Chapter Two

The following morning started off with a bang, literally. Margaret awoke to shots being fired well before the sun had even risen outside. She jumped up and ran downstairs to see what was happening. The front door stood open and she could hear Angus outside muttering loudly to himself.

“Angus?” she called from the door, looking around to see if there appeared to be any danger.

“I’m sorry, Margaret. Coyotes,” he replied.

“Coyotes? What were they doing?” she asked struggling to see what lay at his feet in the near darkness.

“They chased a dog up here. I found them fighting on the porch when I came down this morning,” he said.

“Is it dead?” she asked, always having had a soft side for animals.

“No, not yet. I was just about to shoot it when you came out,” he replied.

“Shoot it? Don’t you dare, Angus!” she shrieked, suddenly out the door and crouched down beside him to look at the dog. It was hurt badly, but nothing looked like something that couldn’t be healed with some time. It wasn’t really even a dog, more like an overgrown puppy that couldn’t have been more than six months old.

“It’s hurting, Margaret and I don’t have time to tend to it,” he told her.

“I’ll tend to it,” she replied, stroking its muzzle to soothe it’s whimpering.

“You don’t have time to tend to it, either,” he said, sounding a little cross with the idea of her wasting time on a gimpy dog.

“I’ll make time, Angus. Please? Give him a chance,” she replied, looking up into his handsome face. Angus studied her own for a moment. He seemed to notice, for the first time, that she was in her nightclothes and shifted his gaze.

“Okay, Margaret, but he can’t be any trouble. We have enough on our hands here,” he replied.

“Thank you, Angus!” she said excitedly, forgetting herself and leaping forward to hug him. It was then that she remembered she was in her nightclothes and stepped back, turning her attention back to the dog. “What shall we name him?”

“I’ll let you choose. He’s your dog now,” he said, shaking his head and reaching down to lift the dog up in his arms. “We’ll put him in the house until morning or they may come back to finish him off. There are some old blankets in that empty room across from yours. Run grab one and we’ll make him a bed in the front room.”

Margaret hurried to find one and brought it in, watching as Angus lay the dog on it. He really was chewed up pretty badly. She went to the kitchen and fetched some water and looked around for some sort of old cloth, but couldn’t find one. Returning to the dog, she found Angus kneeling by him, stroking his muzzle and it made her smile.

“Angus, I need an old cloth of some sort to clean his wounds,” she told him.

“Are you wearing a pair of my long johns?” he asked unexpectedly, taking note of how they stuck out from the arms and legs of her gown, she supposed. She blushed.

“Yes, it was a bit chilly last night and I borrowed them from your wardrobe. I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

“No, of course not. They are a bit big for you and still look much better than they do on me,” he replied.

Now, both of them blushed with embarrassment and then laughed a little. She watched as Angus pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. Dipping it into the bowl of water she had brought, she began cleaning the dog’s wounds.

“I’ll start getting us some breakfast together and find something for him to eat. He looks like he hasn’t had anything in a while and will need his strength,” Angus told her, leaving for the kitchen.

Margaret heard him adding wood to the stove to get it going and then banging around dishes. After quite a bit of work cleaning the puppy, she discovered that he seemed to only have a couple of gashes that were of any consequence. Most were very shallow and the two that weren’t would heal well enough in time. She ripped the white hem at the bottom of her night dress and made two strips to wrap around the worst of his injuries. By the time Angus returned with some scraps he had found for the poor thing, it was wagging its tail and looking less fragile already.

“Listen, Margaret. I know you want to keep the dog, but you will have to keep a close eye on him. We have no way of knowing if those coyotes had rabies. If he heals up okay, fine and good, but if he starts showing any kind of aggression, he’ll have to be put down,” he told her quietly.

“I understand, Angus,” she replied, taking note of the blood on his shirt where he had brought the animal in. “Take off that shirt and I’ll get the blood out of it before it sets.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile.

Margaret waited while he removed his shirt, making sure she didn’t gawk at him in a state of partial undress. He certainly wouldn’t want to marry her if she seemed like some sort of jezebel. Of course, he might not want to marry her if he knew about the men that might come looking for her. It was something she hoped would just go away with her being so far from home. She took the shirt from him and retrieved a basin to put it in, filling it with cold water in which to soak. As she spread the shirt out in the water, she noted a ripped spot on one of the sleeves.

“Angus, let me see your arm,” she said, suddenly alarmed.

“It’s okay, Margaret. Just a scratch,” he replied, obviously realizing she had spotted the tear in his shirt.

“I’d like to see, just the same,” she replied, walking toward him.

Angus held his arm out toward her, revealing a large gash on the back of his forearm. It was still caked with dried blood and looked pretty bad. She retrieved an old cloth from a stack he had nearby, wet it in the sink and began cleaning it. It was a pretty long gash, but not too deep and it had already stopped bleeding. She looked up at him with genuine concern.

“A coyote did this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, glancing down at her.

“With a claw or his teeth?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Everything happened so fast. I heard the noise and ran out to try to get rid of them. I thought they would run when they saw me, but one of them came at me. I tried to get the gun down to shoot him, but wasn’t quick enough. He did that before I got a shot off. I gave up on trying to aim and just pulled the trigger. It scared them away,” he told her, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“Looks like the dog isn’t the only one I need to watch,” she said.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“We will just hope for the best then. Let me go finish the breakfast you started and you can get a fresh shirt,” she said.

“Perhaps you should get dressed first,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.

“Oh. Yes. I’m… of course,” she stammered, realizing how inappropriate it was for her to be running around in her night clothes when they weren’t yet wed. “I’ll bring you a shirt downstairs when I come back.”

She could feel him watching her as she climbed the stairs. Angus McCord might be a bit rough around the edges and it might be a harder life here than she might have expected, but she still had the feeling it would be a good life and that she could find happiness here. That is, as long as any unhappiness didn’t find its way to her. The nagging thought that she should tell Angus about the men remained, but things were already going so well between them, she didn’t want to upset the apple cart.

She quickly tossed on one of her plain dresses, foregoing the bustle, as there was no need for that here, then grabbed a clean cotton shirt for him and headed back downstairs. As an afterthought, she turned back and tore another section from her gown and took it downstairs.

“What are you doing?’ he asked, looking over at her as she interrupted his setting out plates of food on the table by putting her hand on his arm.

“I’m putting at least a makeshift bandage on this. If we are going out to work in the fields, I don’t want you getting an infection,” she replied, tying the strip of white cotton around the open wound on his arm.

“If I get rabies, it will be of little difference.” He smiled.

“I would prefer if you don’t get rabies, please. I can’t have you making me a widow so soon,” she replied as she finished the bandage.

Angus studied her. Then, it was if he realized it and forced himself to retreat, becoming more pragmatic. Margaret suspected that the last thing he had expected was to develop any affection toward her so quickly. Perhaps, like Margaret, he had thought they would merely coexist, working toward a common goal of surviving life here on this farm. Instead, there did seem to be at least a bit of chemistry between them that couldn’t be denied.

“Sit down and let’s eat. We have a lot to do,” he replied.

“This looks delicious,” she said, taking a seat in front of a plate of fresh eggs, a slice of bacon and a crust of warmed bread. A jar of what appeared to be apple jam sat on the table between them.

“Enjoy it while you can. If things don’t pick up around here soon, I’m afraid we’ll be living off biscuits and the homemade jam I have stockpiled in the cellar for a lot longer than either of us would enjoy.”

“I think I could,” she replied.

“You say that now, but you’ll be singing a different tune after months of nothing but that.”

“I guess we better finish our food and get to work then,” she told him.

They settled into their breakfast, finishing it quickly before getting the dishes cleared away and dressing for their early morning wedding. It would be no frills, just a simple ceremony and then back to the farm to toil in the fields. No doubt that it was a far cry from what she had imagined for her wedding day, but it seemed that a lot of her old dreams would have to be forgotten now.