Free Luckpenny Land by Freda Lightfoot

loan.’
    ‘Well now, if it’s to do with money lending, I’m the one you want to see, not me father.’
    ‘Oh, but it was Mr Turner that I dealt with last time.’
    Dan was setting down his mug as he got to his feet. He looked impressive at full stretch, a well-built man it was true, but handsome when he made the effort to adopt a more pleasant demeanour. And all too aware of his own power.
    ‘Well, you can deal with me now. Father leaves much of that side of the business in my hands these days.’
    ‘Since when?’ Meg asked, startled.
    Dan ignored her. ‘He has enough to do with the farm, he says. These financial matters are often left to me.’ He smiled at Sally Ann.
    A year or two younger than herself, Meg thought Sally Ann looked suddenly old and haggard, and she was filled with pity for her. Dan had never been known for his caring personality. Rather the reverse. He had been the kind of child who pulled wings off butterflies and hated anyone to best him. She reached out a hand instinctively to reassure the other girl.
    ‘What do you know about finance? You couldn’t even learn your multiplication tables.’
    ‘If you’re so clever I dare say you think you could run this whole farm better’n me?’
    ‘You don’t run it. Father does.’
    Dan’s face went red. He hated the idea that he must wait till Joe died before he had any say in running Ashlea. ‘It’ll be mine one day. Then you’ll have to do what I say.’
    Meg was so infuriated by this high-handed bullying the words were out before she had checked them. ‘Maybe it’ll be mine and not yours, who can say?’
    ‘Huh, that’s a laugh. Father’d never leave it to you.’
    ‘He might, if I proved I could look after it better’n you,’ she protested, then quailed at the grimace of pleasure that came to his face.
    ‘You? Run this farm? A woman?’
    ‘Yes, me, a woman.’
    ‘I’d like to see you try.’ Dan jerked his head towards the empty field and the smooth green fells beyond, where could be seen moving flecks of sheep grazing. ‘If you’re so wonderful, let’s see you fetch some of the sheep down for the clipping. Go on, I dare you.’
    She could tell him not to talk so daft. It took three men with dogs to walk the several hundred acres of open fell and bring down the hundreds of sheep that belonged to Ashlea.
    Perhaps it was the mocking laughter on his face, or his heartless bullying of poor Sally Ann. Or the fact that he had ruined her one chance of earning a bit of extra money by getting her in trouble with her father. Or Meg remembering all too vividly that night in the snow. She had told no one, not even her family, of that night, and neither it seemed, had Lanky. Perhaps because of that experience Meg felt certain she was capable of so much more and had a sudden longing to prove it.
    ‘All right,’ she said. ‘You’re on.’
    Dan turned away, a sneering laugh on his lips. ‘Don’t talk soft. There’s only two places where women should be. At kitchen sink, or in bed.’
    That did it. Meg tossed her bright head, curls bouncing with boundless energy, grey eyes meeting her brother’s with a challenging glare. ‘Right. I’ll bring some of your damn sheep in. See if I don’t.’
    And leaving them standing open mouthed, she recklessly set off alone, up the fells.
     
    Drops of water sparkled in the sunshine on firm brown flesh. Two bodies, now entwined, now swimming and diving, ducking and leaping, girlish laughter mixed with the more gruff teasing tones of the man who pursued her carried upward on the still warm air.
    Not for this girl any sense of shyness or undue modesty. Her body was carefully toasted to a coffee and milk colour and she held no inhibitions about showing it. She knew her breasts were firm and full, her waist narrow over the seductive swell of girlish hips. Her legs were long with slim ankles and highly arched, pretty feet. She buffed the skin at night till it was smooth as silk, nurtured with creams and