Dan Makgow Smith
Malcolm Macgow is good at what he does: a Scottish blacksmith. Living in Forfar, Scotland in the 1600's with his son, Ian, they make ends meet. Malcolm comes from a long line of blacksmith’s and is teaching his son the trade as well. Although not officially single, he lives his life that way since his wife left him some time ago and has basically abandoned the family. His life takes a sudden change when a woman, Kate MacPherson, enters his life and turns him completely upside down emotionally. It doesn’t take long before he falls madly in love with her.
His life takes a turn for the worse when the local magistrate teams up with a group of domineering men who are bent on taking Malcolm’s land right out from under him for purposes that are diabolical and not in the best interests of the town of Forfar.
Malcolm’s brother, Daniel, now living in the American colonies, has his own set of problems when he is accused of being in league with the Salem witch crowd. Daniel had sailed to America to make his own way in life as a fur trader, but fate had other plans for him in the name of an old family nemesis named, Theodore Higginbottom. Fleeing into the wilderness, Daniel evades capture and meets a woman by the name of Logan Moss, who he falls in love with. Eventually Daniel and Logan make their way back to Salem and prepare to make a stand with whatever awaits them there.
In the present time, the brother’s descendants come together, as family from America travel to Scotland where they discover their long lost relatives some three-hundred plus years later.
This is my first novel. I had, for many years, contemplated writing a book but didn’t think I had enough to say. I am 57 years old, married with two grown children who live in Europe. I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, but am of southern parents who gave me the traits of their own heritage from which I am very proud. I have lived in Gatlinburg, TN for the past 15 years where I make my home. I am an avid hiker who enjoys the Great Smoky Mountains and just being out in nature.
In writing this novel, I called upon my involvement with the Scottish Highland Games, which I have regularly attended for the past 12 years as part of my heritage. I also am well versed in World and American history. It is my love for Scotland that gave me the encouragement to put pen to paper and see what I had in me as a novelist. I found that the words would flow as if someone were telling me what to write next and where the book should go. My characters came alive to me and I just followed their lead.
Ian walked Mr. Gracie out of the forge and mingled with some other local men who had gathered to talk about the weather, the political scene, or just some other person who happened to not be present. People were going to and fro on the busy road, everyone with their own business to attend. As Malcolm began the process of closing down the forge for the evening, he noticed a man on horseback whom he couldn’t place. He was pretty sure that the man was not a local as the man pulled the reins of his horse back and forth, for the horse had become a bit skittish. He suddenly pointed the horse in the direction of the group of people that Ian was a part of and started a steady jog toward them. Malcolm became concerned that the man might be looking at Ian and might be someone from the group that the Druid had talked about earlier. Malcolm, ripping off his thick gloves one at a time, threw them down on the forge floor and started a fast paced walk toward the same location where Ian was. Realizing that his gait wouldn’t get him to Ian before the man on horseback, Malcolm started to run toward the group. As the man on horseback arrived, just seconds before Malcolm, Malcolm heard him say,
“Thomas MacBain, I thought that was you.”
The man on the horse brought his steed to a fast halt in front of the group.
“George MacInnes! I thought you a dead man,” said Mr. MacBain.
“In the flesh, alive and kicking, never felt better.” He gave a hearty laugh. Dismounting and trying to calm the horse, he shook the hand of his longtime friend, Mr. MacBain.
Malcolm had brought his own run to a stop just shy of Ian as Ian turned around to his dad. “Dad, everything alright?”
“Yes, I thought . . . for a moment I . . . oh nothing, Ian.”
Malcolm felt relief but also embarrassment for thinking what he didn’t tell Ian. But how was he to know if the man was aiming for Ian? After all, he was a stranger, and Ian was so vulnerable. Malcolm walked back into the forge, took the dipper from the bucket, and poured water over his head before taking a long cool drink. Malcolm’s heart was racing at a pretty good pace as the adrenaline pumped through his body. He had been ready to fight to defend his son, and now it was over, that quickly. Malcolm knew though that he could never let his guard down with what was lurking in the shadows of this village. He had to see this thing through to the end, just in order to survive, for there would never be rest for him and Ian as long as the threat existed and they were the targets.
