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Robbie returned after four days, and told me that he had brought a carriage and that we would depart early the next morning; the remainder of the journey would be made in one day. I dressed with the meeting of the clan uppermost in my mind. I did not know what to expect, but I did not believe that the women there would wear silks and lace, as we did at Brianag; so I wore the gray linen gown and a linen petticoat and lawn kerchief, and my broad straw hat.
The carriage was small and light, and I was greatly relieved by its comfort. Rabbit rode with me, and Robbie and Kevin and three red-haired young men and an older one rode horseback. I soon learned that two were the grandsons of Hamish McDonald, the back country clan leader, and the other two the son and grandson of his brother Charles. It was at first confusing to learn their names for they were all so similar; but when they were sorted out I learned that the elder, who was perhaps a few years younger than my father, was Robert, Charles' son, and was called Bobby. His son was Charlie; Hamish's grandsons were Colin and Ruddy.
They were quite boisterous and laughed frequently; there was a resemblance to Robbie in temperament as well as appearance. They all carried pistols tied to their belts; their breeches were of buckskins, and they wore shirts of coarse linen. They wore moccasins instead of boots. Bobby wore a beard which was bright red and bushy. He laughed and joked quite as much as the young men.
The day passed quite pleasantly and we arrived at the McDonald lands before sundown. The boys whooped and galloped ahead to reach the house; the horses pulling the carriage stepped more quickly. As we rounded a curve in the road the trees thinned out and the road sloped down, then up again; and there was Barraigh.
The house was at the foot of a mountain, and blended into the landscape. Built of stone and wood, it was named for an island in the Scottish Highlands. It was a rambling structure, having begun as a large log house to which numerous rooms had been added over the years. A wooden porch stretched across the entire front of the house; lights were lit inside. The door opened and a throng of people poured out as we drew up.
Even if Robbie had warned me, I could not have been prepared for such a greeting.
There seemed to be as many people as at the Harvest ball at Brianag; but they all appeared to have been turned from the same mold. Among the dozens there, nearly all heads were red; all the men wore breeches of leather, and the women linsey-woolsey gowns; some even wore bed gowns. There were two very old women, and two men of grandfather age; I saw at least four pregnant women and girls; babies were carried, and children of all ages scampered about, all talking and exclaiming over me. I smiled and nodded; some of the Scot accents were so thick I could not understand what they were saying, and the old ladies were speaking the mother tongue of which I understood nothing.