But Rose was rooted in place—stuck between the past and the present. The only part of her that didn’t seem frozen was her rapidly pounding heart.
Warm softness hit Rose’s legs. The sensation pulled her back to reality. The pungent odor of animals filled her nostrils as she found herself surrounded by the ewes and lambs. The sheep’s eyes looked wild, their mouths open wide as theymaaaed their protest.
“You’re splitting the flock!” Mr.Sinclair yelled again.
“Rose, darling.” Myrtle’s voice was quiet and calm as she softly touched Rose’s arm. “We’re standing in the middle of a bunch of ewes in a pasture. Do you hear them? Feel them?”
Glancing around, Rose realized she was indeed like Moses parting the Red Sea—except that had been a good thing. This wasnot. Sheep seemed to spill out onto the rolling slope behind Rose and Myrtle like ticker tape at a New York parade. Although the ewes and lambs still coming through the pass were not exactly orderly, they were clumped. And Rose was scattering them.
Janet was doing her best to steer the flock as she flapped her arms like an angry albatross. But she could not counteract the obstacle that Rose and Myrtle presented.
Despite her wobbly legs, Rose pushed her way through the flocculent mass. Somehow, she managed to hop over two bucking twin lambs as Myrtle sidestepped a rather massive ewe. Out of breath and with Rose also still shaken from shell shock, they took up their positions by Janet, but it was too late. The terrified ungulates were running amok.
Mr.Sinclair stomped over to Rose, his lips molded into an unforgiving line. Irritation rolled from him in an almost palpable wave. Her own back stiffened. Rose’s armor of blitheness instantly snapped intoplace as her limbs turned from gel back into sturdy muscle and bone. Being cavalier was much preferable to feeling useless.
“I do apologize,” Rose called out. “I’m afraid I was distracted by the lovely conversation I was having about Frest with Mrs.Inkster and Miss Morningstar. I hope I didn’t cause too much of a bother.”
Her attempt at lightness caused Mr.Sinclair’s jaw to tighten to such a degree that the scar along the right side of his face puckered even more. “This might seem like a lark to you, Miss Van Etten, but the rest of us have other work we must be getting to. We do not have time to be chasing sheep all over creation.”
“So no chatting, then?”
Mr.Sinclair narrowed his left eye into a rather impressive glower, making him look more like Odin than his namesake. On the other hand, Rose wouldn’t be surprised if he started hurling thunderbolts in her direction.
“No.” His answer was clipped and not his usual softernay.
“I do believe the sheep startled Miss Van Etten very badly, Mr.Sinclair.” Janet broke into the conversation. “She looked all peelie-wally when they came running toward us. Miss Morningstar was just trying to help her friend by staying by her side. They weren’t nattering once the ewes burst through the hills.”
Although Rose was surprisingly touched by the woman’s defense, she didn’t want anyone on Frest or Hamarray knowing about her shell shock and treating her as some fragile thing to coddle.
“Is that true?” Mr.Sinclair looked at Rose skeptically, and it mollified her a bit that he didn’t think her a ninny, easily frightened bysheep.
Before Rose could assure him that she was not in any way intimidated by fleecy dams and their frolicking babes, Janet answered, “Aye. She was like a statue when they came bearing down on us. You shouldn’t be so harsh on the lass, seeing as you might understand a thing or two about being a peedie bit of a feartie.”
The words, although spoken in soft tones, carried a sting that caused even Rose to wince. If she’d been directly on the receiving end, her response would have been equally cutting. Mr.Sinclair, however, did not anger—not one iota. But the blow had struck him all the same. She could see the frustrated guilt in his uninjured eye, and for one mad moment Rose wanted to reach out to him and tell him that he’d served his people in his own way—aneededway. But just as her fingers began involuntarily lifting, she saw something else in his gaze: concern. For her.
“You needn’t feel like you must help with the herding if the sheep are bothering you, Miss Van Etten.” He spoke without a hint of amusement, but she almost would have preferred being mocked. Land sakes,herbeing afraid of a bleating piece of fluff? She’d dodgedshells.
“I am quite fine, thank you.” She ran her gloved hands over the serviceable skirt that she wore. Her silk Paul Poiret outfit with its floaty pants would have given her more freedom of movement, but the thin, delicate material was hardly appropriate for running up and down hills after livestock. It really was past time for women to be able to buy practical trousers withpockets.
“You are welcome to watch if you would feel more comfortable—” Mr.Sinclair searched her face, and his solicitous scrutiny unsettled her.
“Just point me in the direction of the sheep that you wish me to corral, Mr.Sinclair,” Rose cut in.
Mr.Sinclair’s gaze held hers just a fraction longer, and she stared straight back. Then he gave her a nod—the kind a man would give to another to acknowledge his mettle. A rush went through Rose, her heart swelling at the unspoken recognition in the gesture.
“You and Miss Morningstar can head out toward the western end of the isle and flank the sheep there. I’ll tell you when to start moving forward. You’ll need to coordinate with us islanders.”
“We can do that,” Rose said. After giving him a crisp nod, she lifted up her skirts and tore across the field to get into position. She’d always been the athletic sort, much to her mother’s dismay. On therare occasions that Verity Van Etten had arranged for her daughter to accompany her on society visits, she’d wanted Rose to sit demurely with the other little girls and their dolls instead of racing around with the boys.
“We’ll help the both of you!” Barbara, one of the twins, cried.
“It’ll make more sense once you try it a time or two, Miss Van Etten,” Margaret added gravely as she, too, headed in Rose and Myrtle’s direction.
Hannah joined in, rolling her eyes as she caught up to her youngest sister. “If Miss Van Etten can race automobiles in open-road trials, then I don’t think running after a few sheep will prove difficult.”
“Girls, please simmer down. You’ll startle the flock, and Thorfinn will be calling out instructions soon,” Freya said as she and Mary plodded up to them. Rose, Myrtle, and the Flett girls spread out along the top of the small rise, a quarter or so of the flock spread out on the slope below. All around the rises and hollows of the lower half of Hamarray, the crofters were doing the same until they’d formed a roughly even-spaced perimeter around the sheep.
Little Alexander had not come along with his sisters but instead was standing next to Mr.Sinclair. Every now and again, the boy would cast up a look at his big brother, and his little chest would swell with pride. Even from yards away, Rose could feel the child’s admiration for the man who appeared to be a father figure to him.
