The Rogues by Jane Yolen and Robert J. Harris Page A

nose.
    I let out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding. The kirk seemed suddenly filled with light, and I realized that the clouds had moved away from the sun. A few more voices called out their approval, and those few calls quickly became a roar.
    Lachlan leaned close to me and whispered, “For yer sake I hope this turns out well.”
    â€œYe agreed with me!” I rounded on him.
    â€œAye, but just to stir things up,” he answered with a crooked smirk. “Mind ye, I never thought yer idea would work.”
    I jammed my elbow into his ribs, and he doubled half over, but that didn’t wipe the grin from his face.
    We strode home proudly, like soldiers returning from a great victory, not something a Highlander knows a lot about. We laughed and joked along the way. Even Da seemed excited about what we had decided, as if it had been his own idea.
    The last of the afternoon sun was once again disappearing behind dark clouds. That did nothing to dampen our spirits. But as we drew closer to our cottage, our confident steps faltered. When we could smell the peat fire, we stopped, as if signaled to halt.
    Da began to chew on his mustache. I knew what he was thinking. Ma had always cheered us on in our endeavors, but Ishbel was different. What would she make of this turn of events?
    We held back until we looked foolish, all three of us standing nervously in front of the door, and Lachlan said, “Da?” And Da grunted, squared his shoulders, and pushed through into the cottage.
    Ishbel was bent over the cook pot with her back turned toward us, the light of the peat fire blazing a halo around her. “So yer home at last,” she said without looking around.
    â€œAye, home and hungry too,” said Da, staring at the table that wasn’t yet set for dinner.
    We boys didn’t say a word but simply sat down quickly on our stools.
    â€œThere’s fresh water in the bucket,” Ishbel said.
    After a pause, Da added, “Best see to it, boys.”
    We went to the bucket and took turns washing our faces and hands. When we sat down again, we wiped our palms dry on our jerkins. I smiled at Ishbel’s back.
    Lifting four wooden bowls down from the shelf, she ladled stew into them, turned and held them out to us one at a time, along with wooden spoons. We stood, grabbed the bowls, then sat again, spooning the vegetables into our mouths with hardly a pause for breath, as if that could keep us from talking.
    Ishbel took a slow spoonful from her own bowl and asked, “So, what was the end of yer meeting?”
    Lachlan and I kept shoveling the food in and let Da answer her.
    â€œIf ye were so curious, ye should have come along,” he said. “Some women were there.”
    â€œWith their husbands, I would guess,” Ishbel retorted sharply. “I’m an outsider here. There’d be no place for me.”
    Da shrugged. “There was a lot of talk,” he said slowly. “That’s all.”
    â€œThere’s always a lot of talk,” said Ishbel, shrugging back at him. “But is anything to be done?”
    Da took another mouthful of stew and chewed it thoughtfully. He chewed so thoroughly, he must have made mush. At last he said, “We’re sending a deputation.”
    â€œTo the laird?” She held up her spoon.
    â€œOf course to the laird, woman,” said Da.
    â€œTo do what?” She leaned forward.
    â€œTo ask him politely to release the cattle.”
    Ishbel huffed derisively. “And why should he listen? It’s a poor pipe that blows only wind.”
    â€œBecause we’ll be taking all the sheep with us!” Lachlan piped up loudly.
    Da glared at him, but it was too late.
    â€œThe sheep?” Ishbel repeated. “Ye mean the sheep from Glendoun?”
    Da nodded mutely.
    â€œAnd whose cracked notion was that?” She stood and went over to stir the fire, which made shadows dance around the table.
    We all three