Neil McTaggart’s Crossing (8): A Story of 1920s Scottish Emigration to Canada (Podcast 1117)

Episode 8: The Deer at the Door

The morning began with a strange sound.
It was not the stove, or the wind, or birds.
It was something heavy, bumping against the front door.

Uncle Robert was awake first. He pulled on his boots.
“Stay in your bed, Neil,” he said quietly.
He opened the door, but it would not move far. Something blocked it.

Robert pushed harder, and a smell came inside blood and animal fur.
Then Neil saw it.
A deer.
A young buck, throat cut, body swinging by new rope.

Thomas came out from the back room, rubbing his eyes. When he saw the deer, his face went red. His hands shook with anger.

“They did this!” he shouted. “Keating’s men. I’ll kill them for it!”

He kicked the doorframe so hard the wood shook.
Robert grabbed his shoulder. “Stop it. That kind of talk will bring trouble.”

Thomas pulled away. “Trouble is already here! They want to scare us? Then let’s scare them back!”

Neil stepped forward. “Wait,” he said. His voice was calm, though his heart was fast. “Why would they do this? Why now?”

Robert unhooked the rope and lowered the deer to the ground. On the wood of the door were four scratched words:

STAY AWAY OR ELSE.

The room went quiet.

Thomas clenched his fists. “They think I’ve been poaching,” he spat. “That’s what this is about. Someone told them I’ve been taking deer from their land.”

Robert turned sharply. “Have you?” His voice was like ice.

Thomas’s face twisted. “No! Maybe once, last winter, when we were starving. But not now. Not this time.”

Robert pointed at him. “If I find out you’ve been stealing game again, I’ll throw you out of this house myself.”

Thomas’s temper flared. He knocked over a chair. “You think I’m a liar? You always believe the worst of me. If Maggie were here….”

He stopped. The name hung in the air like smoke.

Neil felt the silence burn. Maggie. The girl cousins had loved, the girl who was gone. Her name was a wound they could not close.

Robert’s jaw tightened. “Enough. She is not here. And fighting about her will not bring her back.”

Thomas’s face went pale. He kicked at the chair again, then turned away, breathing hard.

Neil touched the stone in his pocket, the one his mother gave him before he left Scotland. It felt cool and steady, like a voice from home. He stepped between Robert and Thomas.

“Listen,” Neil said. “We can fight each other all day, but that will not answer the real question. Who put the deer on the door? And why?”

Thomas muttered, “Because they want me gone. They think I’m poaching. They think I’m weak. They think I’m nothing.”

Robert crossed his arms. “Or maybe they want us to cut trees on the slope. Keating is not a man who cares about deer. He cares about money.”

Neil looked at both of them. “Then we must find out the truth. If Thomas is innocent, we need proof. If Keating is behind it, we need witnesses. But shouting and fighting will only help him.”

Thomas kicked at the wall again but softer this time. His anger was cooling into shame. “So what do we do?” he asked.

Robert bent down to the deer. “First, we deal with this. Waste nothing. Even when it comes with hate, we do not waste.”

They carried the body to the shed. The work gave them quiet. Thomas held the antlers while Robert cut. Neil passed the knife when needed. The smell was strong, but the rhythm of the work made it bearable.

When they finished, Robert washed the blood from the door with hot water. The scratched words were faint now, but the marks remained. A scar on the wood, like a scar on the family.

At the table, they ate bannocks and drank hot tea. The food warmed their bodies but not their hearts.

Thomas pushed his cup away. “They think I’m a thief. They think I’m a killer. I’m not.” His eyes were wet, but his voice was hard. “If they want me gone, they’ll have to face me.”

Robert looked at him steadily. “If you act with anger, you will prove them right. If you want to be seen as a man, you must stand steady, not wild.”

Neil spoke softly. “What if this is a test? A test of who we are. Do we answer hate with hate, or with strength?”

Thomas dropped his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You can,” Neil said. “Maggie would want you to.”

Thomas flinched, but he did not argue. He only nodded once, short and sharp.

Robert stood. “I will go to the constable. Neil, you stay here with Thomas. If anyone comes, do not open the door unless you know the boots.”

When Robert left, the house felt smaller. The fire cracked. Thomas sat with his head in his hands. Neil cut kindling, each strike of the axe strong and steady.

Stay away or else, the knife had said.

With each blow of the axe, Neil gave his own answer.
No. No. No. He suddenly realised he was now part of this family.