Without waiting for a reply, she went over to the churn and removed the plug, draining the buttermilk into a clean bucket. When this was done, she filled an identical bucket to the same level with water, and poured it into the churn.
"I expected you to have a dash churn," Beth said, eyeing the barrel-shaped churn on its metal cradle with approval. "We had one like that in Manchester, but I've never seen another."
"It was made for us by a cooper," explained Peigi. "He'd been in America, and seen them there, but he was awfu' homesick, and came back in the end. It's still hard work, mind," she added, as she saw that Beth had no intention of minding the twins, but had instead pushed her sleeves up and taken a hold of the crank.
"I know," Beth replied. "I used to make the butter at home. You have a rest. The twins'll prefer their mother to look after them anyway. They don't know me."
Peigi's back was aching and she was tired. The twins were teething and fractious and had kept her awake for most of the previous night. A rest would be lovely.
"All right, then, if you're sure," she said. "Let me know when ye get tired though, and I'll take over."
She sat down on the blanket outside in the sunshine and waited for Beth to call her, in about fifteen minutes or so, she thought. The children, appeased by the undivided attention of their mother, crawled into her lap. The weather was lovely, wall-to-wall blue skies. Perfect harvesting weather. Alasdair and the other men had gone to see if the oats and barley were ready, and to fish for trout. A large bumble bee buzzed drowsily in a nearby patch of clover. Peigi closed her eyes, just for a moment.
When she opened them the sun had declined considerably in the sky and the blanket was now in the shadow. The twins had fallen asleep on her knee, and one of her legs had gone to sleep. Remembering, she moved the babies off her lap onto the blanket, taking care not to wake them, and stumbled into the dairy shed, wincing at the pins and needles in her leg as the blood started to circulate again.
Beth was at the table, working the last of the butter into pats with the grooved wooden ‘Scotch hands,' used to expel the excess water after churning. She looked up and smiled.
"You looked so peaceful there," she said cheerfully. "I thought I'd let you sleep. Is this for sale, or are you storing it for winter?" She cast a glance at the pile of earthenware jars, freshly washed and ready to one side.
Peigi stared at Beth with amazement. She showed not the slightest sign of fatigue, in spite of the fact that butter-churning was an exhausting task for even the brawniest of the women, and she had the slenderest arms Peigi had ever seen. Yet the butter was perfect; she could see that.
"It's to be stored," she said. "We'll have to leave it for a couple of hours, then roll it again. I'll away off and put the bairns to bed, then come back and finish off. Thank you," she added belatedly, stunned.
"It was nice to do a bit of hard work for a change," said Beth. "I'm ready for my meal now. I just hope Alex managed to catch some trout, that's all."
She walked back to the house, smiling, while Peigi's eyes followed her, watching for any sign of backache or soreness.
While Angus cooked the trout, Alex massaged Beth's aching arms and shoulders, working his fingers deep into the muscles and gently teasing out the knots. Duncan sat watching, but made no comment as Beth alternately winced and sighed with pleasure as the overworked muscles relaxed.
"Do ye no' think it was just a wee bit stupid, to churn all that butter yourself, without a rest?" Alex said after a few minutes. The smell of frying trout drifted from the kitchen, making Beth's mouth water. She was starving.
"No, I don't," she replied. "Like I said to Peigi, I used to do it at home."
"On your own?" Alex said.
"Well, no," she admitted. "John used to help me. In fact, he used to do most of the churning. I don't care, though. If it makes them stop treating me as if I was made of glass, it'll be worth it."
"Ye'll be sorry in the morning," he said, finishing his ministrations by planting a kiss on her shoulder. "Ye'll no' be able to move."
"I haven't got a lot to do," she said. "Apart from fetching water without looking as though it hurts. Which I'll do myself," she added, as Angus walked in with a large plate on which were three expertly-cooked trout.
"I've nae intention to help ye," he said, putting it on the table. "No' after the thanks I got last time. I'll be out in the fields with everyone else, anyway."
"Why?" she asked, liberating a piece of fish from the plate and popping it into her mouth. "What's happening tomorrow?"
"The harvest," said Alex. "The oats and barley are ready. Everyone helps. Except yourself. Ye'll be in no fit state to."
The three brothers, along with much of the rest of the clan, kept an intermittent eye on the young woman with the pale gold hair who was wielding her sickle with dexterity and no sign of discomfort. The women sang a song to help them keep the rhythm, and their voices were sweet and melodious on the warm late summer air.
"How the hell is she doing it?" said Duncan quietly to Alex, when there was no danger of them being overheard. "She must be in agony."
"Or an awfu' lot stronger than we thought," remarked Angus, his voice laced with admiration. He had seen her drag trunks up and down stairs, and lug buckets of water upstairs. But not for twelve hours at a stretch, for two days. After churning butter for several hours the day before that.
"She's in agony," said Alex with certainty, although there was no sign of pain on his wife's features as she laughed and joked with the other women. It was working, he had to give her that. The others had relaxed noticeably around her as they accepted there was more to her than met the eye. Only Alex knew that that ‘more' was nothing to do with physical strength.
"She's no' strong, she's bloody-minded," he said now to his brothers. "But dinna tell anyone I tellt ye that. Least of all her."
In the distance Beth paused for a minute, stretched her arms and rotated her shoulders a few times, then continued, quickly re-establishing the rhythm.
"She is that," agreed Duncan with due reverence. "But even the most bloody-minded man canna continue when his strength gives out. Are ye no' going tae stop her, afore she injures herself?"
"No' today, no," replied Alex. "It's getting late, anyway, and she needs to prove herself. She'd never forgive me if I made her stop now in front of the whole clan, and she'd be right. But ye're right, too. She canna continue like this for another day."
"She doesna need to, as far as I'm concerned," Angus said.
Judging by the general attitude, that was the view of the whole clan. Alex felt justified in what he was about to do.
"What do you mean, I'm not allowed out of the house?" Beth said, hands on hips, glaring at her brother-in-law. Exhausted, but in pain, she had found it difficult to get to sleep and had consequently woken late, by which time Angus and Alex had already risen silently, breakfasted and gone.
"They'll be finished by noon, anyway," Duncan reasoned. "There's no' much left to do."
"Fine," she said. "Then I'll be out there doing not much with them till noon." She made a move and Duncan set his back to the door. They eyed each other for a moment.
"He's got no right to do this," she said. "He can't keep me here against my will."
At this point Angus would no doubt have told her that Alex was her husband and could therefore do anything he wished to her, short of murder. Duncan did not, which was why he had been chosen for this unenviable task.
"Ye've proved yourself, lassie," he said instead. "Ye dinna need to do more."
"But all the other women are out there reaping, aren't they?" she said.
He nodded.
"Then I need to be out there with them, Duncan, or all my work'll be for nothing! Let me go, please," she pleaded.
He did not move.
"You cannot keep me here against my will!" she cried, almost in tears. Her muscles were cramped and sore. It had taken her ten minutes to dress, but if she didn't put in an appearance now everyone would know she wasn't as strong as the others.
"Aye, I can," he said logically. "But I dinna want to. Everyone kens ye churned butter all day, Peigi's tellt them she fell asleep. There isna a woman out there who wouldna jump at the chance of a rest. Ye've done it. Did ye no' ken that by the way they acted towards ye yestereve?"
She did, and had rejoiced. Even so …
"Has Alex told them that I'm too sore to work today?" she asked.
"No. Give him some credit. Ye're needed here tae make the bannocks and get things ready for tonight. So am I. We always have a wee feast to celebrate getting in the harvest. It's normal, Beth. If it wasna me and you, someone else'd have tae do it."