The Shepherd's Betrothal

by Lynn A. Coleman

  He looked down at the basket. “Me funds have been transferred into the bank now. Thank ye for the kind offer but I’m fine.”

  “May I explain?”

  His eyelids slid down over his piercing blue eyes, then he nodded.

  “There are a couple of sandwiches, some fruit, cookies and a pint of fresh milk to wash it all down. Please,” she said, picking up the basket and offering it to him.

  He accepted it as if it were infested, then extended his hand toward the yard with a forced politeness. “Where shall we sit?”

  “There’s a table and benches in the garden where Richard and Grace eat some of their meals.”

  “Very well.”

  Hope stepped forward toward the picnic table and gripped her sides. God give me strength. Ian treated his dogs graciously…but her, not so much. She couldn’t blame him. “As I said, I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry, there isn’t an easy way to put this other than I didn’t want to marry you.”

  There, she’d said it. It wasn’t very pretty but she’d admitted the truth. She had other dreams and desires, including falling in love with a man before she committed to live the rest of her life with him.

  Ian gazed at her with those compelling eyes. “Ye letter stated as much. I came to America to begin me new life. I am the third son and as such I shall not inherit much land. In America I am able to have the land me sheep will need. I did not come for ye.”

  Hope swallowed, closed her eyes and calmed herself. “I know I’m not doing this well but you have to understand, in America we pick our own spouses.” She opened her eyes. “And, well, I don’t…didn’t… I guess I don’t like being told what to do.” She paused for a moment, collected her thoughts and continued. “I hope you will forgive me for sending you such a letter.”

  Ian stared at the basket of food then glanced back at Hope. “Are ye wanting me to marry ye now?”

  “No, of course not, no! I’m sorry. I only wanted you to know the truth. My parents didn’t know that I’d sent you the letter, and after you arrived I told them, but this does not concern you.”

  “I am no longer bound to ye?”

  “No, ye are not,” she said, slipping into his brogue, the same as her parents’. “Sorry—you are not.”

  Ian smiled. “I trust ye will find a good man one day.”

  “Thank you, that is most kind. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Ian shook his head. “Ye did not hurt me.”

  Hope knitted her eyebrows. Right, and it snows in Florida. “What will you do now?”

  “I purchased some land today. I’ll be working on it for a while and then I’ll purchase some sheep. I’m a shepherd.”

  “Whose land, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “William Sanders’s. It’s a fine piece of land. It needs work but it has good grassland and roots to feed me livestock. Unfortunately, the agreement doesn’t include a house. But the barns and outer buildings will be mine.”

  Hope relaxed. He was not as angry or as hurt as she’d expected him to be. “Are those sheepdogs?”

  “Border collies. But yes, they work the sheep. Although the Irish sheepdog might do better in this Florida heat. They have less fur.”

  Hope stood up. “I’ll let you eat your meal in peace. Again, I am sorry.…”

  He nodded. “Good day, Miss Lang.”

  She could feel the tension in the air between them, but she knew there was nothing else to say. “I’m happy you found some land. God’s blessings on you, Mr. McGrae.”

  “And on ye, Miss Lang.”

  Hope stepped up into her carriage and drove off. A weight had been lifted.

  So why did she still feel burdened?

  Chapter 2

  The boards in the wagon rattled. Ian slowed the horse down. A two-person buggy with a black canopy approached from the opposite direction, driven by a woman. Ian scooted over to the right. As the wagon drew closer he saw a crown of red hair. Ian’s hands tightened on the reins. Hope?

  It had been a couple of days since he last saw her. She was a rare beauty with her red hair, green eyes and porcelain skin. Ian couldn’t understand his mixed emotions regarding Hope. She could have been his…but neither of them had wanted the betrothal. Not that he’d confessed his own desire to end it.

  The oncoming carriage slowed to a stop alongside his. The woman was not Hope, but an older version of her. This could be none other than Mrs. Sally Lang.

  “Good morning…Mr. McGrae?” Mrs. Lang greeted him with a wave and a smile. “Hope told me ye purchased the Sanderses’ place.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Lang?” He wanted to ask why she was out here. Was she trying to reactivate the betrothal?

  “Aye, I did,” he responded instead.

  “It’s a fine day.” She glanced at the back end of his wagon. “Are ye buildin’ something?”

  “A room in the barn for a place to stay on me land.”

  “Aye, ’tis a good thing to be close to yer work. I’ve been out visiting with Rosemarie Hastings.”

  “I met her and her husband. They be kind folk.”

  “That they be, Mr. McGrae. I won’t keep ye. Have a good day.”

  “And ye, Mrs. Lang.” She jiggled the reins and the horse obeyed.

  Ian turned and watched as she drove past. The Langs were a curious lot. Ian took the reins and commanded the horse forward. Why did Mrs. Lang’s apparent ease at conversing with him bother him? After all, she didn’t know that he had planned on breaking the betrothal, as well.

  Father, I don’t understand. Help me get past this. Help me figure out why I’m reacting with such feelings…

  Back at the property, William Sanders came over and gave him a hand unloading the wagon. “The wife and I were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner this evening.”

  “Thank ye, that is most kind, but I’ll be working ’til the sun goes down.”

  “We can postpone dinner until then.”

  “Thank ye. A home-cooked meal would be appreciated. Thank yer wife, too, please.”

  William nodded. “What are you working on now?”

  “I’m going to fashion a room of some sort in the barn so I won’t need to keep paying room and board at the Seaside.”

  William Sanders nodded. “I’m sorry the house didn’t come with the agreement.”

  “Ye gave me a fair price for the land without the house, I have no complaints. But I must be a wise servant with me funds. I shall not be making a profit for a couple of years, so I must be economical.”

  William smiled. “You are a smart young man. I wish I’d been as wise when I was your age. Good day, sir.”

  “Good day, and thank ye for the help.” Ian went back to work unloading the wagon.

  By the end of the day he had put his tools away, washed up and joined the Sanderses in their kitchen for a hearty fried chicken dinner.

  “This be some of the best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten, Mrs. Sanders.” In truth, he’d only had it once before, only just recently in St. Augustine. He was learning about the different foods in the area. “And these black-eyed peas… I’ve never had the like.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McGrae.”

  “Son, you’ll have to try grits next.”

  Ian chuckled. “Mrs. Arman made some cheese grits this morning. They were all right.”

  William laughed. “I’m sure your mother had more ways to cook mutton and lamb than most of us do here.”

  “For certain.” Ian wiped his mouth with his napkin. “If you’ll forgive me, I must get back to the inn.”

  Mrs. Sanders smiled. “Thank you for visiting with us.”

  Ian stood to go. “Before you leave, may I ask you something?” William inquired.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you mind if we gathered a group to help you build the room in the barn?”

  Ian cocked his head. “What do ye mean?”

  “We’d host an event. We can plan a picnic. The men will build. And the women will cook a
nd sew up some curtains and bedding for you, as well.”

  Ian hesitated. A small room wouldn’t take him too long on his own. On the other hand, he didn’t want to insult the Sanderses by refusing their offer. He shifted his weight and Conall and Tara sat upright. “I don’t believe I could afford to feed a large group.”

  “Nonsense, you don’t pay for the food. Everyone chips in. You’re the honored guest, and we’d come to support you.”

  Ian had heard of groups helping others build their homes, and he guessed this would be a similar event. He rubbed his chin. “I suppose it would be fine.”

  “Good! Then we’ll plan it for this Saturday. In fact, if you have the funds for the materials, we could probably gather enough men to build you a small house rather than a room in the barn. Think on it, son.”

  Ian nodded. “I shall. Thank ye.”

  “Mable and I will take care of everything. You have the plans drawn up and the supplies here and everyone else will take care of the rest.”

  “Are ye certain?”

  “That I am, son, that I am.” William Sanders beamed. Ian didn’t know exactly what William was so happy about, but reasoned it gave the man pleasure to come to the aid of another.

  Farewells expressed, Ian found himself walking back to the Seaside in the dark, his mind swirling with the generous offer. The dogs kept pace at his side. The moonlit sky bathed the white coral sands of the road in cotton-soft light. A contented sigh escaped his lips. “St. Augustine seems to be the right place for me after all, Lord.” He wondered if Hope would be among those who would come to help.

  * * *

  Hope’s family received word of the Saturday building party for Ian McGrae. Father and her brother Gabriel would be lending a hand, and she and her mother would work with the sewing circle and cook meals. Mrs. Sanders had arranged every detail. It seemed to Hope that Mr. McGrae had endeared himself to the elderly couple.

  Friday night she and Gabe brought over some tables and chairs, as well as some concrete blocks and a steel grate for a grill top. The Hastingses were donating a side of beef and the cooking had already started early that morning.

  The smell of slow-cooking meat filled the evening air. “I’ll work all day for some of that barbecue,” Gabe said.

  “You will, brother.” Hope chuckled as they got down from the wagon and started to unload the tables.

  “Let me give ye a hand.” Hope’s back stiffened at the sound of a now familiar voice. “Miss Lang, why are ye here?” Ian asked, close enough now to see them clearly in the evening light, the edge in his voice unmistakable. Gabe glanced in her direction and watched as Mr. McGrae approached.

  Hope swallowed her pride and remembered her manners. “Mr. McGrae, this is my brother, Gabe. You met him many years ago when you were young fellas in Ireland.”

  Last night her parents had shared the details of the arrangement with Ian McGrae’s parents. His parents wanted to pay her parents for the food and supplies they’d given the McGraes when they left Ireland for America, so they suggested an arranged marriage between their children.

  “Hello.” Gabe extended his hand.

  Ian shook the proffered hand and then went to the back of the wagon without offering to assist Hope down from the carriage. Instead, Gabe came to her rescue.

  Hope walked over to the barbecue pit and smoker where her friend Mercy’s older brother, Jack Hastings, was working. She needed distance from Mr. McGrae before she said something unsociable. “Smells great.”

  Jack stood up. “My stomach’s already doing flips. It’s good to see you, Hope.”

  “Thanks. I heard Mercy and the baby are doing well.”

  Jack smiled. “They are. They’ll be coming next month for a couple of weeks.”

  “Your parents must be so excited.”

  Jack chuckled. “Yes, but my wife is due next month so Mother will have her hands full. Speaking of which, I’m wondering if you might lend me a hand. I’d love to surprise Diane with a new dress after the baby is born.”

  “I’d be happy to help.”

  “Next time I’m in town I’ll leave some money at the mercantile for you to purchase whatever you need.”

  Hope smiled. “Your mother must be beside herself.” She knew how much Rosemarie Hastings loved her grandchildren. She wondered if her mother would have the joy of having grandchildren one day. Gabe didn’t seem to be interested in seeking out a wife anytime soon, and she certainly wouldn’t be getting married for a while, seeing as how she was planning to marry a man she loved. Love took time, or so she guessed.

  She watched as Gabe and Ian brought the tables over toward a clearing illuminated by lanterns. “Has Mr. McGrae decided if he’s building a house or a room in the barn?” she asked Jack.

  “A small house. Room enough for a bed, sitting room and small kitchen.”

  Hope nodded.

  “May I have a word with ye, Miss Lang?” Ian asked as he and Gabe came toward the fire.

  “Yes, sir.” Hope stepped toward Ian, wondering nervously what he could possibly want to talk about.

  He escorted her back to the wagon. “I must ask ye for forgiveness. I spoke harshly with ye when ye arrived and I must apologize.”

  Hope nodded. “I understand.”

  “I appreciate yer forgiveness but I do question me behavior. It was not right, and I seem to say everything with an edge when I see ye. I am sorry. And I will try to refrain from such poor behavior in the future.”

  She reached out to lay a comforting hand on his forearm, but thought better of it. “You are forgiven, Mr. McGrae. I hope one day you will forgive me.”

  Ian rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps that is me problem. I shall pray about it during me evenin’ prayers.”

  “Get some rest, Mr. McGrae. Tomorrow will be a long, hard day but it will produce so much blessing.”

  Ian smiled, and his blue eyes flashed in the lamplight. A woman could get lost in those eyes. If only he didn’t look at her with such…what? Contempt? No, disapproval, disappointment even. The wound in Ian McGrae ran deep.

  “Good night, Miss Lang.”

  Gabe came up. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow morning,” Gabe said to Ian as Hope climbed up into the wagon.

  Father, give me strength to get through tomorrow. Hope wondered how many of her friends knew of her breaking off her betrothal to Mr. Ian McGrae. Then again, how many even knew she’d been betrothed? She’d kept that a secret from just about everyone. Once the single ladies of St. Augustine get their eyes on him, she told herself, he’ll find a spouse without much trouble at all.

  Perhaps then he’ll be able to forgive me, Lord.

  Chapter 3

  Hope tried to rest and utterly failed. Most of the night she found herself tossing and turning. She’d even gotten up once or twice and gone to the kitchen. Why did she bring out such anger in Ian McGrae? Of course, that was a foolish question. She knew why.

  What could she do to not irritate him anymore? Yes, he had apologized, which only showed that she really had offended him.

  She’d gone back and forth all night as to whether or not to attend the building party. Perhaps it would be best if she stayed home. Her parents would understand. At least she hoped they would understand. Hadn’t she brought enough grief into Ian McGrae’s life already?

  Hope moaned and rolled over into her pillow. The sun would be rising in an hour. Her father and brother would be leaving at that time. She and her mother did not have to arrive until a couple of hours later. Several of the women were talking about quilting a blanket for Mr. McGrae. While she had helped with quilting in the past, it felt too intimate of a project to be a part of with regard to Ian McGrae.

  At last, the weariness of the hour took over and she fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion.

  Later, the gentle touch of her mother’s hand on her shoulder stirred her. “Mother, what time is it?”

  “Ten o’clock.”<
br />
  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, I overslept.”

  Her mother laughed. “Darlin’, ye more than overslept. This is the second time I’ve tried to wake ye. Care to tell me what kept ye up most of the night? I heard ye in the kitchen.”

  “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “A little, but that’s the way of a mum. So tell me, what be on your mind?”

  “Ian.”

  “Ah, ye fancy him then?”

  “No, not that,” Hope insisted a bit too quickly. “Well, he is rather handsome. But that isn’t the problem. Well, maybe a little. No, it has to do with these emotions I evoke in him. His words were cutting and harsh when he first spoke to me. Not that I blame him. After all, he did come all the way from Ireland and…well, you know. Now it seems he can’t be near me without getting angry or upset.”

  “Ah. Well, there is only one thing ye can do and that is to be full of grace and compassion when he is angry. Turn the cheek, as the Bible says. If he be a good Christian man he’ll give his feelings to the Good Lord to handle.”

  “But Mum, how can he forgive me? I was horrible to him, to you, to Father.”

  Her mother took her hand. “Hope, ye need to forgive yourself before ye can expect anyone else to forgive ye.”

  “I know you are right.” Hope shook her head. “I thought I was making the right decision. But the fact that I hid that I wrote the letter shows that I knew it was wrong.”

  Her mother paused, looked down at her hands then back at Hope. “Love is a difficult thing. There is the high excitement of passion, and that is good in its proper place. But, like we read in the Bible, ‘charity suffereth long, and is kind…it doth not behave itself unseemly.’ Ye need to love thyself, Hope, and trust in God’s forgiveness for not discussing your desires to break off the betrothal. You know yer father and I forgive ye, but ye need to forgive yourself.”

  Hope closed her eyes. “You are right, Mum. Thank you.”

  “Ye are welcome. Now, I must return to the building party. Ye are welcome to come or stay at home.”