Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Laura Strickland
The Hiring Fair
Copyright
Dedication
Books by Laura Strickland
A word about hiring fairs…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“Before we go inside, I want to be sure I ha’ your understanding. This is no’ an ordinary marriage but something more in the manner of a hiring, which is why I came to the fair in the first place.”
He inclined his shaggy head toward her slightly. “A hiring wi’out wages. That is against the law, you do ken.”
She swept him with her gaze. “And are you a man to adhere to arbitrary laws? I confess, I did no’ get that impression.”
“And,” he returned, “are you a woman who needs to hire a husband?” He echoed her. “I confess, I did no’ get that impression.” He returned her stare, slow and attentive. “You are certainly bonnie enough to snare a husband the usual way.”
To her surprise, Annie felt a wave of heat course through her. “I do no’ want a usual kind o’ husband. I want one who will tak’ my orders and stay clear o’ my bed. Be sure you are that man before we go inside and speak these vows.”
One of Sutherland’s eyebrows quirked up. “I was right at the outset; you are mad.”
“So we ha’ already determined,” Annie agreed, beginning to grow edgy again. What if he refused at this late moment? Where would she find a substitute, with the market now deserted and the snow falling? Besides, she discovered she did not want a substitute; for reasons she did not quite understand, she wanted this man and no other.
Praise for Laura Strickland
“The world building is phenomenal.”
~Daysie W. at My Book Addiction and More
~*~
“Laura Strickland creates a world that not only draws you in, but she incorporates it…seamlessly…the kind of book that keeps you awake well into the wee hours, and sighing with satisfaction when you've finished the very last page.”
~Nicole McCaffrey, author
~*~
“As I read I became so involved with the story, I found it difficult to put down the book.…Definitely…an author to watch.”
~Dandelion at Long & Short Reviews
The Hiring Fair
by
Laura Strickland
Help Wanted Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Hiring Fair
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Laura Strickland
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Tea Rose Edition, 2016
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0812-8
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0813-5
Help Wanted Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
In honor of my ancestress, Annie King,
who read the tea leaves and passed down her wisdom.
Books by Laura Strickland
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Dead Handsome: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure
Off Kilter: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure
Sheer Madness: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure
~*~
Devil Black
His Wicked Highland Ways
Honor Bound: A Highland Adventure
The White Gull
Forged by Love (sequel to The White Gull)
The Hiring Fair (part of the Help Wanted series)
~*~
The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy
Daughter of Sherwood
Champion of Sherwood
Lord of Sherwood
~*~
Christmas Short Stories:
Mrs. Claus and the Viking Ship
The Tenth Suitor (also appears in Brides of Christmas, Volume Four)
Valentine Short Story:
Ask Me (part of the Candy Hearts series)
A word about hiring fairs…
Hiring fairs have been common in Britain since the 1300s. Traditionally, they were large annual gatherings where farm workers and landholders met so workers might be taken on for the season. The rate of wage was often set ahead of time and a worker would agree to stay till the next fair. These events eventually evolved to include all the trappings of such gatherings, including food, vendors, and music.
Dates of the gatherings varied by district. In England, they were held after the harvest in late October or early November. My research indicates that in Scotland, hiring fairs were often held on or around March 10th, so I have set my story accordingly.
Chapter One
Oban, Western Scotland, March 1810
Tam Sutherland had nearly given up all hope when the madwoman climbed onto the platform.
The hiring fair—largest in the district—drew much too swiftly to a close. All day he’d stood while the sun rose high overhead illuminating the market and bringing out the combined scents of sea kelp, damp earth, and too many people gathered in close proximity, until now it sank like a fiery eye toward a bank of cloud in the west. He’d watched farmer after farmer and a few agents from larger estates climb the platform where the madwoman now stood and announce what sort of workers they wished to hire. He’d seen man after man and more than a few lasses get taken on. He’d even circulated among them, inquiring from everyone whether they needed additional help, but none would consent to employ a man such as Tam.
After walking ten miles to get here, he had nothing left—no coin in his pocket, no soles on his shoes. No food had passed his lips in two days, and desperation clenched his guts as hard as the hunger. Only his dignity remained, and precious little of that.
A mere handful of potential workers remained to hear the madwoman—Tam and a few fellows bent with age, on
e or two scrawny striplings, and a burly fellow so drunk he could barely stand—in short, the dregs of the dregs. The madwoman lifted her chin and looked past them all. He’d wondered about her earlier in the day, when he saw her moving through the crowd all on her own, sizing up prospective hirelings. A man could not easily overlook such a woman—tall, with a bold, dark eye and dressed so flamboyantly in a green hooded cape and a hat with a broad brim and a long brown feather. She wore rings on her fingers that flashed when she moved. But she did not look wealthy, for all that, and the quick, clever expression on her face betrayed her as being something beyond a common goodwife.
She’d eyed Tam right well at the outset, looked him up and down. But like everyone else she soon noticed his mangled hand and dismissed him from her consideration. Who wanted a farm worker with only one good hand? It defied reason.
Now, though, it appeared she intended to state her requirements, and Tam’s heart stirred. Odd to look upon she might be, but even a place with her would be better than sleeping tonight in a ditch.
She cleared her throat and, in a voice which carried like that of a crow, called out, “I am in need of help on my holding! Gather round all of you who ha’ not yet found a place.”
A few people drifted up, no doubt out of curiosity. Most of them, Tam could see, were farmers with their hirelings already in tow. Folks who were prepared to leave the fair, their tasks done, paused to listen.
Tam edged closer and, out of habit, cradled his mangled hand against his chest.
Still in that clear, somehow powerful voice, the woman called, “Listen to me. ’Tis no ordinary situation, this. I am looking for a man not just for this season but many seasons. A permanent place.”
Those gathered hummed and murmured over that. Such offers came but rarely; workers considered themselves fortunate to get hired on for the spring through harvest, when the work on a farm increased. Especially now when so many went about Scotland dispossessed of their own lands.
“What’s the pay, mistress?” called one of the elders who, like Tam, still lacked a place.
She turned her gaze on the man, and something in her expression sent a small tremor up Tam’s spine.
“No wage for this position, my good man.”
“No wage!” the oldster returned, and walked off in disgust.
The crowd tittered. Many lost interest and walked away also. Curiosity and the tenuous last threads of hope kept Tam where he stood.
Would he be willing to work solely for his keep? Better, almost, to indenture himself in return for passage to the new world.
His lips twisted bitterly. And even in the new world, who would accept a man with but one good hand?
The madwoman, perhaps sensing she fast lost the attention of her listeners, stiffened. For the first time a flash of uncertainty crossed her face. Her fine, dark eyes narrowed and, proving herself mad entirely, she called, “I am no’ looking for a hand, but a husband. And a woman does no’ pay her husband a wage.”
The crowd, like one great beast, went silent at that as if mutually taken aback. Then came the hooting and the comments, most of them bawdy, all hurled at her like stones.
“Fine work that, lady—and my back is strong enough for it!”
“Aye so, and you’re saying the payment lies between your pretty thighs?”
The madwoman endured the onslaught as she might a sudden spurt of rain. Disappointment touched Tam’s heart. Had he truly hoped for saving at this late hour? Aye, and she must be raving. What sort of person climbed up on the hiring platform and made such an offer?
“Nay, but,” she called with no less volume, “I am in earnest.”
The onlookers shook their heads, spat, and began to move away with those they’d hired—for better or worse—in train. Night now gathered in the east, and many had a long trip home. Even such a spectacle as this could not hold them long.
Only the desperate—and the intoxicated—stood on. That meant Tam, one green lad, two oldsters, and the burly drunk with the bushy black beard.
Consternation now showed clearly on the madwoman’s face. She ran her gaze over the dwindling group of prospects, and Tam half expected her to jump down and fade into the growing darkness like some product of his fevered mind.
“I’ll go wi’ ye, mistress,” the drunk called lasciviously. He returned her stare twice as boldly. “I’m liking the looks o’ the provisions.”
“You? You’re so full of ale you can barely stand.”
“Aye, but I will perform the job for ye, as you will see right well, soon as you take me to your bed.”
“No.” The madwoman looked about again, a bit desperately this time. Her gaze skipped over Tam, who stood front and center, ranged wide to touch the departing crowd, and returned to him. As Tam had expected, she descended from the platform, moving with sweeping dignity.
The oldster standing next to Tam, white-haired, with stringy arms and grizzled whiskers on his chin, shot him a look.
“Here she comes, lad—appears ’tis to be either you or me.”
“She canno’ be serious,” Tam returned. “Raving, no doubt.” Who in her right mind came to a hiring fair to find a husband?
“No doubt,” the oldster grunted. “Still, I imagine you are more likely to get up to what she needs than I.”
Tam smiled wryly. “I would ha’ to be mad as her, to take such a prospect.”
“Would you?” The old man nodded to the woman who now approached them. “That’s a fine-looking lass.”
So she was, a truth that had not escaped Tam earlier despite all her odd trappings. She seemed to flow at him like the night, the green cloak swirling about her and her eyes fixed on him like those of a cat stalking prey.
Ah, so she actually meant to speak to him, did she? He drew himself up from his sole-less shoes to his overgrown head. Shabby he might be, but he’d be damned if those last shreds of pride did not stand him in good stead.
She paused in front of Tam, and he felt rather than saw the oldster fade away. Once more she inspected him, using more care this time, her eyes as dark as the sky overhead.
“You must ha’ heard my offer.” Her voice had lost its crow’s squawk and become soft as aged whisky.
“I did,” he returned and wondered how best to deal with a madwoman. With humor, perhaps. “A fine offer of marriage.” He made a show of looking around them. “Yet it appears most your prospects ha’ flown.”
She failed to respond to his attempted levity. “What is wrong wi’ your hand?”
Aye so, direct and unsparing, was she? Tam lifted the limb in question so she might see it better in the growing dusk. “An injury. ’Twas crushed.” Stones falling, flame leaping, unbearable pain, not all of the flesh. “Did no’ heal right.”
“Shame.” Her deep gaze flitted over him yet again, this time in a manner surprisingly titillating. “But perhaps on my farm—”
“I’ll go wi’ ye, mistress.” The burly fellow with the black beard came stumbling over, preceded by a wave of ale fumes strong enough to knock Tam down. “I promise I can gi’ what ye need.”
The madwoman’s nostrils pinched with disgust. “I told you, man, you’re drunk—stinking drunk.”
“Nay, but that will no’ last,” the sot rejoined, “and a fine lass like you will sure ha’ me standing for the job.”
“I am no’ a lass,” the madwoman retorted. “Take yoursel’ off.”
“Nay, but gi’ us a kiss and you will see right fine the stuff o’ which I am made.”
The madwoman took a step back, and the drunk blundered after. Tam halted the fellow’s progress by planting his left hand in the center of the burly chest.
“Do as the lady says and tak’ yoursel’ off. Or do I ha’ to persuade you?”
The drunk grunted a breath that nearly curled Tam’s hair—and fell down.
The madwoman reached out and grasped Tam’s arm. A thrill went through him all the way from his fingers to his spine. What was this, then? He narrowed his gaze
on her and, for a long moment during which neither of them breathed, she returned his stare.
“Well,” the madwoman said then, “if it is no’ a hero.” She towed him away from the prone drunk, who lay groaning, and into the shadows behind the platform.
“As I was saying, the fact you ha’ no’ been hired may be to my good fortune. The place is yours if you want it.”
“The place of—?”
“My husband.”
Tam drew a deep breath. She still clutched his arm, and the ensuing waves of sensation made it hard to think. “You are serious about that, then?”
“Deadly serious. I need help at my place, and I need it at once—in the form of a husband.”
“But you do know not so much as my name!”
She tipped her head. “What is your name?”
“Tam Sutherland.”
She seemed to consider him again, and with more than just her eyes this time—as if her very soul searched him. “Tam, eh? Well, Tam Sutherland, if you will come wi’ me now, to the priest—”
He jerked away from her. “Tonight? ’Tis no’ possible.”
“I assure you, it is. I ha’ already made the arrangements.”
“You are mad!”
She smiled a little. “Quite possibly. Nevertheless, that is the offer I am making: I ha’ a small farm some five miles east of here. I can pay you no wage, but as my husband you will have your keep.”
This time Tam eyed her up and down, experiencing again that small prick of arousal. As the day waned, the thought had indeed crossed his mind he would be more than happy to work for his keep and a place to lay his head. Now, though, it seemed he would have to be as mad as she, to agree.
“Why do you hesitate, Tam Sutherland? You will no’ get taken on elsewhere, wi’ that hand.”
Frankly, he told her, “Like our intoxicated friend, I am wondering about the other duties o’ a husband, lady.”
For the first time she drew back from him slightly. “Och, that. Nay, that will no’ be necessary.”
Tam’s ensuing disappointment shocked him. Aye, though—probably just as well. The last thing he needed was to climb into bed with a madwoman.
“And, lady, do you ha’ a name?”
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