She dragged the heavy end outside and came back for the ponies, taking their reins and leading them outside.
He followed her out and rubbed his jaw. “Looks like quite a job.”
Kristie scowled at him. “Ye are an observant fellow.”
“Wish I could help ye with it,” he muttered.
His frown convinced her of his sincerity. She wished he could be of more help than eating their food and driving her crazy. Kristie sighed and held out the reins to him. “Think ye could lead the ponies to the field?”
“Sure enough.” He took hold of the leather leads.
Kristie lifted the central beam of the plow from the ground with effort. It was heavy and a strain on her back, but she was determined. Careful not to drag it in the dirt and damage it, she led the way around the house, and she nearly walked straight into Moira.
The young woman put her hand to her lips and backed up. “Oh, Lord! Ye gave me a fright!”
Kristie set the back end of the plow to the ground with a puff of air. “Moira, I was not expecting ye. Is yer da needing something?”
“Not a thing.” The young woman’s cheeks flushed, and she touched her chin to her chest. Moira looked up sideways at the outsider with a coy expression. “I thought I might check on Creag to see how he be doing—and to see if my walking stick be serving him well.”
Kristie turned around, trying to keep her mouth shut, though she was ready to send the lass home right then.
The outsider gave Moira a welcoming grin and spoke up. “It must be the reason I be feeling so well today. I thank ye for finding me such a useful crutch. I would like to know from what tree ye got it so that I might thank it too.”
Moira giggled and put her fingers to her lips, smirking like a fool. “Why would ye thank a tree?”
The outsider leaned against his walking stick with a thoughtful expression. “Well, the tree may not hear me, but the fairies who live in its boughs might, and we dinnae want to upset the fairy folk with Beltane coming.”
“Oh, aye.” The young woman nodded in agreement. “I love the festival of fire.”
Kristie cleared her throat to interrupt the conversation. The fields needed to be plowed and sowed if they were to make harvest. She had no patience for this silliness, and watching Moira bat her eyelashes at the outsider was more than she could take.
“So now that ye have determined the fellow is fine, ye best be on yer way. Unless ye came to help, we need to get to the fields,” Kristie said, placing herself in the way of the young woman’s adoration.
Moira tried to peer around Kristie. “If ye be needing anything, ye just let me know, Creag. I am a mighty fine cook. Me da has always said so. Says I will make a lucky fellow happy.”
“Oh Lord,” Kristie muttered.
“What?” Moira asked with a frown.
“Speaking of which”—Kristie placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder—“before Eileanor starts flapping her tongue about ye sniffing ’round the outsider, ye best be heading home. We would not want yer virtue questioned. Then ye have no chance of findin’ a husband.”
“Maybe I already have,” Moira breathed out softly. Then she seemed to absorb everything Kristie had said and retorted, “It be only a matter of time before Eileanor starts talking about ye living under the same roof with him if he be staying. Should ye be worrying about yer own virtue, then?”
“As soon as he is well, he will be on his way. Anyway, I am no longer a young unmarried lass like you, so ye best think about yerself. Be off with ye so we can get on to the chores, or it will be yer house we come ’round to when we are starving in the winter.” Kristie tried to force a smile but felt it sour on her lips.
Moira gave one last look at the outsider and waved before turning around and starting across the field.
Chapter 7
Creag watched Kristie shake her head as Moira sauntered over the fields.
“Ye are not fond of the lass?” he asked.
Kristie turned around and lifted her brow. “She will remain perfectly respectable so long as she keeps herself out of trouble.”
He smirked in response. “Are ye calling me trouble?”
“She may be if ye are not careful.” Her voice rose while she pointed her finger his way. “That young lass is eager to settle down and leave her da’s protection. I dinnae think it would be wise for an outsider to get into trouble with Sacharie when he will only stay on for a short while.”
“Oh, aye.” He nodded and fixed his gaze on her. He couldn’t understand why she was getting so bothered when she’d made it clear she wasn’t fond of him. “I thank ye for yer advice, but ye are getting awfully stirred up over nothing, since I will only be here for a short time, like ye said.”
Kristie glanced at Moira’s silhouette growing smaller before lifting up the heavy end of the plow from the ground and struggling to balance it as she took her first steps forward. As frustrating as she was, it pained him to see her struggle carrying the farming equipment alone. He limped behind her, leading the ponies along and trying to decide if he should help.
Absentmindedly, he asked about something that he’d just observed. “Why is it ye dinnae call me by name?”
She looked over her shoulder to scoff. “Call ye after rocks? I dinnae know why I should be calling ye anything if ye be days away from leaving.”
He shook his head. “Nothing can get into a closed fist.”
Kristie said nothing in response as she continued to lead him slowly into the strip of the field that needed preparing. She set the heavy plow down with a groan and silently hooked it up to the nags’ rigging. Once she was done, she stepped back and frowned.
He watched all of this, growing more and more uncomfortable. Although she was unaware that he was fully healed, he knew, and he didn’t feel it was right to let her go to such efforts on her own. It was an unpleasant predicament. He hoped to remain a little longer to give himself time to recall his past, and he didn’t want his recovery to appear as miraculous as it was. Maybe he could find a middle ground.
Creag touched his knee with his free hand. “It be sore to be sure, but I cannae watch ye try to plow this on yer own when ye have done so much for me already.”
Kristie’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him in silence. “If ye are well enough to help in the field, one might say ye are well enough to go off on yer own.”
He sucked in a slow, steady breath. “Ye could argue that, to be sure. But it seems to me that ye are needing another hand until yer brother returns, and I wish to be useful to ye.”
Creag was relieved to hear her sigh, a clear sign of resignation. She walked up to the curved handles of the plow with a determined grimace. Kristie nodded to the ponies. “Gather their reins and coax them to start. Slowly, now.”
He limped up to the nags and took hold of their leads. He stood and watched her grip the handles of the plow and anchor the metal coulter in the soil.
When she appeared ready, he made a clicking sound at the ponies, and they started moving. The plow lifted up and forward, skimming over the top of the earth. He hobbled backward while he watched, wondering if she’d ever actually done this before.
Kristie’s eyes narrowed, and she put her weight into it, sinking the mouldboard into the earth, and things went better. Bits of grass, roots and stones kept getting clogged behind the coulter, and she called out breathlessly, “Whoa.”
He stopped the animals and came around to take a look. Kristie lifted her skirts so she could kneel and pluck out the clogged bits. While she did that, Creag limped up to the handles of the tool. “This may give me enough to lean on. I could give it a go if ye wish.”
“Oh, aye. If ye can.” She panted in response, glancing up at him. “I had to put all of my weight into it so it would not lift out of the soil.”
“Like so?” He held onto the plow with a tightened grip.
Kristie stood up and went to stand beside him. She pressed her hands onto his shoulder blades, forcing him to hun
ker over the plow. “The ponies may be dragging it, but ye need to be the one forcing it downward. The mouldboard must turn a sheet of earth out from the coulter’s path. Think ye have it?”
He glanced over at her and smirked. “Oh, aye.”
“Lord help me.” Kristie stomped away and went to the ponies to collect the reins. She rubbed the back of her forearm against her brow to wipe away the sweat that had beaded up before she ordered the nags forward. “Come on then, come on!”
There was a lot of starting and stopping throughout the morning. They would trade off as one would get tired behind the plow so they might recover enough to give it a go again. Kristie rolled up her sleeves, and Creag removed his plaid, tossing it over one of the pony’s backs, so he was left wearing only his tunic. Despite the dark skies and the winds blowing hard over the hillside, they were working so hard, their cheeks remained flushed, with sweat dripping from their skin.
“Oy!” A shout cut across the field.
Creag turned to find Jock hurrying over the rutted earth with a smile on his face. When he reached them, he planted his hands on his hips and asked, “Do ye need any help?”
“Are ye not needed back at home, then?” Kristie asked suspiciously. “I dinnae need that auntie of yers coming ’round here blaming me of stealing ye away. Not after she blamed my brother for getting Hendrie into trouble.”
The lad’s face gave it away. One of his cheeks pulled up into an unsure expression. “Wellll, I cannae say that she will not be spitting mad that I snuck away while William is harrowing the fields. But I just get in his way.”
“Sure ye do.” Kristie sighed and looked in the direction of Eileanor and Hendrie’s farm. “Ye are going to be getting me into trouble, are ye not?”
Creag heard the soft tone of her voice when talking with Jock, and he could tell she had a soft spot for him. He liked the lad’s company and tried to persuade her to let him stay. “We could use someone to pull the roots from the plow. Plus, his tales might help the day go by a mite quicker.”
Jock cast a pleased grin toward him and pulled his shoulders back. “That I can do.”
“Oh, that be reminding me,” Kristie said. “I heard the Lord of Ile’s bard will be selecting an apprentice at the All Saints’ Day celebration. Something ye might be up for, I wonder?”
The lad’s face brightened at her news. Then just as quickly, it crumbled into a frown. “Auntie would never let me go. But I thank ye for thinking of me.”
Creag leaned on the plow’s handles, panting for breath and grinning at Kristie. He liked seeing her interact with the lad. Maybe there was more to her than just the prickly exterior.
With Jock’s help, they were able to move at a quicker pace. It was well past midday, getting closer to evening meal when the clouds grew darker yet, and Creag tasted rain on his tongue. They were close to finishing the last of the plowing. He knew she wanted to push through so they could start sowing the crop in the following days. He glanced up when a deep rumble tore through the fabric of the sky.
Kristie called out, “We are almost there!”
Then the first drops of rain began to slap against their skin. Each speck that smacked the earth cracked loudly. Soon, the heavens opened up and a shower poured down around them. The ponies whinnied in protest, so Kristie pulled the ponies onward toward home. Then she slipped on the muddy earth and fell. She lost her grip on the reins and dropped with her hands out before her, which wasn’t enough to keep her chin and nose from sinking into one of the peaked ridges of mucky soil.
The nags stopped in their tracks, and she lay completely still. Droplets of rain continued to tap against his body. Creag watched wide-eyed as she lifted herself up. She paused when snickers joined the sounds of the storm.
He couldn’t help himself. It had to be one of the funniest things he’d ever seen—never mind that he couldn’t remember his past. He was aware of Kristie getting to her feet and turning around. Jock looked up at him with his lips pinched tight and his cheeks dimpled. His eyes said it all. Creag leaned into his walking stick to hold himself upright as he chuckled loudly.
If he had been paying closer attention, he might have noticed Kristie lean down to scoop up a handful of mud and throw it straight at him, but he felt it when a large dollop smacked his shoulder. A spray of mire hit Creag’s cheek and arm. His surprise turned to amusement. He couldn’t contain the wicked grin spreading across his lips.
Jock began laughing hysterically, bracing his knees to get air. His laughter stopped when Creag leaned down and slapped a handful of mud into the lad’s face.
Then it was an all-out war. Mud catapulted through the air in every direction. The ponies started dragging the plow toward home, leaving the three of them behind. Creag couldn’t believe his ears when he heard a giggle break from Kristie’s lips despite her clear determination to remain composed. He was pleased to see her reach for another handful of clay.
“Whatever are ye doing?” a high-pitched voice shrieked. “Kristie, is that ye carrying on like a sow in the mud?”
Kristie straightened up and dropped the handful of muck. It slapped against the ground as she looked at Eileanor through the rain. Her neighbor’s plaid was covering her head and shoulders, and although her face was in shadow, Kristie could see her disapproving stare.
Eileanor held out her hand to Jock and waved him to her. “Come along. I have been looking for ye high and low. William was needing yer help earlier, but ye done run off, ye naughty lad. Ye are a part of this family if ye like it or not, and we need yer help with yer uncle gone—thanks to Kristie’s brother.”
Eileanor shot her a scowl, then glanced at the outsider, and her grimace deepened. “So I expect this be the outsider I have been hearing about? Scruffy. Moira seems to be taken with him, and it appears she is not the only one.”
Eileanor lifted her eyebrow at Kristie and directed a disappointed Jock toward home. Kristie watched the neighbor grab hold of the lad’s elbow and stomp off in the muck. She could only imagine the scolding he’d get. Her annoyance with their neighbor deepened as she imagined all of the things she’d like to say to the woman.
“What flew up her backside and hatched?”
Kristie looked at the mud-covered fellow across from her and pinched her lips together to prevent herself from smiling. “That is not a kindly thing to say of a stranger.”
“That may be, but it is true,” he retorted.
“Aye, that it is,” she answered and shook the sludge from her hands. “We best get the ponies unhitched and back to the byre.”
They walked behind the animals, which were slowly making their way home. The fellow muttered, “I suppose we will not be seeing much of the lad anymore?”
“Likely not,” she answered.
“That be too bad. I am fond of him.”
Kristie nodded, sharing in his sentiment. Jock was pleasant to be around. He might have been a bit off at times about his mam, but she felt compassion for the child. Especially since Eileanor had so little patience for him.
They reached the ponies, and she was surprised when the outsider helped unhitch the plow and remove their collars. He seemed to be healing, which she should have been pleased about. One less worry.
Creag collected his plaid, and the animals trotted off around the home to the byre while he helped Kristie carry the plow back to the protection of the animal shed.
She looked at the state of his muddy tunic, hair and skin. “Ye look a mess.”
He gestured at her. “Ye look worse than me.”
Kristie stared down at herself and knew he was right. “This be too much work for a bucket and cloth. Best wash off in the loch before turning in for our meal.”
She led him through the rain down to the closest shore. The rocky beach was slick, so she moved slowly to avoid falling. She heard his footsteps behind her as she went. If she had been down at the water’s edge with Jean, she might have stripped down and bathed without worry of exposing herself, but she wasn’t. She
could change out of these muddy clothes when she returned to the house, but her face, chest and arms were completely coated.
She put her hand to the low of her back and realized she was missing something and mumbled, “I have gone and lost my dirk in the mud. Lord help me. I am losing everything.”
Kristie knew she could have washed herself in the confines of their home, but for a reason she didn’t understand, she hadn’t wanted to leave him yet. She glanced to her side and saw him come up to the shore and lean down to dip his hands in the water.
Eileanor’s words swirled through her head, stirring up anger once more. It was absurd to suggest that she was as fond of the outsider as Moira was. She did not follow him about like a calf hurrying after its mam for a nip of milk. She was a woman who had already been blessed with marriage and had no interest in tying herself to someone else who could abandon her in death. Kristie did not need the neighbor telling her anything, for it was none of her business.
Kristie sighed and thrust her hands into the loch before rubbing them together. A brown cloud radiated away. The slapping beat of the rain began to soften. Light droplets touched the water’s surface, sending out concentric ripples. Its veneer vibrated as if it were alive, breathing.
She leaned down and lifted her cupped hands to wash her face. A stream of water spilled down her neck and chest. She continued to clean herself until she was startled from her work.
“Ye missed some just there,” the outsider said from an arm’s length away. He pointed at her temple where her hair met her forehead.
She stood with water dripping from her face and blinked at him. He cautiously stepped closer to rub gently at her brow. His touch took her by surprise. Her eyes slid shut involuntarily as a lump formed in her throat. It had been a long time, nearly two years, since she’d felt a man’s hands on her. It was a simple gesture, helping to clean the mud from her face, one that wasn’t inappropriate in nature, but it did something strange to her hardened heart.
Outsider (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 4) Page 8
