A Highlander in a Pickup - Laura Trentham Page 0,2

in there? She squinted, but the trailer was shadowy inside compared to the bright day.

“Of course you can.” Anna waved a hand, wishing she could spirit the entire problem away. “Just leave the creatures in there and drive away. Keep the deposit. How much was it again?”

“Not about the money. Got two steer in there to deliver south of Nashville, and I’m picking up a full load of milking cows. Ain’t got room.” The first animal out of the trailer was a sheep with a black face and luxurious white coat. “I left her unsheared in case Gareth wanted to demonstrate.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Gareth isn’t here.”

Ewell spit another stream of brown tobacco to the side. “Obviously.”

He handed her the rope lead to the sheep, clopped back into the trailer, and pulled out a hairy brown animal with a set of curved horns. It tossed its head, less docile than the sheep. The cow wasn’t at all like the ones she saw grazing behind fences on the side of the road or the one that jumped over the moon in picture books. Although, honestly, she’d never been this close to one before.

The Highland cow had long, silky-looking brown fur and stubby legs. Hair flopped into its eyes like an adolescent pop stars. The cow seemed to have an attitude to match. It shook its head as if trying to free itself from the harness. Or maybe it wanted to gore one of them with its horns. She took two steps back.

“Gareth is not just not at Stonehaven; he’s not in the country. He’s not here to care for the animals.” Desperation crept into her voice.

Ewell held out the cow’s lead, and she took the rope instinctively. Immediate regrets surfaced while he closed the trailer and walked back toward the cab of the truck. She tried to follow, but the Highland cow refused to budge. All she could do was hang on the end of the tether, putting as much space between them as possible.

Ewell returned with a clipboard and pen. He tapped a blank space at the bottom of the paper held in place on the clipboard. “Sign there.”

She skimmed the paper. It was a lease agreement with a clause to buy at the end of the lease if both parties agreed. The leasing amount would be deducted from the final sale price.

“I can’t sign this,” she said.

“Here. Lemme hold ’em, so you can sign.” He exchanged the leads in her numb fingers with the clipboard and pen. He squinted at the sun. “Not to rush you, but I gots a long drive and an appointment to keep.”

Feeling backed into a corner Gareth had built, she sighed and signed.

Ewell touched the brim of his ball cap with a forefinger. “Thank you, ma’am. Now this here is Ozzie.” He held out the lead of the blackface sheep. “And this’un here is Harriet.” He held out the cow’s lead.

“Ozzie and Harriet?” she murmured. Innocuous names for such large animals. They looked more like a Bonnie and Clyde. She took the leads with a feeling of overwhelmed exasperation. “What the heck am I supposed to do with them now?”

Ewell nodded toward the barn. “That’s what a barn’s for, ain’t it?”

Was it? She thought barns were for drinking and smoking and making out. At least, that’s what they’d been good for in high school.

Ewell swung himself back into his truck and hollered, “Good luck!” out his window as he rolled down the lane toward the main road. Anna was left holding the leads.

“Come on, then. Let’s throw you in the barn while I call for reinforcements.” Anna prayed Holt had time to help her out. It was a busy season for him on his family farm, but he was always willing to lend a hand. The Piersons were avid supporters of the festival, and Holt was training for the athletic competitions, like the stone throw and caber toss, to win Laird of the Games.

Ozzie the sheep followed her with a good-natured, docile attitude Anna appreciated. Harriet, on the other hand, was being a real bitch.

“Move, you foul creature from hell,” she muttered, pulling on the lead. The cow cast a baleful eye in her direction and jerked her horned head. A game of tug of war had commenced, and Anna was losing.

She wasn’t a country girl. She had never owned an animal, not even a dog, and she’d certainly never had to maneuver a cow into a barn. Trying a