Kilt Dead Read Online Free PDF

massed bands to the sheepdog trials took
place.
    Along with the chatter, laughter, and occasional cheers
of the crowds, bagpipes skirled. Now and again Liss picked
out a few stray notes of a reel or strathspey being played
by the lone piper assigned to accompany the dancers. She
was too far away to see the stage set up for that competition and thought that was probably just as well. Watching
young girls do what she no longer could would be difficult.
    Distance didn’t help, however, when she recognized
the current tune as “The Battle of the Somme” She’d
danced to it on dozens of stages just like the one at the
other end of the fairgrounds. A flash of memory assaulted
her with painful clarity. She was nine years old and wearing Arisaidh dress, an outfit that had evolved as a sort of
national costume for female dancers after the organizers of the Aboyne Highland Games in Scotland refused to
allow women to wear the kilt. Liss’s version of Arisaidh
dress consisted of a gathered skirt and a green velvet
jacket that laced up the front. A plaid in MacCrimmon
colors was attached to the waistband at the back and
came up and over her right shoulder to fasten to the jacket
with a brooch that displayed her clan crest. She moved
gracefully and energetically with the music, feeling no
pain, easily beating out the competition in the Scottish
lilt.

    “Liss?”
    Sherri’s voice brought Liss back to the present with a
jolt. Feeling as if someone had just doused her with cold
water, she shivered and had to take a moment to reorient
herself.
    “Do you need to sit?” Sherri’s worried gaze fixed on
Liss’s hip-shot stance.
    Liss straightened abruptly. She was not supposed to
favor her left leg. Shifting position and gears, she forced
a smile. “I’m fine.”
    She was, too. Keeping busy was the best cure for any
ailment and the morning’s flood of customers had resumed. Liss sold a cashmere scarf while Sherri rang up a
pewter figurine of a bagpiper and two kilt pins.
    “I want that,” said a young man in shorts and a t-shirt
decorated with a Scottish lion. He pointed to a small dagger, silver mounted and hand carved, in its own leather
sheath.
    “Do you know the traditions associated with the sgian
dubh?” Liss asked as she wrapped the knife. “Sgian dubh
translates as `black dagger’ and in the old days warriors
believed it should never be drawn and returned to its
scabbard without spilling blood. Later, when the English
passed laws prohibiting Scots from carrying weapons, they
exempted the sgian dubh from the ban. Their reasoning was that one of these little knives was only big enough for
a Scot to slit his own throat with, and that was a good
thing.”

    “TMI, lady,” the young man said. “I’m buying it to use
as a letter opener.”
    “Too much information,” Liss murmured when he was
gone. Granted, not everyone found Scots trivia as fascinating as she did, but why would someone attend a Scottish festival if he didn’t have any interest in Scotland’s
history and traditions?
    “Only his opinion,” Sherri said. “Don’t let him get you
down”
    “No, he’s probably right. I do go on. Do me a favor? If
I start to babble again, smack me”
    “I think you should babble all you like. You really
know this stuff cold.”
    “That doesn’t mean other people want to hear it.”
    “Hey, when you’re passionate about something, you
have to share, right?”
    A new customer arrived and began flipping through a
box of Scottish-themed bumper stickers. “You got any
more of these?” he asked Sherri, holding up one that read
“Old Pipers Never Die. Their Bags Just Dry Up “”
    “Another of Ned’s selections,” Sherri whispered before she dutifully trotted over to help out.
    Liss turned her attention to a woman examining a row
of figurines piper, drummer, soldier each six-and-ahalf inches tall and all in Highland dress. She blinked in
surprise when she