My Dark Highlander

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  “I am here to help you, sweetie,” she whispered. Running a hand along the cow’s shaggy neck, she scratched her behind the ears, then slowly ran her fingers down the animal’s knee. When the animal mooed, Jenny removed her hand. The cow stood still, her body trembling, as Jenny crouched beside the foreleg. She settled her hands on the cow’s stomach and nose.

  “What’s ailing her, doc?” the older gentleman asked.

  “A cursory examination shows a bruise, but no bleeding. A support bandage will keep the swelling in check, and some pain medication will allow her to take the pressure off her other hooves.”

  The older man nodded, so she and Denise worked hand-in-hand, whispering commands and passing supplies over the fence. Jenny’s boots squished in the soiled straw, and she thanked the Lord above, that the beast hadn’t suffered an open wound. An infection was hard to treat in big animals.

  “That should hold her. I’ll give her aspirin against the pain, if that’s okay with you?”

  “I’ll be over there,” the younger man said, followed by a teasing chuckle.

  Some people feared needles, but this instance only required medication by mouth. She hoped the animal understood that the unappetizing aspirin was meant to ease her pain, and not try to shove Jenny into the muck. Denise passed the huge pill over the fence. With speed, and years of practice on Jake’s horses, she raised the cow’s head, and shoved it down the cow’s throat.

  After a few minutes passed, the cow’s hoof dropped to the ground, and she shifted her weight. Jenny backed up slowly, giving her more room. The animal’s aura changed to light blue. It wasn’t the red aura of vitality, but it signaled harmony and peace. Jenny was relieved to see the improvement. She waded through the muck to the gate.

  “Let me out.”

  The younger Mr. Hay pulled it open, then latched the gate behind her. She removed her muddy boots, and slipped on her shoes. Denise joined her, and helped her smooth out her skirt.

  She pulled the cloth from her ponytail, and shook her hair loose, then turned to the senior Mr. Hay. “I believe she’ll keep improving. You can put the bull back with her. She’s smart, and will keep away from his big hooves.”

  Both men chuckled. The younger Mr. Hay’s smile was a little off, as was his aura. It rolled in a variety of swirls from pale gray to deep black, as if his mind moved from subject to subject every few seconds. An eerie sense of dread gripped her around the chest and squeezed.

  It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll never see him again.

  “The clinic will send you a bill,” she said to the older man.

  While Denise gathered the supplies and lifted the medical bag, his son stepped closer, and wiped a filthy rag over his brow. Jenny stared at the wide line of dirt and sweat left in its wake. “Now that the work’s done, how about you and I go get a drink?”

  His offer caught her off guard. The color of his aura solidified into the gray that meant that he felt trapped in his life. Slightly better than black, the unwanted shade deepened, cautioning her. Luck was with her, in this instance. An excuse to decline his offer stood right beside her. “I am so sorry. I have other plans, with my friends.”

  Jenny looped an arm through Denise’s free arm. Instead of saying anything more, he turned away and headed toward the Highland steer’s pen.

  “Pardon my son’s manners. He just severed a bad relationship.”

  The word severed turned her stomach, but she plastered a fake smile and answered the man. “No worries. I have to go. Coming, Denise?”

  Denise walked beside her carrying the medical kit. If she was aware of her misgivings about the young man, who seemed upset she’d turned down a date, she kept quiet. Jenny quickened their pace.

  “What’s the rush, and why did you turn down a date? I swear, Jenny, if you keep this up you’re going to end up an old maid.”

  Slowing, she waited for Denise to catch up. Leave it to her friend not to miss a thing. “Sorry. I didn’t like that guy’s…umm…”

  “Aura?”

  “Denise! Keep your voice down!” Jenny squeezed her friend’s arm, and pulled her behind the ski lodge. Only a few people walked behind the building. “You’re right, but I don’t go around broadcasting my curse.”

  “Curse? I wish I had the ability to read a person’s intentions. Could make my job at the clinic run smoother.”

  “In what way?”

  “I could weed out the crabby customers and help you doctors with the happy ones.” She giggled.

  Denise had a point, but reading auras was a curse. The only reason she’d go near a crowd, like the one near the athletic events, was because she had promised to meet Rae.

  “We’ll drop the bag and boots at the tent of a woman I met, recently. She’s a hoot. You’ll love her.”

  Crossing her fingers, Jenny led Denise to the tent of the Highland witch.

  ***

  “You came on a little strong with that lady from the clinic, junior.” Randolph Hay spread more straw in the cow pen.

  Randy glared at him, but kept silent. His father didn’t understand women. The man had divorced three in the fifteen years since Randy’s mother passed away. Four wives, and Dad is still alone and cranky.

  “I asked her to have a drink with me. Nothing disrespectful in that. If you have this under control, I’d like to watch the sheepdog trials.”

  His father nodded, and scuffed a boot in the grass beside the paddock. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.

  Following a trail in the gravel, worn by the many visitors to the sheep and cow corrals, he headed toward the cheering crowds. To the right, in a grassy area surrounded by orange snow fence, a Border Collie was working the small herd of white-faced sheep. Before he headed in that direction, a thunderous roar rose from the field to the left. Over the heads of hundreds of visitors, a caber wobbled back and forth, most likely perched on the shoulder of an athlete. When the huge tree fell, the roar of the crowd turned to one loud moan.

  “Guess he screwed that toss.” The concept of competing in front of hundreds of strangers, using ancient tools and weapons was ludicrous. At least the noisy crowd made good cover, as his eyes scanned everywhere. He searched for the cutie from the clinic.

  Jenny Morgan.

  In her Scottish attire, she had intrigued him. He was glad he kept the bull between them, so the big dumb beast hid his body’s reaction. His jeans had stretched near to bursting. Had his dad seen the bulge beneath his zipper? Was that the reason he’d reamed his ass? Years ago, he swore never to take dating advice from such a loser. The girl was hot, and worth pursuing. “A doctor, too.”

  I noticed the way she looked at me.

  True, she’d given that big kilted oaf a kiss on the cheek, “And the guy had said something to Dad, but no matter. She looked at me, with those big brown eyes, and I just know she’s destined to be mine. All mine.” He got hard, thinking about her lush curves and long legs.

  “Now, where the heck did that timid filly get to?”

  ***

  Jenny led Denise inside Dorcas Swann’s tent. Several lanterns provided the structure with a seventeenth-century ambience, which made sense. She’d met Dorcas in 1603 Scotland. The old woman looked the same today, as the first time Izzy had introduced her.

  Dorcas, bent over her worktable, crushed herbs with her ancient mortar and pestle. The fragrance of bitter herbs melded with the flowery scent of crushed apple buds.

  “Dorcas, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine. Denise, this is my…” Jenny paused, thinking what to call her. An idea came to mind, and she added, “mentor, Dorcas Swann.”

  “Your mentor?”

  “She’s showing me the ropes about life in the Scottish Highlands, so I can fill-in for my friend Izzy.” Jenny nearly bit her tongue, as she stumbled over the words. They were true. Sort of. “Dorcas lent me this lovely costume. She’s a friend of my neighbor, Jake Jamison, too.”

  “Doono’ forget Rae Wilson. Are ye no’ supposed to be with hi
m?” Dorcas stopped what she was doing and sucked on her empty pipe, while her gaze bore into Jenny.

  “Rae? I promised to meet him up at the athletic fields. I just finished a job with Denise. We work together at the Lincoln Highlands Animal Clinic. Okay if we leave my things here?” Changing the subject was easy and she raised her boots while pointing to the medical kit Denise carried.

  “Aye. Pleased I am, to meet a friend of the lass.” Dipping her head, Dorcas returned to her task.

  “Well, this is quite a collection of…things.” Drawn to a display of cooking tools, Denise seemed to have forgotten all about getting a drink, and the men in kilts she wanted to watch. The urge to get as far away from the animal pens as she could, made Jenny’s skin itch. The four-legged animals weren’t the problem.

  “You can check them out later.” Jenny turned to the witch. “Dorcas, we’re heading to the athletic competition field to watch Rae. Want to join us?”

  “ ‘Tis a sweet offer, lass, but I mean to stay here and sell my wares.”

  “Okay, we’ll meet you back here, and I’ll help you all afternoon.”

  Dorcas nodded, and kept crushing whatever was scenting the tent. As her shoulder twisted, and her hand upon the pestle bore down on the herbs inside her mortar bowl, her aura kept steady with the amber hue Jenny associated with Dorcas Swann. She was fine.

  Thirsting for a breath of fresh air, followed by a pint of beer, Jenny tugged on her friend’s arm. Outside, Denise slid to a stop beside the next tent.

  “Hey, slow down. I saw a few things I’d like to buy.”

  “You can get them later, before you head home. Do you really want to miss that guy you drooled over?”

  “The hottie in a kilt, who turned your cheeks pink? Lead me to him!”

  Jenny laughed, until the image of a dark and mysterious Highlander wafted up, stealing her breath. She wished Gavin had returned with her, to this time. With his dark good looks, coupled with an ever-present leer, her body tingled at the thought of him kissing her again. Even with his under-his-breath Gaelic curses, and the way he had let her leave, she really missed him.

  My Lord, the man can kiss.

  “Your cheeks are blooming redder than the kilt on that fellow over there,” Denise said. A group of men marched by, and several winked at the pair. Jenny’s pace sped up.

  “The, um, sun. Remember? Watch out.” A group of men and women carrying bagpipes and drums marched by. They all wore the same shirts, hats, and kilts.

  “Be still my heart,” Denise said, then sighed. Loudly.

  Jenny agreed, quietly. “I guess we ought to make a point to visit this festival every year.”

  “Amen, sister.”

  “You two be sisters?”

  Rae suddenly stood beside them. He was a good-looking man, and the tight athletic shirt stretched across a chest much wider then she recalled. His dark green and navy kilt was snug, held up by a thick, leather belt. His kilt’s hem brushed the tops of two luscious knees, and his kilt hose wrapped two awesome calves. When her gaze lit on his modern white sneakers, Jenny burst out laughing.

  Rae grumbled, and stepped back, and her friend sauntered between them.

  “I apologize for Miss Morgan’s rude behavior. I’m Denise LeClair, her friend and co-worker, although she is like a sister to me.” Denise offered Rae her hand, and he gathered it in both of his, and kissed her knuckles.

  “Then I am glad to meet ye, Denise. ‘Tis French?”

  “Correct. Score one for the world-traveling Highlander.”

  “You can let go of her hand, now.” Jenny’s remarks came out a bit heated, if she read Rae’s raised left eyebrow, and Denise’s gasp, correctly.

  “How did you and Jenny meet? I saw you walk away from her, at the cow pen.”

  Jenny spoke up, before Rae could open his mouth to answer with something off the wall, and too close to the truth. “He’s…my cousin.”

  “Really? You two do look a little alike. Same hair, eyes, and height.”

  Rae chuckled. “Aye, she is no’ a wee lass. We be distant cousins. I hale from the Highlands of Scotland.”

  “Kinda figured that, by the accent.”

  “What accent?” Rae looked horrified, then laughed. Denise joined him, and slapped a hand on her chest.

  Jenny shook her head, but was relieved. Danger averted. There was no need to share her recent time travel adventure with her friend.

  Not until I’m sure it really happened.

  “Rae, are you competing soon? I promised to help Dorcas with her tent.”

  He managed to divert his attention from Denise, back to her. “I entered what they call the sheath toss, though where I hail from, ‘tis called a sheaf toss.”

  “Really?” Denise stepped closer, “And what kind of a sport is that?”

  Rae crossed his hands behind his back, stretching the cotton T-shirt tighter across his chest. The cad.

  He knows he looks good.

  “Several kilted men and women, if ye can believe that, will toss a burlap sack of straw over a high bar, using a pitchfork.”

  “That doesn’t sound too hard, and I hope a woman wins,” Denise said.

  Rae grimaced. “The program, a lightweight book of printed pages with paintings, says the sack weighs twenty pounds.”

  “Sounds light, doesn’t it,” Jenny added, “but they will keep raising the bar far above the competitors’ heads, until only one person can make it over without hitting the bar.”

  “Can you win?” Denise asked Rae, completely ignoring Jenny.

  “Aye. I be quite talented in…many things.”

  Denise slapped his forearm, and laughed. “We’ll watch for you. Buy you a drink, if you win.”

  “Good luck. We’ll wait for you near the bleachers,” Jenny added.

  His brow furrowed, so Jenny pointed to the set of raised aluminum seats, near the Information Tent. When he nodded, she latched on to Denise’s wrist and headed away.

  “I need a drink. You?” her friend said.

  “Denise, we agreed to share a beer with Rae. Later.”

  “Water. I need a drink of water, silly.”

  Jenny laughed. “Oh. All the food vendors sell bottled water. I’ll find us seats.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Denise headed toward the light haze, where the smoke from the various food vendors drifted up toward the blue sky.

  “I thought she’d never leave.”

  What the…? Startled, Jenny turned toward the voice. The younger of the two Mister Hays stood nearly hip-to-hip with her. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I’m taking a break. Pa’s shooting the breeze with a friend. Thought I’d wait until you were free. Now you can spend time with me, Jenny.”

  Jenny’s nose tingled. The scent she’d smelled by the pens now enveloped him, like he’d doused his whole body in a horrid cologne.

  The cow smelled better.

  Meeting his gaze, Jenny smiled, then froze. His aura glowed from lemon-green to dark-green.

  The colors of a liar and a cheat, as well as a person under mental stress, she thought as all her senses went on high alert. Whatever she did next, it would not include going anywhere with him.

  “My friend is buying water, and then we’re going to watch my other friend compete in an athletic event. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly. Why spend such a lovely afternoon with some woman, when you can experience everything Randy Hay can show you?”

  Dear Lord! Did he just call himself randy?

  “It’s short for Randolph. That’s what we call my pa. I hate the name. Come on, let’s go someplace less crowded. I’m sure your friend won’t mind.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Polite explanations didn’t seem to work with Randy. Jenny straightened her back and dug in her heels before answering. “I don’t want to, and there’s nothing you can say, to convince me I should.”

  The gleam in his eye turned deadly.

  CHAPTER 8

  What was it with men?
Did Jenny wear a neon sign on her forehead that said I need a date? Randy growled at her. When he mumbled a string of curses, her palms fisted, digging her fingernails into the flesh. Lashing out was childish, though a dirk would have been helpful.

  Time to put some space between us.

  Slipping under the raised arms of several patrons, who clapped for an athlete who had tried his best, she worked her way to the top of the bleachers. He didn’t follow, which was a blessing. Gavin had acted as coarse and impertinent, but he smelled better. Gavin treated her no better than his horse. Well, he loves his horse, a point in Gavin’s favor.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Jenny sat back against the top railing, while she kept an eye out for Denise. Raucous cheers and thunderous claps pulled her gaze toward the wide, green meadow filled with kilted athletes. She sat high above the heads of other people in the bleachers, and of those who lined a low fence around the meadow. Her view was an eerie challenge to her gift, since hundreds of people equaled hundreds of auras.

  Jenny tamped down the urge to snap her eyes shut. What had Dorcas said? Control the ability? She ignored the rainbow of colors, that slowly turned muddy, in the midst of so many. Instead, she concentrated on finding Rae. Within two seconds, she had picked him out, among the competitors. He was shorter than most of the athletes, and his muscles were not as well-defined, but his stance was of a warrior, ready for battle.

  “Why can’t I fall for a decent guy like him?”

  “Beats me,” Denise said, squeezing between Jenny and a portly man in a bright yellow and black kilt, “but I’ve always thought you were too picky.”

  Jenny glared at Denise, as her friend guzzled water from a bottle, then bit into a scone. “You’re eating? I thought we were going to have lunch together.”

  “I couldn’t resist. It’s maple-glazed. So, tell me,” Denise said, as she wiped a napkin across her lips, “who is this him you mentioned?”

  Jenny was hesitant to answer. How do you tell your friend that you kissed a man born in the late sixteenth century, and that no other man made her heart skip, the way Gavin had? When the crowd jumped to its feet, she ignored the question.