“My great-great-great-grandfather, Hugh MacCallister, was a captain in the service of Governor Joseph Dudley of Massachusetts during the Queen Anne War. Hugh MacCallister was the first of our family to emigrate from Scotland, and was the brother of Braden MacCallister, your great-great-great-grandfather. Both were sons of Falcon MacCallister, and that, my dear cousin, is where our family lines cross.”
“You said in the letter that you have a brother named Falcon,” Duff said.
“Indeed we do,” Andrew said. “And I hope you will forgive the familial pride, but Falcon is one of the most storied people in our American West. Have you heard of General Custer?”
“Of course, I have read much of him,” Duff said.
“Falcon was with Custer on his last scout.”
“But how can that be? I thought all who were with Custer were killed.”
“Custer divided his forces into three elements,” Andrew explained. “All who were with him were killed, that is true. But most of the other two elements survived.”
“I must confess that since Uncle Hugh took the MacCallister name to America it sounds as if he, and all who followed, have done the name proud,” Duff said.
“Do you know much of our mutual ancestor, Falcon?” Andrew asked.
“Aye,” Duff responded. “On February 7, 1676, Fingal Somerled and his clan set out to destroy the MacCallisters and steal all their cattle. But our mutual grandfather, Sir Falcon MacCallister, Earl of Argyllshire, learned of the threat and set a trap for the Somerleds. When Somerled and his men entered Glen Fruin, he encountered a large force of men led by Falcon MacCallister. Somerled tried to withdraw, but he found his exit blocked by a strong force that Falcon had put into position for just that purpose. The Somerleds were trapped with MacCallisters in front and at the rear, and the walls of the glen on either side. They were completely routed, many were killed, and Fingal barely managed to escape with his life. That was the start of a feud between our two families that continues to this day.”
“You mean you are still killing each other?” Rosanna asked.
“Oh, no, thankfully we have put that aside.” Duff thought of the recent fight he had with Donald, Roderick, and Alexander Somerled, and he chuckled. “But we do still have our moments,” he added.
“Do you know the history of any of your other ancestors?” Andrew asked.
“Oh, yes. We have kept an oral history as part of our lives, so much so that I feel I actually know ancestors whom I never met. Duncan MacCallister is an interesting ancestor, but I’m afraid my great-greatgrandfather, Duncan fought against your great-great-grandfather Seamus in your revolutionary war. He was with General Cornwallis at Yorktown. As a result, he was part of an ignoble surrender. I am proud to say, however, that he fared much better at Waterloo, where Napoleon was defeated. Duncan was a sharpshooter with the 95th Rifles, part of the Duke of Wellington’s army.
“My grandfather, Alair MacCallister was a Brigadier with Sir Harry Smith in India when Ranjodh Singh was defeated. My father was a captain with General Simpson during the Crimean War, at the Battle of Sevastopol.”
“And you?” Andrew said.
“Ah, yes, my uniform. I am a captain in the reserves.”
“You may be in the reserves now, but I know for a fact that you are not wearing the uniform of the Black Watch merely for show,” Andrew said. “You took part in the battle of Tel el-Kebir in Egypt. That is where you received the Victoria Cross you are wearing.”
Duff smiled self-consciously. “You have done your homework, haven’t you, Andrew?”
“I wanted to find out as much as I could about our Scottish cousin,” Andrew said. “And while, admittedly, the blood lines that connect us have grown thin with succeeding generations, I believe that the spark of kinship can quite easily be fanned into a flame of genuine friendship.”
“For anyone else, the blood might be too thin at this point to claim kinship,” Duff said. “But not for the MacCallisters. Sure, and we are as kin as if ye were my brother.” He glanced over at Rosanna. “And a more beautiful and talented sister I could scarcely envision.”
Rosanna extended her hand across the table and, once more, Duff raised it to his lips for a kiss.
After they enjoyed their dinner, Duff took them to the White Horse Pub. Duff was greeted warmly by nearly every customer in the pub. Ian was behind the counter, and he smiled broadly as he saw Duff arrive with Andrew and Rosanna.
“Ian, my friend, may I introduce to you my kith and kin from New York,” Duff said.
Ian, who had been drying glasses, put the towel over his shoulder and extended his hand toward Andrew. “Sure and ‘tis a pleasure to meet the American cousins of my dear friend, and soon to be son-in-law, Duff MacCallister,” he said. He looked toward Rosanna. “And what a beautiful woman you be,” he said. “’Tis no wonder you are so successful in the theater.”
“Are all Scots so gallant?” Rosanna said.
Ian laughed. “’Tis our way,” he said.
“Where is Skye?” Rosanna asked. “I must meet my cousin’s fiancée.”
“She is there waiting on yon table,” Duff said, pointing her out.
“Oh, my,” Rosanna said. “What a beautiful young woman she is. Duff, I can see why you are so smitten with her.”
“As can I,” Andrew said. “What I can’t see is why she should be smitten with you.”
Andrew’s jibe drew a laugh as Ian put mugs of ale on the bar in front of each of them.
Andrew reached into his pocket for money, but Ian held up his hand. “This is on the house,” he said. “Surely I can furnish a beer to m’ own cousins now, can’t I?”
“Cousins?” Andrew said. He looked at Duff. “Did I not go far enough in my genealogy research?”
“We aren’t cousins yet,” Ian said. “But when my Skye marries Duff, ‘tis cousins-in-law we shall be.”
Andrew chuckled. “I suppose that is true, isn’t it?”
Skye returned to the bar then and was introduced to Andrew and Rosanna.
“’Tis most pleased I am to meet such famous theater people,” Skye said with a little curtsey as she greeted the pair.
“It is true that we strut and fret our brief hour upon the stage,” Andrew said. “But thus far, fame has eluded us.”
“He is being modest, Skye,” Duff said. “You should have seen the high esteem in which they were held by the people of Glasgow when I visited there to see their show.”
“The people of Glasgow were uncommonly kind,” Rosanna said. “Certainly they treated us with more deference than we deserve.”
“I think not,” Skye said. “I read of you in our newspaper. I have the article here.” Skye reached under the bar, then pulled out a newspaper that was carefully folded to display the article that held her interest.
She began to read:
Campbell’s Music Saloon has occasioned many theatricals and musicales of note, but rarely have the boards been so crowned as to be trod by that magnificent pair of thespians, Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister. Brother and sister they, the MacCallisters have long been the object of attention and admiration in New York. Should one be fortunate enough to attend a performance in which these two appear, they will indeed regard the evening of entertainment as time well spent.
She put the paper down. “If the paper writes that of you, then you are truly famous.”
“You read very well, young lady,” Andrew said. “You would make a fine thespian yourself.”
Skye blushed at the flattery.
At that moment Sheriff Angus Somerled came into the tavern, and much of the laughter and conversation grew quiet as he stood just inside the door, perusing the place with dark and brooding eyes.
“Skye, lass, see if we can be of service to the sheriff,” Ian said quietly.