pushing me forward. "This is Maggie."

I felt Mr. Lithgow's eyes on me and knew that a blush was rising in my cheeks. I didn't like to think how I must look, with my boy's plaid and my legs showing bare beneath my knees. But the leathery skin around his eyes crinkled into a smile.

"You're a boy now? Good. Much better. And you're not afraid of a long journey and the rain and sleeping in the open? Wading through rivers?"

"A bit, but I'll do my best."

"Good," he said again.

He nodded to the other man, who handed me a wooden bowl filled with porridge and a horn spoon.

I moved away into the shadows, ashamed to let them see how eagerly I was gobbling down the food. The light from the open door fell on Mr. Lithgow's face. He was frowning at Annie.

"Oh, Mr. Lithgow," she said, before he could speak. "I'm so grateful to you for taking me. I'll be ever so helpful. I can cook and wash your clothes and—and—" Her eyes fell on the black-and-white collie dog lying silently by the fire, looking up at her with his snout resting on his forepaws. "And look after the dogs," she finished lamely.

"That's what you can do, is it?" Mr. Lithgow said. "Well, there's no call for finicky clothes-washing on a drove. The rain and the river crossings see to that. Peter Boag here cooks up the porridge. And if you were to interfere with the dogs, you'd be away on your own, out of my drove, out of my way."

Annie's lips tightened in disappointment but just then a call came from outside. Mr. Lithgow's face darkened.

"I thought we had the full complement," he muttered. "Here's a chancer wanting a last-minute bargain price."

He stepped out of the bothy.

"Glad I caught you, Archie," came a voice that laid a hand of ice on me. I stood frozen, the last spoonful of porridge suspended in midair. "I've three prime animals here for the market at Dumbarton. What price must I give you for taking them?"

It was Mr. Lamont, the man who had sent my granny to her death and condemned me to the gallows too.

Annie had clapped her hand over her mouth. Tam pursed his lips in a silent whistle and melted back into a dark corner of the bothy. Peter Boag, his face impassive, stood up and walked outside to join Mr. Lithgow.

"What'll I do? He'll find me!" whispered Annie loudly.

"Will you shut up!" I mouthed at her.

The men outside were bargaining. They came to an agreement, sealed with a slap of a handshake, and then we heard the squelch and suck of mud as Mr. Lamont's three cows crossed a patch of bog to join the rest of the herd grazing peacefully by the water's edge.

"When are you off?" Mr. Lamont was asking pleasantly.

"Soon," said Mr. Lithgow. "The tide is low at eight. The ferryman will be rowing up now. He'll be here shortly."

"I'll just wait and watch the crossing," Mr. Lamont said. "A fine sight, I'm sure, and one I've never witnessed."

I held my breath during the silence that followed.

"You can watch all you like," Mr. Lithgow said at last, "but not from here, if you please. The dogs are fussed by strangers when they're working. If you'll kindly retire to the far edge of the stance, beyond that stone wall, you'll see all you want to."

"Oh, very well."

Mr. Lamont sounded offended, but there was too much authority in the head drover's voice to be contradicted. His footsteps died away.

Mr. Lithgow came back into the bothy, ducking his head under the low doorway.

"This is bad. I take it the man knows you two girls?"

"Oh, not well, not well," Tam babbled. "He's seen them. He'll never recognize them. Why would he?"

"He'll know us," I said firmly. "He took evidence from Annie at the trial, and I stood right in front of him as he condemned me to death. He'd know me anywhere."

Mr. Lithgow went to the door and looked out, deep in thought, while Peter Boag quietly packed away the empty bowls and spoons in a saddlebag.

"I'll not take you," he said to Annie at last. "You'd best stay here in the bothy till the coast is clear and find someone else to take you to the mainland."

"Oh, but, Mr. Lithgow—" began Annie.

"But you, Maggie," he said, ignoring her, "by hook or by crook, we'll have to get you away. Can you swim?"

I shook my head.

"You can't come over in the boat." Mr. Lithgow's hand was working around the smooth top of his staff as he spoke. "Lamont'll have too much time to watch you and puzzle out who you are. You'll go over in the water with Samson."

"S-Samson?" I managed to stammer.

"The pony. You'll hold on to his mane and bridle. He's a strong swimmer. He'll take you across. Kick out your legs to help him. You'll keep on the far side of him. Mr. Lamont will see there's a boy with the pony, but he won't think anything of it."

"Oh, Mr. Lithgow," Annie said pleadingly. "Couldn't you take me in the boat? I'm not like Maggie. They're not after me the way they're after her."

"You should have the decency to put Maggie's safety first, after the harm you've done," Mr. Lithgow said with brutal force. "You'll do as you're told and stay in the bothy out of sight. See to it, Tam."

"Oh, aye," came Tam's voice out of the corner. "Leave it to me, Archie. You can trust me for that."

I couldn't see him, but I knew there'd be a hunted, hurt look on his face, like a child whose cleverness has been mocked by an adult.

"Archie, are you there?" came a shout from the water's edge, and then a splash and a clatter of wood on wood as oars were being pulled back into a boat.

"The boatman's here," said Mr. Lithgow. "Peter, we must get on. Listen carefully, Maggie. Peter and I will get the cows into the water. Stay inside till you hear me shout 'Danny.' That's what you'll be called on the drove, after your father. When you hear it, come out of the bothy, nice and normal, no hurry, unhitch Samson, and lead him into the water. He knows what to do. Stay on the left side of him and keep your head down. But don't look as if you're trying to hide. Once you're in the water, whatever you do, don't panic and drag on Samson's neck, or you'll pull his head under and he'll shake you off. Just hold to the mane and the bridle and let yourself be pulled along. We'll take your bundle and your plaid with us in the boat."

He held out his hand, and, blushing, I undid my belt and handed him the thick woolen plaid, ashamed of standing before them in my boy's shirt. He took it without seeming to notice anything strange and went out. I heard him whistle, and the dog leaped up and ran out after him.

"Tam!" I was shaking from head to foot. "I can't do it! I can't swim across like that. I'll drown."

He came out of his corner and hugged me.

"You'll be fine, Maidie. Archie Lithgow's the man for this. He knows what's what. You do like he says. He'll watch out for you. A lovely little bath, that's all it'll be. No bother. I'd do it myself without a thought."

I had to smile at that.

"No, you wouldn't, Tam. You'd be in a panic if you were me, you know you would."

"Aye, but then I'm not you, am I? You've got your granny in you, and your daddy too. And if you don't do it, you know what'll happen to you."

I'd almost forgotten, in my rage with Annie and my terror of the crossing, the fate that awaited me if I was taken back to Rothesay, and I took a deep breath, summoning my courage.

Outside we could hear splashes as the cows launched themselves into the water. Mr. Lithgow was shouting encouragement and whistling to the dogs.

I dared to look out through the door. Most of the cattle were in the water already, swimming strongly, their red, horned heads bobbing swiftly above the eddying currents of the kyle, the fast-flowing channel of water that separated Bute from the mainland. Mr. Lithgow was in the boat, being rowed across to the island. Peter Boag, with one of the dogs, was chivvying the last reluctant cows to take the plunge. I had a moment's dread, mixed almost with relief, that I was to be left behind.

"Danny! Bring Samson!" came Mr. Lithgow's voice loud and clear from across the water. His shout echoed from the hills on the far side.

"Goodbye, Tam." I gave the old man one last hug. "You've saved my life twice now. I won't ever, ever forget it."

"Get on with you, Maidie." His voice shook.

"Goodbye, Maggie," said Annie, and in the quick glance I gave her, I saw the old malice sparkle in her eyes.

I went outside, not daring to look at the wall over to my right, and fumbled with Samson's bridle, my fingers all thumbs.

"Danny, come on, will you!" Mr. Lithgow called again.

And then I was running beside the trotting pony, down across the lush grass of Bute to the little strip of pale sand, and my bare feet were crunching on the litter of white shells, and then there was the water, ice-cold, making me gasp with the shock of it, and I was hanging on to Samson's bridle as he pulled me in, and the touch of land fell away beneath my feet, the last touch of my island, and I was struggling, choking, and gasping as the water closed over my head.