The Sons of Silas McCracken

Prologue

Silas McCracken was a hard man—hard but fair by his own reckoning—yet he knew that few would agree with him. His father had been the same before him, and no doubt his grandfather also, for they were all of tough Highland Scots extraction, where a pound had always represented fully twenty shillings, never a penny more and never a penny less. He was a short, stocky man, his bent shoulders and long, gangling arms giving him a slightly gorilla-like appearance, while his broad, hair-matted chest gave promise of comparable strength. His chiselled features were not unhandsome, and although the rough stubble of greying beard about his craggy jaw lent him an untidy appearance, the steely glint in the glacier-blue eyes that unblinkingly gazed out upon his world told of an iron resolve and an indomitable will. In short, he was not a man to be taken lightly.

His wife, Mary, was of gentler stock. She had met the young Silas some ten years earlier, when he was a youth of twenty-two and she a maid of eighteen. She had rapidly been swept off her feet by the attention of the resourceful and determined Silas, who was actively seeking a wife. After a short whirlwind romance, he had asked for her hand and it had willingly been given. Then followed a short, tempestuous love life. Mary bore him three sons in the early years of happy marriage, during which time he acted as a model husband, mindful and caring in every detail. Thereafter, he progressively lost interest in his young wife, who was relegated to caring for his needs other than sexual, for his boys became his total obsession.

The elder two were twins, although not identical; and after some thought, during which Mary was not consulted, their father christened them Harold and Robert. Harold was named for his paternal grandfather. He was a strong, robust lad, extroverted in nature, yet even from a young age he showed little need for affection from either of his doting parents. He was a thoughtful boy, ever given to considering all facets of a situation before acting.

The other twin, named Robert after his paternal great-grandfather, bore most of the physical characteristics of his older, by one hour, sibling. Bodily they were almost indistinguishable, yet their facial features were markedly different. Although physically alike, it was here that all similarity ceased. Robert was quiet, yet prone to act impetuously and consider the consequences of his actions later. He was also gentler and much more affectionate by nature and so was emotionally much closer to his mother than was his twin.

The third son, a full year younger, was sickly from birth. For a time, it was doubtful whether he would survive, and during the early few months of his young life, his father developed an indifference towards him that was to persist for the rest of his days, for Silas McCracken had no use for sickly sons. If his wife bore him a weak child, it was better that the child should die, for she could always bear him another son more suitable to the hard life of the Scottish Highlands.

The young child, however, refused to oblige the wishes of his indifferent father, perversely resisting death and clinging to what little life he possessed by the merest of threads. Owing entirely to the tender love and care of his concerned mother and his own contrary nature, the little mite gradually gained ground and the crisis passed. The youngest of the three boys would live, although it was doubtful whether he would ever be a strong child. Grudgingly admitting defeat, his father named him Angus after his maternal grandfather. This was the only concession Silas made to the existence of his wife’s family, and it was significant, for it instituted and maintained a barrier that was to remain between him and his unwanted youngest son for the rest of his life.

And so, as is often the case, the course of the lad’s life was set from the earliest years. The two older boys would enjoy the favour of their hard, determined father, whereas Angus would bear his closefisted resentment. These three young lives would develop along separate paths, influenced and abetted by the attitudes of their very different parents. Their ultimate happiness, and that of those who bore them, would hang in the balance.

This, then, is a tale of relative success, for by different standards each son would succeed. It is for the reader to discern how success and failure are judged in the balance and where the scale shall fall. For as with beauty, the eye of the beholder can be influenced by preconceived ideas, and its judgement also can be flawed. A whited sepulchre is always a tomb, however well adorned; a rough, uncut diamond remains a diamond still.

Chapter 1

“They’re two fine, strong lads, Mr. McCracken,” Dean Jonas, the headmaster, observed. “I’m sure they will work hard at their studies and succeed in the broad curriculum of games the school provides. St. Giles College is very selective in its students, but I’m sure we can find places for the likes of Robert and Harry. There is now the small matter of the school fees to be considered. The best does not come cheap, as we all know well, but I’m sure you and your good wife have considered that a fine education in such a grand school is a shrewd investment and the fees are well and truly justified. Accounts are payable in advance, and on the receipt of same, the boys’ names shall be added to the school’s roles. Now, are there any other concerns that require clarification before you commence your journey home?”

Here the ruddy-faced, overweight headmaster leaned back in his leather-upholstered chair, beaming his well-rehearsed plastic smile at the parents sitting before his desk while he attempted to concentrate his bored mind on the matter at hand.

“I’m na a wealthy man, Mr. Jonas,” Silas McCracken answered. “The fees are indeed very steep, but with hard work and canny saving, the money will be found. It is my wish that the twins be given the best start in life that I can afford, and I’m advised Giles College can provide that start. You keep your part of the agreement, and I’ll keep mine. But I canna have my boys wasting their time and my money without results. It’s results I’ll be wantin’ Mr. Jonas; all the rest is nothing but humbug to me. Do I make myself clear to your understanding, Mr. Jonas?” Silas’s whole compact body leaned forward in his chair as if to give extra impetus to his words. “I’ll be having no truck with failure in any form.” Fixing the hapless master with a glacial stare, he folded his arms and rested back in his chair, as if awaiting some form of guarantee from the fat figure before him.

Dean Jonas was somewhat perplexed. He was not accustomed to being spoken to in this uncivil manner, particularly by an upcountry farmer he deemed very much his inferior. His instinctive reaction was to rise to his feet and order this upstart before him from his office, thus terminating the unpleasant interview. With difficulty, however, he controlled his temper and allowed a supercilious smile to crease the fat folds of his florid face.

“I feel sure that St. Giles shall not disappoint you in that regard, my good sir,” he commented through pursed lips, the false smile masking the hostile thoughts abounding behind the facade of his set features. “As I have mentioned before, we pride ourselves on excellence in all things, and we shall make no exceptions with your boys.” He now rose ponderously from his chair, extending his limp, flabby hand to indicate the termination of the interview, managing at the same time to glance rather pointedly at his ornate watch to convey the impression that his valuable time was being wasted.