“See, Captain Cunningham has been preaching about the war again, and he’s makin’ Hiram uneasy in his mind.”
“Has he, indeed?” What with one thing and another, I hadn’t gone to the captain’s Sunday services of late. But I knew he was a Loyalist—and there was that man, Partland, who had tried to bring him rifles. “Do you think he’s planning to raise his own militia? Here?” That would be more than awkward.
“I don’t think so,” Jamie said slowly, frowning into his gin. “The captain has his limits, but I think he’s wise enough to ken that he does have them. But yon friends of his … Granger and Partland. If they had it in mind to raise a unit of Loyalist militia—and they do—he’d likely support them. Tell his congregation about it, I mean, and urge the suitable men to turn out.”
It was odd, I thought, that while whisky warmed the body, gin seemed to cool it. Or perhaps it was the talk of militias that was giving me a chilly feeling on the back of the neck.
“But surely Hiram’s not going to listen to Captain Cunningham, is he? I mean, the captain isn’t strictly speaking a Papist, but from Hiram’s point of view, Methodists likely aren’t that much better.”
“True.” Jamie licked the corner of his mouth. “And I doubt he’s gone to many of Cunningham’s sermons himself. But a few of the Thurso folk do, of course.”
“For entertainment?” I smiled. While both Roger and the captain had small but devoted congregations, there were not a few of the Ridge inhabitants who would come to listen to anyone willing to get up and talk, and who sat through all of the Sunday services, including Rachel’s meetings, later comparing critical opinions of each preacher’s remarks.
“Aye, mostly. The captain’s no so good as a Punch-and-Judy show—or even as good as Roger Mac—but he’s something to listen to and talk about. And Hiram’s cousins have been talking. He doesna like it.”
“And so … he wants his half brother to court Fanny?” I shook my head. Even with a solid half ounce of rhubarb gin under my belt, I didn’t see the connection.
“Well, it’s no really about Frances, ken.” He picked up the gin bottle and smelled it thoughtfully. “Rhubarb, ye say. If I drink more of this, will it give me the shits?”
“I don’t know. Try it and see,” I advised him, holding out my own cup for more. “What is it about, then, and why is Fanny involved?”
“Well, it’s a tie—no a formal one, of course—but a link betwixt Hiram and me. He sees well enough where things are going, and it will be easier, when the time comes, for him to go with me, and bring some of his men along, if there’s a … friendly feeling between the families, aye?”
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” I took a minute to contemplate that. “You can’t really be considering marrying Fanny off to the Crombies! It may be war, but it isn’t the War of the bloody Roses, with dynastic marriages right and left. I mean, I’d hate to see you end up in a butt of malmsey with a red-hot poker up your arse, like the Duke of Clarence.”
That made him laugh, and the knot forming under the gin in my stomach relaxed a little.
“Not yet, Sassenach. No, and I willna let Cyrus trouble Fanny—or even talk to her formally, if she mislikes the notion. But if the lassie doesna mind him visiting—and he is a sweet-tempered lad—then … aye, it might help Hiram when I need to ask him to ride with me and bring his men.”
I tried to envision Hiram Crombie riding into battle at Jamie’s side—and surprisingly, found it not all that far-fetched. Bar the riding part … the Thurso people did of course have the occasional mule or nag for transport, but on the whole, they were deeply suspicious of horses and preferred to walk. I supposed they could be infantry …
“But I dinna mean Frances to be made uneasy,” he said. “I’ll talk to her—and you should, too, like women, ken?”
“Like women, forsooth,” I murmured. But he was right. Fanny knew much, much more of the risks of being a woman than the average twelve-year-old did, and while I doubted that Cyrus would be any sort of threat to her, I must reassure her that this proposition was entirely hers to decline.
“All right,” I said, still a bit reluctant. “Do you know anything about Cyrus, other than his being tall?”
“Hiram spoke well of the lad. Paid him what I think was a verra high compliment.”