Page 36 of Laird of Flint
They scowled, but couldn’t deny it. Every lad in Scotland had reived a coo. It was practically a rite of passage.
“Let’s settle this here and now,” he told them. “No fists. No bloodshed. Take the beast. Return it to the fold. I’ll take the naughty lad to Dunlop.” Of course, he had no intention of turning the lass in for the crime of reiving cattle. But they didn’t know that.
“We’re the ones who caught the thief,” the bearded one said.“We’lltake him to Dunlop.”
Hew crossed his arms. So they wanted credit for the capture? “Give me your names. I’ll tell the laird ’twas you who caught the cateran. But I’m not going to turn him over to you so you can bloody your knuckles on his face.” Then he had a second thought. “Besides, don’t you have cooherding to do?”
The beardless lad took offense at that. “Cooherdin’? We’re not cooherds.”
Hew blinked. They weren’t? “Then what are you doing out here?”
The bearded one straightened. “Watchin’ for outlaws like him.” He nodded his head toward the cateran.
Hew narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not outlaws yourself?” he wondered aloud. “Maybe you were planning to reive the coos when this one came along and beat you to the fold.”
“We’re not outlaws,” the bearded one sputtered.
“Maybe you are. Maybe you aren’t,” Hew said. “Are you even in the Dunlop clan?”
The other one lifted his beardless chin. “We’re the Boyles. Their neighbors.”
Boyle. He recognized that name. Weren’t those the brothers who thought they were worthy of the affections of the beautiful Lady Carenza? The idea was laughable.
But suddenly he realized why they were watching over the Dunlop coos. They hoped to do just this—catch a cateran and be rewarded by the laird of Dunlop, perhaps with a betrothal to his daughter. Indeed, they should be grateful Hew had saved them the humiliation of having bloodied their fists on the lass they intended to court.
“Wait,” the bearded one said, furrowing his brows in concentration. “How do we knowye’renot a cateran? We’ve ne’er seen ye before.”
“Aye, that’s right,” the second chimed in. “How do we knowye’renot after the coos?”
“Maybe ye’re this one’s accomplice,” the first Boyle deduced, jerking a thumb toward the cateran.
“Me? I offered you the coo,” Hew pointed out.
“Wearegoin’ to take the coo,” the bearded Boyle said.
“Not now you’re not,” Hew informed him.
“What?” he barked.
“Don’t be tellin’uswhat to do,” the beardless Boyle said. “Our da is a laird.” He made a move toward the coo.
Hew blocked the way.
“How dare ye!” the other bellowed, his beard trembling with rage. “When our da finds out about this…” He made a lunge toward the animal.
Hew blocked him as well.
Their frustration erupted in a spate of cursing and spitting and jostling that made Hew feel like he was trying to contain a pair of wildcats chasing after a mouse.
Carenza had heard enough.
She didn’t intend to turn Hamish over to anyone. Nor would she be dragged back home to face the laird. Not even by the handsome axe-wielder who had somehow made his way unscathed through a rioting mass of cattle in a misguided attempt to rescue her.
He couldn’t protect her for long anyway. Any moment, one of the Boyles would recognize her and run tattling to her father.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
While the three fools were scuffling and swearing like suitors fighting over the same maid, she made a bold move.
