Cainnech, her father’s cooherd, would have scowled in disapproval.He constantly warned her away from the unpredictable animals.
She constantly ignored his advice.
But she currently limited her visits to Saturday morns, when Cainnech took a few hours off to meet his mistress in the village.Then Carenza could roam among the cattle in peace.
She also kept her visits from her father.If the Laird of Dunlop could see her now, he’d lock her in her chamber and throw away the key.
To him, coos were one of two things…
Dangerous beasts with foot-crushing hooves and belly-gouging horns.
Or supper.
But to Carenza, Hamish was an old friend.She’d raised him as a calf.Brushed him.Played with him.Taught him tricks.Comforted him when he’d had to be crogged and gelded.Told him stories she swore he understood.
Carenza wasn’t afraid of Hamish.
She was afraidforhim.
As far as her father knew, his daughter was simply fond of riding.On Saturday morns, she’d saddle her palfrey Leannan and gallop off across the Dunlop land.What he didn’t know was that she always happened to ride to wherever the fold had gone to graze.
The grass was thin now.Snow dusted the tops of the mountains.Soon the cattle would be gathered to the stone-ringed close for the winter.And then…
Hamish nudged Carenza playfully with his nose, leaving a wet trail along her neck.
Carenza captured Hamish’s great head between her hands and scratched behind his ears.As she gazed lovingly into the animal’s enormous eyes, her own eyes welled with tears.
She would miss Hamish.But winter was coming.And sooner rather than later, she had to face the sickening truth.
Her father had explained it to her when she was a wee lass.He’d told her that the six-year-old cattle were always culled.
Never having heard the word, she’d secretly followed him out to the close to see what he meant.She saw a servant leading one of the coos to a stall away from the others.While Carenza watched through a gap in the fence, the man picked up a heavy mallet and swung it at the coo’s head, knocking her to the ground.
Carenza screamed in terror.
She would have run to the animal’s rescue.But her father prevented her.
Upset at her for following him, he scooped Carenza into his arms and strode away from the close.She kicked and pummeled him, begging him to save the coo.But his jaw was set.And when she peered over his shoulder in distress, she saw the servant cut the animal’s throat.
Tears of shock and dismay sprang to her eyes.A wail of unimaginable woe escaped her.She collapsed against her father’s chest, sobbing at first in horror, then with forlorn hopelessness.
He tried to soothe her.He tried to explain that it was the coo’s time.That she’d lived a good, long life.That the clan would starve if they didn’t have meat for the winter.He assured her that the servant had done his best to make the coo’s death quick and painless.And that Carenza would have to learn about sacrifice and the cycle of life and death.
But the only powerful message she received from that day was that “cull” meant “kill.”
Hamish snorted and nudged Carenza’s shoulder, startling her from the horrific memory.
She smiled.“O’ course I brought ye a treat.”
She rummaged in the satchel she’d hung from Leannan’s saddle, pulling out one of the shriveled apples she’d found among the fallen leaves in the orchard.She sliced the fruit into pieces with her dagger, distributing them to the coos, one by one.
The coos were exceptionally polite.They waited their turn, even when she had to return to the satchel for more apples.
Eventually the supply was exhausted.Most of the cattle, understanding she had no more, began to wander away.
Hamish remained.He liked Carenza’s scratches and conversation as much as the treats she brought.
“I’m goin’ to miss ye, lad,” she said, letting her eyes brim over with tears as she brushed the hair back from Hamish’s sweet face.“I’m goin’ to miss your gentle eyes.And your curious nature.The way ye always trot up to keep me company and listen to my stories.How ye protect the new wee calves from the other coos.”
