“I appreciate your willingness to withhold what were undoubtedly brow-raising disclosures and pieces of advice.”
As Camilla took to grinning again, they reached Meemaw’s cabin, the front porch filled with ladies from the sewing bee, all of whom immediately sent him knowing looks as he took to greeting each and every one of them, while Camilla took to pretending she didn’t notice the looks, saying a moment later that she needed to get down to the business of mucking out the chicken coop.
She’d barely disappeared around the side of the cabin before Aunt Elma pushed herself from a rocking chair and shook a finger his way. “Don’t jist stand there, boy. Git movin’. Your little lady is fixin’ to clean out the coop, and given her penchant for disasters, I say you should go off and help her.”
“She’s not going to let me help her after you questioned her grit.”
Aunt Elma gave her nose a rub. “She told you ’bout that, did she?”
“She did, which suggests that maybe you would benefit from seeking her counsel regarding proper etiquette like Nems and a few other men are.”
“A few other?” Aunt Elma said, releasing a cackle. “Boy, every man ’round these parts is clamorin’ to get your little lady’s advice.” She leaned closer to him. “Some of them, I have to tell you, are interested in more than jist advice cuz she seems to have charmed every male over the age of ten around here, and perhaps evencharmed the young’uns as well, since she sure does seem to have a way with children.”
“I haven’t seen her with any children yet.”
“If you play your cards right, you’ll have a few of your own with your little lady ’fore you know it.”
Not wanting to dwell on the image that had just sprung to mind of Camilla holding a baby that was a mix of her and him, not when he was being watched by ladies who seemed to think it was their mission in life to hand out advice whether their recipients wanted it or not, Owen settled for clearing his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, but ... why is it that Camilla allows you to get away with calling her ‘little lady’ when she got annoyed with me for doing it?”
“Don’t be daft, boy. That’s on account I’m a female, but no sense lingerin’ here since me and the ladies are going to hie ourselves off to the chicken coop, seein’ as how Camilla’s gonna need some suggestions about how best to clean it.”
“She shouldn’t be cleaning out the coop at all.”
“Every country girl knows how to clean out a coop.”
Knowing he really had no choice but to traipse along with the ladies who were now moseying off the porch and heading toward the back of the cabin where Meemaw kept her chickens, Owen took Aunt Elma’s arm and helped her down the steps, then walked with her around the cabin, coming to a stop when he caught sight of Camilla, who was already in the coop, but wasn’t cleaning it. Instead, she was running around, scattering chickens as she ran, a rooster that went by the name of Harvey in hot pursuit.
“Don’t just stand there, Owen,” Camilla yelled. “I can’t stop running to open the door, as that would allow this fiend to catch me.”
Owen was in motion a second later, sprinting to the chicken coop and throwing open the door, Camilla dashing through it a second later.
Before he could slam the door shut, though, Harvey charged out and took off after Camilla, who was scrambling up a pile offirewood stacked in Meemaw’s yard, Camilla releasing a bit of a shriek when Harvey fluttered his way up to join her.
“I thought roosters couldn’t fly,” she yelled, edging away from a rooster that was now crowing up a storm.
“They don’t really fly—more like propel themselves upward for short distances—but now isn’t the time to discuss roosters. Just jump,” he called after he reached the firewood and held out his arms. “I’ll catch you.”
To his surprise, she didn’t hesitate to jump, landing in his arms a blink of an eye later, where he promptly pulled her close and took off across the lawn, passing Meemaw on the way, who said something about utter madness before she began running after a rooster that was now chasing Gladys, but a rooster that was also now being chased by El Cid.
“I really hope El Cid doesn’t catch Harvey,” he said as he came to a stop a safe distance from where all the chasing was still going on and set Camilla on her feet. “He’s Meemaw’s favorite rooster.”
“He’s definitely not mine,” Camilla muttered, rubbing a hand over an arm that was now sporting a welt.
“He pecked you?”
“He did, and after I saw something stuck to his leg, which I thought he would appreciate me getting unstuck, but, no, he started attacking me the instant I reached for him.”
Owen tilted his head. “What was stuck to his leg?”
“It looked like a piece of paper, all rolled up and what you’d expect to find on a carrier pigeon.” She frowned. “Now that I think about it, there were other pieces of paper stuck in odd places in the coop as well, most of them in the henhouse where I was supposed to collect the eggs, and...” Her eyes took to flashing. “Oh no they didn’t” was all she said before she began marching across the lawn, evidently unconcerned that Harvey could still be on the loose.
“Might want to stay back for a minute whilst Beulah gets Harvey settled,” Aunt Elma called, moving to block Camilla fromwhere she now seemed determined to return to a chicken coop she’d only recently escaped from.
“I need to see what’s tied to Harvey’s leg,” Camilla said.
Aunt Elma shot a look at Owen. “You best be talkin’ some sense into that girl, boy. Harvey done took a dislike to her, so he ain’t gonna want her lookin’ at his leg, ’specially when what might be attached to it ain’t gonna be taken the right way, what with Camilla being in a questionable state after sufferin’ a bear tussle and then a rooster one.”
“What’s attached to Harvey’s leg, Aunt Elma?” Owen asked.
