Free Luckpenny Land by Freda Lightfoot Page B

by brilliant swathes of light. And on the ridges beyond, the remains of last winter’s snow formed skeletal faces, warning people to tread with care. It put her in awe of the task of caring for heedless animals in such a setting. She was mad. She must be to let a little knowledge go to her head. Perhaps Dan was right when he said she was too sharp for her own good.
    Alone, here, on the mountainside, she made a private vow that whatever she needed to know, she would learn. Deep inside her was an ache Meg knew must be satisfied. Nothing to do with love, or Jack, or even her family, though they made her more aware of it.
    This was something to do with the search she had been engaged on all her life, with that night in April, and with the destiny that she had found on that night. She drew the sparkling air deep into her lungs and felt better for knowing nothing could touch that secret part of her.
    In the end though, she was forced to swallow her pride and return to the farm. Dan crowed with pleasure at her embarrassment and her father mockingly reminded her he had said all along that shepherding was man’s work.
    ‘I could do it,’ she told them both, shame and humiliation adding unusual beauty to her rosy cheekbones. ‘If I had a dog to work with. Even you couldn’t do it without a good dog, you know you couldn’t.’ But neither would admit such a thing so Meg held her silence for the rest of the meal. Only Charlie seemed to be on her side.
    ‘I think Meg had guts to try. I couldn’t bring the sheep in on my own.’
    ‘We know that, you great clod,’ said Joe, masticating slowly. ‘Nor would you have thought to try. Shut your face and eat your food.’
    It was when she was washing up and Joe was settling by the fire with his pipe that the subject of Sally Ann Gilpin came up.
    ‘What do y’mean, she came to see me? Why has no one thought to tell me.’
    ‘I’m telling you now.’ Meg took off her apron and hung it behind the door. ‘Dan sorted it out, ask him. I’m off for a walk.’
    ‘No, you’re not, madam. I want to know by what right thee put her on to our Dan without speaking to me first.’ Joe started to tamp down the tobacco with a yellow-stained finger as if trying to dampen his rising temper along with it.
    For once Meg was surprised to see her elder brother wriggling with discomfort.
    ‘It was only a small matter,’ Dan muttered.’ Sal Gilpin needs to reduce the weekly payments for a little while, that’s all.’
    ‘That’s all?’ The voice was ominously soft. Joe Turner had learned that a quiet tone injected far more menace into simple words. He stared unblinkingly at his son. ‘Under what conditions did you agree to her reducing the weekly sum?’
    ‘Conditions?’ This from Meg who was anxious to provide Sally Ann with a defence at least. ‘What more can you ask for? If she pays less each week it’ll just take longer to be paid off, but you’ll get your money in the end, and no doubt extra interest.’
    Dan nodded eagerly. ‘She’ll call here regular to pay it, every Friday.’
    Joe stood up to face his son, his body quivering with unspent anger. ‘Didn’t she tell you that I called at her house each week along with my other regular clients? Thee has no right to change the arrangements behind my back.’
    Meg looked from one to the other, dazed by the tension that had sprung up so quickly in the small kitchen. ‘For goodness sake, what does it matter how you get your money? She’ll do her best. Calm down, Father.’
    ‘Don’t thee tell me to calm down, madam. This is my farm, and I’m in charge of it.’
    ‘You’re in charge of everything, it seems,’ Dan said in a rare show of rebellion. ‘When do I get some rights? And some wages?’
    ‘Why would you need wages? I don’t charge thee any keep.’
    ‘I’m not your whipping boy. You keep saying you’ll retire. But you won’t, I know you won’t, and how can I ever think of taking a wife with no money coming in to