photo from Dunrod Hill (gm7something.wordpress.com)
There was an old road, they called it ‘the Roman road’, which
led there once upon a time. The farm, like the family, used to stand proud and
shiny as it looked hopefully towards the loch. There’s nothing much of it left
now, just a shell that keeps the wind and rain from the lonely hill-walker. But
a long, long time ago, probably before you were born, something magic happened
on that farm; something truly wonderful.
I suppose I should start by telling you about Sean. He
was a lad who was always looking for adventure and excitement. Yet being much
younger than his brothers, he found life on the farm a little lonely and so,
after his chores, he would take to the hills with his imaginary pals and become
the hero of the latest book he was reading.
If I recall correctly, the storm that started all this
came on a dark Saturday afternoon in April. Sean would have been eight by then
but like the rest of the family he knew the hills better than the back of their
own hands. He had finished up his work on the farm for the day, had got washed
and was ready to set out for another adventure as The Lone Ranger.
“Just you hold your horses,” said Annie, Sean’s mother.
“Your father wants to speak to you.”
Those words usually meant that the school had reported
to his parents that he hadn’t turned up again. Sean normally hid his books at
the bottom of Dunrod Hill (but he was particular – he only went absent on those
hot, sunny days) and then he’d spend the time jumping around the rocks at the
top where he’d round up the bad guys. He’d pick up his stuff at the end of the
day just about the time he should have been coming home from school. So what if
he couldn’t add up? He loved the freedom and hated being in class.
His father, Alex, came in to the kitchen looking
worried.
“We need everyone to help. One of the sheep is lost on
the hill and we need to bring it in before the storm,” he said.
Each of the family was given an area, and since Dunrod
was the Lone Ranger’s domain, naturally Sean was given that hill to search.
The climb up Dunrod was steep but there was an old wall
on the left side which a person could grab on to. It didn’t help that the storm
was bringing in the darkness quicker than expected. The wind had picked up too
and so by the time that Sean reached the summit of Dunrod, it was taking all
his strength just to walk.
He searched around the top of the hill and down a couple
of the gullies but there was nothing. Then Sean thought he might try the small
pond in the lost valley. The sheep never usually made it that far but as the
Lone Ranger, Sean had caught a couple of cowpokes rustling down that way.
As he approached the pond, he could hear the bleating of
a sheep and sure enough there was the lost animal, one leg stuck in-between two
rocks at the edge of the pond. The wind and rain was burning Sean’s face but he
managed to crawl down to the side of the water and pull the sheep’s leg free.
Somewhere out there, the storm had torn a large part of
a tree away and sent it flying in the direction of Sean. So as he tried to
stand, the tree hit the back of his head and knocked him flying into the pool.
Sean was out cold and face down in the pond.
The man had been standing a little distance off and
waiting for his moment. He walked over to the pond and pulled Sean from the
pool. He laid the boy on his side and forced every last bit of water from his
lungs. Sean coughed and spluttered and eventually fell into a sleep.
When Sean came to, he was lying on his side and a
blazing fire was warming his face and body. The man sat at the other side of
the fire, just smiling. Sean lifted his head.
“Just take your time, you’ve had a shock,” said the man.
“Who are you?” Asked Sean.
“Just a pal, who happened to be passing.”
Sean could see the man was wearing a uniform, probably
an army one but not one he’d seen before. The light from the fire caught a
glass red rose pinned to the man’s lapel. He must have been in his twenties,
dark hair and had a pleasant face.
“When you’re warm enough and you’re ready, I’ll take you
home,” said the man.
“What happened to the sheep?” Asked Sean.
“She’s safe, outside, don’t worry.”
And the funny thing is, Sean felt safe too.
Soon they were making their way down Dunrod Hill with the
man holding tightly on to the sheep.
There were two farms at the bottom of the hill, Sean’s
family’s and the MacIntyre’s.
“Which one?” Asked the man and Sean led the man and the
sheep over to the left farm. It was dark as they approached Sean’s home and
though they both struggled, they managed to place the sheep with the rest of
the flock.
“Are you coming in?” Asked Sean to the man.
“Better not, I’m already late.”
“Fair enough.”
Sean noticed the man staring in through the kitchen
window.
“What’s wrong?” Asked Sean.
“Nothing, just watching your mother and father. They seem
like a happy family.”
Sean opened the door to the farmhouse and turned to ask
the man again to come in, but he had disappeared into the night.
Sean’s mother gave him the biggest hug then scolded him
for being gone for so long.
It was the following year that Sean’s mother died and Sean
and his family helped each other get through their grief. Sean went to school
less and less and eventually spent all of his time helping on the farm.
One winter a huge war started, and so Sean’s brothers
went off to fight in foreign lands. The war lasted for several years and so
came the day when Sean was to go off to fight as well. His father was going to
miss him dearly, not only on the farm but in their closeness.
The morning that Sean left for the war in a far away land,
his father had packed a haversack for the boy. He put in some bread and
cheese for the boy to eat on his journey. The father kissed his youngest and
wished him well. Sean never saw his father’s tears as he marched down the Roman
road in to the town and on to war.
Not far outside Glasgow, Sean felt a little hungry and
pulled out the food his father had given him. A letter also dropped out and
Sean picked it up. It read:
‘My Darling Boy, you’ll never know how proud I am of you
or how much I’ll miss you. When your mother left us, you were my little soldier
who helped me. Now you’re going off to fight a war. I know your mother will be
watching. Before she died, she asked me to give you this on the day you left
home. I won it for her at the Fair in Greenock. It was my first gift to her. I
miss her and all my family. I’ll miss you. Love, your father.’
Sean slipped the little trinket on to the palm of his
hand. It was a little glass red rose.
He pinned it to his lapel.
bobby stevenson 2014
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