by Stobie Piel
It came to life with a squeak, and has been my most vigorous daughter ever since. Miren has named her Scottish Melody, and calls her Melly for short. Nathan gave my sons and other daughter strange names, of too many sounds to remember. Miren has shortened them to such words as Mo, Nav, AI, and Patch.
Muffin has been allowed to visit my litter twice now. She was surprisingly respectful, and even attempted to clean Melody when she squirmed from beneath me.
Nat plays with my puppies for much of the day. We all go outside into the meadow and relax in the sun. Flip attends me daily, but his main interest is instructing them in herding methods. It pains me to watch.
Mo is the worst. He aimed first at a butterfly, but as soon as he saw Blossom and the flock, his little eyes glimmered with that look I know all too well. A sheepdog's fixation. There's nothing to be done about it, once it's begun.
I have more important considerations. Miren is getting fat. Only in the stomach, so far, but there is no denying her waist has expanded. Nathan seems pleased, and pats her stomach often. Nat pats her stomach, too. Had I known that a bulkier female attracted males earlier, I could have saved much trouble by urging her to eat more.
Miren sat on the grass beside Molly and her puppies. Nathan led Nat on his new Shetland pony, Simon, but the pony balked in favor of grass. Father Davies and another monkwalked through the meadow, picking flowers for the abbey. Nathan waved, and the monks waved back.
Nathan led Simon to the road, then back to Miren's position. "We shouldn't have given him Simon's name. He's got the same stubbornness."
"I had to name him something in a hurry, Nathan. You were thinking up another tribal name. Wampanoag, wasn't it?"
"I see nothing wrong"
"We'd have to call him Wamp for short."
Nathan picked through the rolling puppies as they tumbled and played in the tall grass. "Algonquin, Navajo, Apache . . . Where are Abenaki and Mahican?"
Two puppies sprang through the grass, and Nathan laughed. "I see. Stalking me."
He looked around. "And the other one . . . The one you named."
Miren pointed at her side. Melody lay on her back, feet in the air, her round stomach exposed to the sun. Her eyes were closed, her little mouth open. Nathan shook his head. "There had to be one that took after its mother."
"Melody will take action when it's necessary."
"And not before." Nathan seated himself beside Miren. He gazed into her eyes, and a slow smile grew on his face. "What about us, my love? What will we name this one?" He touched her stomach gently, his smile widening.
"If it's a girl, I thought Cora, for my mother, if that's all right."
"It's beautiful. What if it's a boy?"
"You choose."
Nathan lay back in the grass, considering the matter. He held Miren's hand over his heart. "Akwesane?"
"I don't think so, Nathan. I'd like to be able to pronounce my son's name. And I don't want to call him Ak for short."
"Good point. Have you another suggestion?"
"David, for your brother."
Nathan's dark eyes filled with tears. "Yes."
Nat slid off his pony's back and flung himself among the puppies, laughing. "When I am king, you will be my pages."
Abenaki and Algonquin bounced on top of him, and Nat howled with laughter. "All right! I will be your page and you will be kings."
Nathan watched Nat playing with the puppies, and Miren kissed his shoulder. "He is happy. He needed you, and you're the best father any child could have. I needed you, though maybe I wouldn't admit it at first. And you are the best husband . . ." Miren's voice caught. He kissed her cheek, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Especially at night."
Nathan nodded stoically. "And in the morning. And when we get a chance, in the afternoon." He paused. "And at tea."
Miren blushed, then cleared her throat. "Tea time is approaching, you know."
"I know."
Nathan cleared his throat, too, and watched as Molly's first puppy tumbled down the road toward the pasture. The puppy reached the stone wall, tried to climb over, and flopped backwards. It righted itself, then tried again.
Nathan shook his head. "Try the gate, Mohawk!"
The puppy backed up, faced the stone wall, then hurtled himself up the rocks, kicking and struggling until he reached the top. He bounded down, proud, and raced toward Flip.
"Mohawk has a good herding instinct, I see."
Miren smiled as the fat little puppy stalked after Flip. "He's a good dog."
Miren had invited the old farmer who once owned Flip to take up residence in her cottage. He stood among the sheep now, blowing his whistle, proud as Flip separated Blossom and her three lambs from the rest.
Mohawk followed Flip, imitating his actions. He'd already left the litter in favor of staying with Flip and the new shepherd.
Miren sighed happily. "Mr. Stobbe seems happy, doesn't he?"
Simon tugged on his lead rope, straining to reach new grass. Nathan gave up and allowed him to wander free. "When you asked him to move into the cottage, the old fellow lost a good twenty years off his age, Miren. It was well done."
"I'm worried about Blossom, though. Mr. Stobbe says her internals were damaged giving birth to those three lambs. He says she's too old to have more, but Earnest won't take that into account."
Nathan hesitated, started to speak, but Miren held up her hand. "We will not eat Blossom."
Miren cast a warning glance Molly's way. Molly's ear drooped and she sighed.
Nathan chuckled. "Then what do you suggest we do with an aged, worn-out ewe who still attracts Earnest's attention?"
"Her lambs are ready for weaning . . ." Miren's eyes narrowed.
Nathan shook his head. "No."
Molly braced, looking horrified.
Miren looked from Molly to Nathan, then nodded. "The matter is settled."
No . . . It is too hideous to comprehend. No!
Molly stood on the threshold of the manor door. Her puppies played on the grass, but Melody sat beside her, one ear cocked doubtfully. The worst thing Molly could imagine, beyond her most hideous dreams, came real before her eyes.
Nathan and Nat stood like doormen, while . . . No. Molly forced herself to look. While Miren led Blossom, on a fine new leash, from the pasture . . . up the road. A flash of hope died when Miren didn't stop at the fork. No, she wasn't taking the fat ewe to the monks for their dinner.
Blossom was coming . . . home. To Molly's home. She wore a thick red ribbon around her woolly neck. It was tied in a fat bow. Blossom had been bathed, her regrown woollooked whiter than usual. And she was looking straight at Molly.
Blossom ambled up the stairs, pulling Miren along behind, and Molly snarled. She braced, ready to defend her home against this outrage. Blossom aimed for the doorway, nudged Molly aside, then progressed into the manor.
It was too much. Molly sank to her belly, nose on her paws. Melody looked at her, then flopped to her stomach, too.
Nathan trudged up the stairs after Miren. He glanced down at Molly and bent to scratch her ears. "I know."
He followed Miren into the house. "You are not keeping that ewe in our house, woman. It's . . . unacceptable, foul, and . . . insane. Of course, you're Scottish, so I should have expected something like this."
Nat bounded up the stairs, skipping every other step as he raced after Blossom. "Can Blossom sleep in my room?"
Nathan just groaned. Molly eyed the stone building and saw the monks toiling in their garden. She might take up residence with them. But they'd taken Huntley, for the purpose of trimming their lawn. She couldn't go there, either. She closed her eyes and imagined her future.
Life with Blossom. No . . .
Miren emerged from the front hall, tugging at Blossom.
"Fetch a potted plant, Nathaniel. We need something to lure her around to her new pen."
Molly opened one eye, holding herself tense. Nathan seized a potted plant and held it in front of Blossom
. Blossom rushed at it with fervor, and Nathan backed down the stairs.
They led Blossom around to the back lawn, and Molly followed. A small pen had been set up beneath the rowan tree, with a bucket of water ready . . . for Blossom. Molly gazed toward the blue sky in thanks.
Nathan sacrificed the potted plant to Blossom's pen, and Miren shut the gate. "She'll be happy here. We'll give her special potted plants." Miren eyed Molly, a devious smile on her lips. "Molly will visit her daily."
The strange thing, the thing I can't explain, is that the young mistress was right. I find myself visiting Blossom's pen every day, even in the rain. The old ewe expects me. Even manages to knock me over every now and again, when I take a drink from her water bucket. I have a water dish of my own, but sampling Blossom's has a certain appeal.
Winter came, and spring. In spring a small, naked boy came from Miren's body. Nathan's father and Glenna assisted the birth, while Miren gripped Nathan's hand. I sat at the foot of the bed, more tense than I have ever been. As tense as Flip when he tends the flock.
Now that I've seen the little fellow, I understand why. Soon he will walk, and then run. He could go anywhere. He will follow Nat, and they will get into trouble. More children will follow. I know, because Miren and her Nathan wasted no time starting on another.
It will be my job to keep them all in line. I realize now that it wasn't a life of leisure I wanted, so long ago when I followed my mistress and her sheep through valleys and hills. I wanted a task worthy of my abilities.
I am a herding dog, after all. But my flock is human.
Ms. Piel grew up in central Maine, where her parents raised sheep, cattle, and horses. Living in rural Maine left plenty of time for reading books, her favorite activity. She spent countless hours rewriting classics, giving each a romantic ending. In her world, Rhett turns around and comes right back, and Juliet always wakes up in time.
Ms. Piel, 37, lives on the coast of Maine with her husband, Gordon Voltin, and their three children, Natasha, Sophia, and Garrett. She loves traveling, reading, and history, using its lessons to create her own worlds. Accompanied by author Neesa Hart, Ms. Piel set off into the Scottish Highlands with this message: Life is for living, not avoiding death, and the desire to immerse fully in history can cause limitless trouble!
