The Shepherd's Betrothal

by Lynn A. Coleman

  He got up from the porch and went inside. As for financial reports, he had some of his own book-work to do. He sat down at the table with his ledger in front of him. Even with the outright purchase of the land, Ian still had reserves.

  A knock at his door drew his attention. “Come in, door’s unlocked.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. McGrae, but I should not,” came the muffled sound of Hope’s voice through the closed door.

  Ian jumped up and answered it. “Hope—Miss Lang! What a pleasure to see ye.”

  She bowed her head slightly, her soft red hair cascading down her shoulders. “Forgive my boldness, Mr. McGrae, but…” She paused.

  Ian looked at her closely, and could see that something was wrong. “No imposition at all. How may I help ye?”

  “I learned some information today that might affect you and your property. I don’t know how to say this, but there is a claim against this land. Someone is claiming Mr. Sanders was not the owner and did not have the right to sell it to you.”

  “A lawyer drew up our agreement. How could the land not have been his?”

  “That’s why it surprised me, as well. I was looking at the town records investigating something for my father when I stumbled upon the claim. It might have some validity.”

  Ian stepped onto the porch, brushing past her. He leaned against a post and gazed upon the rolling green pasture. After all the work, and the sheep he’d purchased, what was he going to do? “What do Mr. and Mrs. Sanders say about this?”

  “I didn’t speak with them. I came to you. I thought you should know.”

  “I appreciate ye letting me know this.”

  “I think you should speak with Mr. Sanders, ask if he has his original purchase agreements for the land, especially the surveyor reports. Then you and Mr. Sanders need to secure a lawyer to represent you and take the matter to court, if need be. My guess is that someone is lobbying a false claim but I can’t be certain.

  “At a cursory glance, the claim seems legitimate. However, I have concerns. For one thing, the claim that Mr. Sanders didn’t have the right to sell the property to you seems odd since he and his wife have been living on this land for forty years.”

  Ian took in a deep pull of air. “Then we need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Sanders straightaway. Will ye come with me so ye can share what ye have found?”

  Hope nodded. She pulled back her hair into a soft bun.

  “Ah, ye had yer hair down for me,” Ian teased, surprising himself almost as much as he surprised her.

  Pink infused her cheeks as she stammered, “No, I just didn’t take the time to put it back up.”

  “The pink on yer cheeks goes well with the fire in yer hair.” The poor woman could barely speak. Ian sobered. Maybe he had been inappropriate. This wasn’t the time to tease her. “My apologies, Miss Lang. Let’s go see if the Sanderses are home.”

  Ian petted Tara and told her to stay. He whistled at Conall and the dog came running. “Watch the sheep, boy. I’ll be back.” They headed up the pathway that led to the Sanders home. “Tell me, Hope, if ye had yer druthers, what would ye like to do in the future?”

  “Honestly, I’d like to fashion clothes.”

  Ian stopped. “Really?”

  “Yes. There are many things impractical about women’s clothing, like bustles for example. Whoever designed them… well, I don’t know what he was thinking. The fact that it became the fashion rage for so many years boggles my mind. I think a slim, trim skirt with just enough room to walk or run is more than a woman needs.”

  “Isn’t that what most women wear around the house?”

  “Yes, but I’m thinking in the business world. A woman should be free to move as easily as a man and yet still be feminine.”

  Ian couldn’t argue with the part about ‘being feminine,’ and he didn’t know this country well enough to know what the business world was like. “Ye might have a point there.”

  “Most people don’t believe women will be working more outside the home. But I see changes happening since the war. The women who were left behind had to tend to their family needs, pay their bills when their husband’s income was gone or never arrived to them from the field. It’s brought about a confidence in women. Look at Grace and what she does at the inn.”

  “Yes, I can see yer point. But don’t ye think a woman needs to be home to raise the children?”

  “Of course. But for those seasons when there are no children I believe we can do so much more.”

  Ian found her ambition attractive. In fact, everything about her was attractive.

  * * *

  Hope pored over the paperwork that Mr. and Mrs. Sanders provided. They were stunned that someone would try to make a claim on their land. She scribbled down notes of plot numbers, dates of purchase, the original owner’s name, moving through each document until she came to the bill of sale between the Sanderses and Ian. “Ah, I think I have found the problem,” she said as she scanned the details.

  William jumped up. “What is it?”

  “Look here. In the original draft from the lawyer, the number is 607.86 for the plot of land. In the final draft the number is 608.76.”

  “All of this because of a typographical error?” Mable asked.

  “Hopefully it is that simple. Here are my notes. Take these to your attorney and he should be able to fix the matter without much fuss. However,” Hope cautioned, “it is still troubling that someone would use this to make such a claim against you.”

  Ian stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Thank ye, Miss Lang. We would have missed that! In fact, we missed it back when we signed the paperwork.”

  “You’re welcome. If there is anything I can do just let me know. I have a pretty good eye for details and I’m fairly good at researching documents.”

  Mable smiled. “I’d say you’re more than competent, dear. Thank you again for all your help.”

  Hope nodded. “I better get going before the sun sets.”

  “Ian, you should escort this young lady home,” William prodded. “It isn’t right to have such a pretty young woman walking by herself.”

  Hope chuckled. “Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Sanders, but I drove the carriage.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case you should be getting home before dark.”

  “Yes, sir. Good night, all.”

  “Good night.”

  Ian hustled over to the door before she reached it. “I’ll walk ye to yer carriage.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McGrae.”

  Outside, a pink-and-purple ribbon was forming on the horizon as the sun settled in the west. Just then, a sharp howl rent the air and Ian bolted toward his house.

  Hope ran after him. Something must have been happening with the dogs or the sheep. She lifted her skirt and pumped her legs harder, trying to keep up. Her heels sinking into the soil, she dug up the ground like a plow turning over the dirt for the first planting.

  Tara lay moaning on the porch as Ian petted her head and her belly. The dog was panting hard and about to give birth. Suddenly and without explanation, Ian left Tara’s side as Conall growled out in the field. He ran toward Conall, calling out to Hope to please stay with Tara.

  She rubbed behind the ears of the beautiful dog, sliding her hand to her tummy. “Oh my, you have quite a litter in there.” She could feel at least four if not six distinct puppies.

  She heard Ian yell off in the distance, then whistle.

  Tara whimpered. “I’m here, Tara. I’ll help you through this.”

  Ian came back drenched in sweat, his face drawn, carrying Conall. Hope saw the blood on Ian’s shirt. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “A bobcat was trying to get one of the sheep. Conall fought him off. How’s Tara?”

  “About to give birth.”

  Ian groaned. “Hope, I hate to ask this of ye again but would ye stay with the dogs? I want to round up the sheep.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll clean up Conall.”

  “Y
e can find some rags on the floor of me closet.”

  “I’ll be fine. Go, take care of your sheep.”

  “Thank ye.” Ian laid Conall on the porch. “Stay,” he ordered. He grabbed his shepherd’s crook and ran off.

  “Let me see what that bad bobcat did to you, boy.” Conall looked up with one blue eye and one brown eye. “Shh, boy, I know how to clean a wound. Let me get the rags.”

  Just then the Sanderses came over, William carrying a shotgun. “What was all that commotion?”

  “Oh dear, what happened?” Mable asked, looking down at Conall.

  “Ian thinks he tangled with a bobcat.”

  “I’ll gather thread and some needles,” Mable said as she headed toward the house.

  “Miss Lang, should I send word to your family?” William asked.

  Hope let out a nervous chuckle. “No, it won’t matter. They’ll understand once I explain everything.” I hope. “Tara is about to deliver her puppies and I’m about to get some rags to clean up Conall’s wounds.”

  “Mable will help you when she gets back. Best to let Tara do what’s natural.” William hoisted his shotgun over his shoulder and went into the field to help Ian.

  Hope stepped into Ian’s home and headed for the closet. She hadn’t been in the house since the eve it had been built, when she and the ladies set up the furnishings and the curtains.

  This was a private side of him she had not seen until now. Ian kept a tidy room, just as she would have expected. She pulled aside the curtain to the closet and found the rags Ian had mentioned. She knelt down and fingered through the various materials. Selecting the more absorbent cloths, she started to rip them into strips.

  Hope went back to the porch to see Mable returning.

  “He needs stitching?”

  “Yes. Not too bad, though. He should do well if infection doesn’t set in. You’re a brave boy, Conall,” Mable encouraged while petting behind his ears.

  Hope had readied a bowl of warm water to wash the wound as well as the clean rags. “This is going to hurt a bit, boy.” Mable sat by Conall’s head and held him down. Hope rinsed the wound then put in a couple of stitches. Conall whimpered but laid still. Hope was again impressed by how well these dogs obeyed.

  As she wrapped the wound with the strips of cloth, she heard the sound of bleating. “Looks like the sheep and men are coming in,” Mable said. “I’ll go open the gate to the pen.”

  Hope couldn’t believe the size of Ian’s flock. There was no way they would all fit in that one pen. “How many sheep does he have?”

  “Fifty.”

  “I don’t think they’ll all fit,” Hope said

  “They will. They won’t like it, but they will fit.” Mable smiled. “Same with cattle. You can round ’em up until they squawk at yah, but they’ll fit.”

  She loved watching him work. He was firm but gentle with his sheep. His movements were easy and fluid, relaxed. He leaned down and slid his hand down the legs of one of the sheep. Hope closed her eyes as an unbidden thought of being in his arms overwhelmed her.

  * * *

  Ian looked over and saw Hope sitting between Conall and Tara on the porch, stroking them with her gentle touch. The puppies lay beside their mother. Ian smiled. Somehow the porch looked more inviting with Hope sitting there. He prodded the small flock into the enclosed pen. “Thank ye, Mable and William. I appreciate yer help.”

  “More than happy to lend a hand. Here’s my shotgun. Use it if that bobcat comes back tonight.”

  Ian nodded and walked over to the porch. “How are they doing?”

  “Tara seems to be comfortable now that she’s a mum with six adorable pups. Conall is doing well. We cleansed his wound and put in a couple of stitches. Where’d you get all the sheep?”

  Ian shrugged. “I’ve been traveling a bit, purchasing some here and there. I’m hoping the five coming from Ireland will be here next month. I’ll be getting me ram then, as well.”

  “How large of a flock do you want?”

  “I’m not certain. Me original goal was five hundred. But I don’t want to stress the land too much and I’m not ready to hire a crew. If I can have three hundred after two years I’ll be happy.”

  “That’s a lot of sheep.”

  “It takes quite a few to make a profit. But I’ll be content to make ends meet in me third year.”

  Hope nodded. “I’m impressed with your knowledge and goals.”

  “Sheep raising has been in me family for generations. I be carin’ for sheep when I was a young fella of five. Perhaps before, but I remember when I was five.” Ian suddenly jumped up. “Forgive me for waggin’ me tongue. It is late, and ye will be ridin’ home in the dark.”

  “If you will light the lanterns for me on the carriage, I’ll be fine. I’d like to stay and help with Tara but it wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Aye. I’ll take care of the lanterns.”

  Ian hustled off to the carriage before he said or did something totally inappropriate. I was such a fool, Lord. Hope is a remarkable woman. Any man would be proud to have her as his wife. Give her safe journeys tonight, Lord.

  Hope bent down and kissed each dog, whispered in their ears. For the first time in his life, he was jealous of his dogs.

  “Good night, Mr. McGrae. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how Tara and Conall are doing. Can I bring you anything? I can’t see you leaving the ranch for a couple of days.”

  “Aye, that be true. I’ll be needing some eggs and bread.”

  “I’ll take care of it. You try and get some rest.”

  “Thank ye, Miss Lang.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ian watched as Hope went to her carriage.

  How much better it would have been to have her by his side as his wife right now. Ian wagged his head then turned his attention on his dogs. “Come inside, there be a bit of a chill in the air tonight.”

  Conall whimpered but obeyed. Thankfully, he was walking all right. Ian lifted the linen with the pups and Tara followed behind, keeping her eyes on her pups. Ian looked down at his sweat- and bloodstained shirt. He poured some water into the basin and cleaned his hands and arms. Then he put his shirt in the water to soak out Conall’s blood.

  He was grateful the Lord had spared the dog. Florida seemed to have quite a variety of predators. As soon as the dogs were fit he’d recheck the fence. Bringing fifty sheep into the area must be like offering a fresh steak dinner to the bobcat. He rubbed his chin. He’d better consult with Jackson Hastings and William Sanders again about the threats to his livestock.

  Ian went back out onto the porch, watched his sheep and sat long into the night. Thoughts of Hope danced in his head. She was remarkable, kind, loving… Was there any way he could court her after all that had happened?

  Chapter 6

  Hope stopped by Ian’s every day for a week to help him with errands. Today Conall’s stitches would be coming out. He had been subdued every visit, but Hope could tell the dog wanted to be out running about.

  She liked the way Ian doted on his dogs. Would he be the same way with children? But why would she wonder about that?

  Ian had been herding the sheep back and forth each day without his dogs while Conall was recovering and Tara was nursing. Tara had six adorable pups, four male and two female. Hope fell in love with all the pups but especially the runt of the litter, whom she named Clare. She sported two brown patches, one over each eye. The tip of her muzzle was white.

  Hope placed Ian’s supplies on the table and went to Tara’s bed, where all six pups were actively nursing. “How are you doing, Tara?”

  Tara opened her eye but didn’t lift her head. Hope reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of beef jerky she’d brought. “Here you go, girl, a special treat.”

  Tara took the treat but stayed in place for the sake of her puppies.

  “And how are you, boy?” Hope asked Conall. She flicked her wrist—the signal Ian had shown her—and ordered, “Come.”

  Conall wagged
his tail and ambled to her side. Hope looked at his healing wound. Ian had made and applied an ointment to keep the infection level down. “It’s looking good, boy. Would you like me to take them out?”

  Conall woofed.

  Hope sat back. It was the first time the dog had ever barked in response to a question from her. “Do you understand me, boy?”

  “No, he saw me.”

  Hope jumped up and spun around. Ian leaned against the doorjamb, displaying his joyous grin. “But he does trust ye.”

  “Mr. McGrae, you startled me.”

  “Aye, ye were quite attentive to me dogs. I came to take Conall to work the sheep for a little bit.”

  “Is he ready?”

  “Absolutely. However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t keep that wound covered for another couple of days.”

  Hope wiped her hands on the apron of her skirt. “You’ll find the items you requested on the table. Also, I brought you some fresh biscuits from the inn.”

  “Thank ye. How is Mrs. Arman doing?”

  “Quite well. The doctor said she could start doing a few more things around the house. Which is good because Grace isn’t one to sit down for too long.”

  Ian smiled. “Aye, I understand. I don’t know how to thank ye for all the help ye have been to me.” He looked down at his work boots.

  Hope swallowed. She prayed he’d stay in the doorway. The desire to be in his arms grew with each passing day. She came by to help at times when she knew he wouldn’t be at home.

  He raised his head and focused on her. “Ye are a godsend, Miss Lang.”

  “It is a pleasure to help. Now I must be off. I have to take in the sheets and iron some items for the Armans before my day ends.”

  “Oh, ye should know the lawyer was able to fix the records. Even so, I was served a legal notice today. Me attorney said it was nothing and he would handle it.”

  “This really makes no sense at all. I can’t believe the judge agreed to hear the case.”