Little House in the Highlands: Martha's Scottish Pioneer Story - A Classic Series Chapter Book for Kids (Ages 8-12)

Little House in the Highlands: Martha's Scottish Pioneer Story - A Classic Series Chapter Book for Kids (Ages 8-12)

Expanding the the classic American pioneer saga from the award-winning Little House series, this prequel follows Laura's great-grandmother, Martha . This middle grade novel is an excellent choice for tween readers in grades 5 to 6, especially during homeschooling. It’s a fun way to keep your child entertained and engaged while not in the classroom. It’s 1788, and six-year-old Martha lives in a little stone house in Glencaraid, Scotland. Martha’s father is Laird Glencaraid, and the life of a laird’s daughter is not always easy for a lively girl like Martha. She would rather be running barefoot through the fields of heather than acting like a proper lady! But between lessons, Martha always finds time to play on the rolling Scottish hills. It's 1788 and Martha lives in a little stone house in Glencaraid, Scotland. Her father is Laird Glencaraid, which means Martha must behave like a young lady even when she would much rather run around the Scottish hillside! Melissa Wiley, the author of the Charlotte Years and the Martha Years series, has done extensive research on early-nineteenth-century New England life. She lives in Virginia with her husband, Scott, and her daughters, Kate, Erin, and Eileen. Little House in the Highlands By Melissa Wiley HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright © 2007 Melissa Wiley All right reserved. ISBN: 9780061148170 Chapter One The Friendly Valley Loch Caraid was a small blue lake tucked into a Scottish mountain valley. On its shore were a half dozen cottages that had no names and one stately house that did. It was called the Stone House, and a little girl named Martha Morse lived there with her family many, many years ago. The name of the valley was Glencaraid. That meant "Friendly Valley," and Loch Caraid meant "Friendly Lake." The people who lived in the valley had a story about those names. One summer evening, when it was just cool enough for a fire made of peat grass to flicker on the hearth, Martha heard the story from her mother. Martha's three brothers and her one sister were downstairs in the kitchen begging plums from the cook. Her father was busy at his writing table. Father was laird of the estate of Glencaraid, and he had important letters to write. So just for now, Martha had Mum all to herself in the cozy corner beside the hearth of Mum and Father's big bedroom. The scratching of Father's feather pen was a pleasant accompaniment to Mum's story and the soft whirring of her spinning wheel. "It was many hundreds of years ago," Mum was saying, "that a man named Edward MacNab caught his first glimpse of the loch from high above on the mountainside." "MacNab!" Martha said. "But we're MacNabs!" "Aye." Mum nodded. "That we are. You have MacNab blood on both sides, for your father's grandfather married a MacNab girl, and my own mother was of that clan. Although your name be Morse, my lass, you're more MacNab than aught else." "Is your mother in the story?" Martha wanted to know. Mum laughed. "Och, nay! This happened long years before my mother was even dreamed of, or her mother, or her mother. Now--shall I go on?" "Aye!" Martha nodded, her long red curls bouncing on her shoulders. She scooted her stool closer to Mum so that she could hear better above the spinning wheel's hum. Beneath Mum's fingers golden-brown flax fibers twisted into one long, spider-thin thread. The peat fire glowed and crackled. Even though it was summer, the mountain wind carried a chill to the valley at night. Mum's tale spun out above the thread. Edward MacNab, she told Martha, had been traveling for a very long time. He was bone-tired and hoped to see the smoke of a chimney in the valley below, for he had a longing to spend the night in a warm bed. But the evening was misty and dim. All Edward could see of the valley was the dark water of the lake at the foot of the mountains. In the gloomy light it looked exactly like a mouth waiting to swallow anyone who dared climb down. Not far from the lake were two little ponds that looked just like two angry, staring eyes. Edward MacNab shuddered and gave a low whistle. "'Tis no a friendly sort of a place, that!" he said. He spoke aloud, for he thought there was no one around to hear. But he was wrong. He was not alone. A water fairy lived in the lake, and she had wandered onto the mountain that evening to gather mist from the rocky crags. When she saw Edward, she wrapped some shreds of mist around her so she wouldn't be seen. And she would have stayed hidden, if only he had spoken more wisely--or not at all. "But it is ever the gift and the curse of a MacNab to speak the thoughts that pop into his mind," Mum told Martha. "Your father has it, and so do you, my bold wee lass. As soon as you could speak, you were saying things aloud that others would only dare to think. Never will I forget the first time you met auld Laird Alroch. Marched right up to him, you did, and asked if it was true he was bald as an egg under his wig!" "But what abou