13
“Mr Gillespie has a plan to end peat reek in the glen, does he?” Father faced me across the breadth of the table.
“That’s what he said.” I nodded.
“I wonder what he has in mind.” Father grinned. “The militia has not won any new battle honours so far, and the famous Malcolm Campbell was having kittens the last time I saw him.”
“Campbell is a dangerous man,” I said. “I am a bit afraid of him.”
Father gave a short laugh. “I am sure he will be a bit afraid of me, now.” He patted my shoulder. “Let me take care of Mr precious Campbell.”
“Maybe so, Father,” I said. “And who will take care of Mr Gillespie?”
“You will,” Father said quietly. “I want you to find out what he plans to do with our glen.”
“It’s his glen now, Father,” I said. “And I have no intention of seeing him again. His an
