Tears for a Tinker Read Online Free PDF

Moore.’ With those words ringing over the still waters of Loch
Ness, she rounded shoulders, laughed loudly like a witch cackling through the flames of a burning cauldron fire, and was gone, clutching her bulging purse.
    At Castle Urquhart, heavy oak tables were covered by blood-dripping cuts of finest beef, lying in mouth-watering heaps.
    ‘Oh, ma wee beauties,’ she said, stroking at the sinews running through the pounds of flesh.
    Bluebottles circled over the meat, but fell dead at one swat from her massive forearm. ‘Deevils o’ disease, dinna so much as glance at ma beef,’ she whispered to several
advancing flies, which took one look at her slit eyes and buzzed away. Beneath the tables a dog growled at a hissing cat over one scrap of meat that had fallen on the ground. Peggy stood hard on
the cat’s tail before sending it into oblivion with a kick.
    ‘What can I get you this fine day, Mistress Moore? Maybe a handful o’ this for stewing?’ The blood-splattered butcher, with his cleaver clutched tightly just in case she
fancied throwing a wallop at him, thought she’d be looking for stew beef, but this wasn’t to her satisfaction, not that day. She’d enough money to afford the finest rump.
    She half-smiled, not taking her greedy eyes off the ruby red flesh, and said, ‘give me this lot’.
    ‘I’ll charge ye dear, for that’s ma finest rump, is that.’
    ‘Are ye saying ah canna pey fer ma grub?’ her eyes narrowed and a growl came from deep within, as she produced the purse thick with money in her clenched hand.
    ‘No way would I bring your guid self down, Peggy, my fine big lass. Yer money is as guid as ony others’,’ he said greedily, catching sight of how much the purse held.
    Instantly the meat was rolled up and pushed inside her deerskin bag, and she hurried away home to cook and gorge before those weary men came back.
    It was quite a distance from the Castle marketplace to her tent. Since she was so heavy, getting home usually took longer for her than for a body of normal frame. Several times she stopped to
lean against a tree and get her breath before moving on.
    Now, let us for a moment sneak back to the tent. Quiet it was, with nobody around. Silent enough to attract a certain accursed cat which was searching for cover to hide out until dark. All
territory was forbidden to him, yet here seemed a place of sanctuary from those death-minded shepherds, in here there was peace. Night would bring him out, refreshed and ready for another kill, but
in here he’d rest. Eyes darting in every direction the beast crept up to the tent. Inside it was near pitch-dark, perfect. One last sniff of the air to check that no human was on his tail,
and in he went, until his body rubbed up against the natural covering of deer skin and bracken at the furthermost end of the tent where Peggy Moore would eventually lay down her body to sleep.
    At long last Peggy stood panting outside her abode. Her weight, added to the bulk of raw meat with her, was all she could cope with, but the burden was forgotten when inside. She thrust her
eager hand into a wooden box and retrieved a large iron pot. Quickly firing up the smouldering embers and adding more sticks to her fire, she soon had a pot ready for the contents of her skin bag.
Sparks hissed and spat as the cold meat met the hot pan. Peggy could hardly contain her desire for food as the aroma curled up her nostrils, sending taste buds into spasms of ecstasy that only a
greed-driven gourie (woman) could experience.
    ‘Lovely, mmmm, my, what a feast I’ll have.’ She squirmed her gigantic wobbling buttocks from side to side, and like an eager kitten toying with a bird she poked a skewer into
the frying flesh. The cooking meat sent smells of delight into every corner of the tent—aye, and the cat smelt it too. Awakened now, he’d been watching as she wobbled, muttering all the
while. He half-closed his yellow eyes and opened keen nostrils. While she