Free Conflict and Courage by Candy Rae

searching
them out.
     
     
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CHAPTER 10 - ARGYLL

    Duguld McCallum
wiped his brow, the perspiration dripping off him as he toiled in
the soon to be planted fields on the gentle slopes around the
McCallum cabin. The building sat, stark in its newness beside the
river that would irrigate the root crops. In the small paddocks
browsed a small number of kura who provided the family with their
dairy needs. Saplings of native fruit trees were settling into the
ground of the embryo orchard.
    It was
backbreaking work, tilling the soil for this first all-important
planting. Duguld paused momentarily from his labours to wonder anew
why his father had insisted that they plant, rather than do the
same as their neighbours and concentrate on building up their kura
and zarova herds. These farmers would rely on the wild roots and
grains that grew in abundance in this part of Argyll, halfway
towards the great inland lake that some were calling Lake Stewart,
in remembrance of their late commanding officer who had died
leading the defence of Settlement.
    Alastair
McCallum would only declare that the future was with root
crops.
    “Many will take
the easy option,” he told his son often, “but the wild roots will
not feed the population for ever. Believe me, within two years we
will be well rewarded for our labours when the demand for staples
like redroot and greenroot rises. Redroots this year and perhaps
some of the wild maize. Bread is and will continue to be, a basic
food. We will make our fortunes, you’ll see.”
    Alastair
McCallum had great plans for both his farm and his only son
Duguld’s future but he wondered sometimes if Duguld’s heart was in
it. The boy had inherited certain tendencies from his mother that
Alastair deplored such as her love of reading and music. This
wouldn’t have been an insurmountable problem in itself but Duguld
was, to his father’s chagrin, far too interested in the latter to
the detriment of his farm work. The boy blew his mother’s old
trumpet whenever he had a moment to himself and also when he was
supposed to be working. Alastair was making plans to get rid of the
instrument.
    He was not best
pleased when he spied a lone dark-striped Lind approaching his
farmstead, who asked in broken Standard if she could drink and rest
for a while. She did so, appearing to ignore those who came to ogle
and watch as she lapped up the fresh water. Instead of leaving as
the elder McCallum thought she should, she appeared disposed to
rest in the orchard for the night and settled down in a quiet
corner.
    Knowing
something of what the Lind were about, she was not the first Lind
to pass this way, he warned his son to stay away from her and, with
vim and point, ignored her presence, believing that as always
Duguld would obey him.
    He was
understandably angry when late that night on his rounds he spied
Duguld and the Lind talking together.
    “What is the
meaning of this?” he shouted, angry at the blatant disobedience and
began to march towards them intending to let his son know all about
it. Chastisement was in order.
    Ganya and
Duguld’s heads turned towards him.
    “We were just
talking father,” Duguld answered, edging away. He knew his father’s
heavy hand of old, “Ganya here was telling me about her rtath.
That’s the Lind word for pack you know.”
    “I do know,”
Alastair replied through clenched teeth, “now you get off to the
cabin where you belong and go to bed. We have a full day’s work
ahead of us tomorrow.”
    Duguld left and
Alastair turned to Ganya. “You can stay here tonight,” he said,
trying to keep his anger in check, “but I want you well away from
here at sunup, do you hear?”
    “It shall be as
you wish,” she replied and lay down again.
    Alastair
watched her for a while, wondering if it was possible to order her
off his land but he was unsure of the law regarding trespass by a
Lind. It had been their continent before mankind had arrived and
Ganya was on the