“So how do you mean to woo her?” asked Nigel.
“Why do ye need to ken the how of it?” Iain asked.
“One of us could, weel, lend a hand now and then.”
“Tell tales of your great bravery or extraordinary resourcefulness,” drawled Matthew.
Robbie choked on a laugh then struggled to look innocent when Iain looked at him. “I think we could come up with a few things,” he murmured.
“Please, and I mean this most sincerely, dinnae try to help me.”
Iain laughed at their expressions, an odd mix of annoyed and crestfallen, and rolled the small cart out of the stable. He walked out of the compound to dump the contents of the cart onto the growing pile already there. Then he forked a heavy cover of hay over the whole lot. Not one of the more pleasant duties on a farm but they all took their turn.
Something else he and Emily did not share, the knowledge of hard work. She might not be a lady of the sort of Lady Vera, but he doubted she had ever done any true hard labor. There was a good chance that, until she had come to this country, she had rarely been around the ones who worked hard for their living. He briefly thought of how she had been scrubbing their house and decided that, although it was undoubtedly hard work, it was not really the same thing. For one thing, she would never have worried about smelling like manure or reek of sheep.
After he put the cart and shovel away he headed into the house. He needed a change of clothes and a wash. Mrs. O’Neal was just stepping out of the front parlor and she scowled at him. Iain just smiled and, before she could begin talking to him, hurried up the stairs. He had already heard her lecture from his brothers and was not about to let her corner him for one.
Once clean of the smell of the stables, Iain headed out to check on the flock. The Powell brothers were excellent shepherds but he did not want to become one of those who only cared for the money his stock brought him. He wanted to be involved in it all, from the lambing to the shearing. He had plans to improve the quality of his sheep and the wool they produced for him. Iain dismounted near to Owen, who was watching the sheep.
“How is the wooing going, boyo?” asked Owen, and he grinned when Iain scowled at him. “That well, eh?”
“I havenae begun yet.”
“Why not?”
“Needed to do some planning. Never wooed a lass before. Want to do it right.” He rubbed the back of one of the sheep. “This lass is getting a bit old, aye.”
“She will not be lambing again, I think. Good girl though. She keeps the others calm when it is needed.” Owen rubbed the ewe’s head. “If you are looking for mutton though . . .”
“In no rush for it. Hate picking one out for slaughter. Always have even though I have no trouble filling my belly with the meat.”
“I will let you know when we have one.”
“Fair enough.” He checked over one of the lambs and then stood up. “Still pondering a fence. Ken it willnae solve the problem but think it might make it more difficult for the wolves.”
“Well”—Owen rubbed his chin—“cannot say that would be a bad thing. Been so long since we had anything to do with wolves I have little knowledge or experience with them.” Owen looked at Iain and slowly smiled. “Just why are you out here? I don’t think you really have anything important to discuss about the flock.”
“Only one thing I feel ye need to ken. If I decide to build the fence in what could be a vain attempt to keep the wolves away, I will have to get a loan. I will put the flock up as collateral.”
“Your flock.”
“I was trying to find out how ye feel about that.”
“As I said, it is your flock. And what else would you put up? Your house? Your land? No, that would not do. And there is also the small fact that I know you will do everything you are able to do to pay it off in time so the flock will not be in any real danger. Trouble can come though, no doubt of that. Warning you though, you may lose the flock but me and David ain’t leaving our cabin.” He grinned.
Iain laughed and slapped the man on the back. “Fair enough.”
“So go and start your wooing.”
“Shut up, Owen,” Iain said as he walked over to his horse and swung himself up in the saddle, then rode off to the sound of Owen laughing.
* * *
Emily watched Neddy running around with Mrs. O’Neal’s boys and smiled. He had never really had anyone to play with before. Rory and Donald were older than him but never pushed him away or ignored him. The friendship was slowly helping Neddy with his speech, too. She wished she knew some women with a child closer to his age though. It was always good if a child had children of an age with him to play with.
“Here,” Mrs. O’Neal said, holding a glass of cold tea out for her. “Best to have a drink now and then when you sit in the sun.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, and smiled at Mrs. O’Neal when she sat down beside her on the bench. “I was just thinking of moving into the shade so this is very welcome.”
