Bryce found tools and began turning the soil. Thoughts about what he could plant occupied his mind.
As his muscles stretched in work, he felt tension move out of his body. Time slipped by, but nagging worry remained.
Why had Lucy left so suddenly? Was she angry with him? Was she coming back? What was he going to do about his future?
Engrossed in his thoughts, he was surprised by a shaft of pain shooting across the back of his head. What sounded like a dozen cackling hens reached his ears.
****
“Dear sister, whatever will we do?”
“Winnie, I say we call the magistrate.”
“But Winifred, that puny man could never lift this monster. Besides, why would we call the magistrate?” asked Winnie.
“Because this man doesn’t belong here,” replied Winifred.
“But he is gardening. Hardly a threat to society.”
“Doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t be here.”
Bryce woke. Opening his eyes a fraction, he noted two tiny gray-haired women, or maybe it was one and he saw double? Whatever the case, they argued above him.
His head ached. After studying and listening, he realized there were definitely two women. They appeared to be in disagreement about what to do with him.
His hand trembled as he placed it to his head. A moan escaped his lips. The women rounded on him. One hefted a metal shovel set to descend upon him once more. Bryce shifted his hand to protect himself.
“Stop beating on the child, Winifred.”
“But Winnie—“
“Let me handle this.” Winnie faced him. He sat up, and his sitting stature almost reached the height of her standing position. “Now sonny, who are you and what are you doing in this yard?”
Winifred interrupted before he could respond.
“Now Winnie, you know he is going to lie. Why ask him anything? I say we hit him on the head again and get the magistrate to come and cart him away.”
“And I say we ask the lad to state his business.”
“Look at him! His breeches stop at his knees!”
“Winifred, my dear, those are Scottish trews.”
“Humph. Look like short breeches to me,” Winifred muttered under her breath. Louder she added, “I’m sorry I’m not as cultured as you. Father didn’t send all of us on an adventure.”
“Winifred Townsend! That was fifty years ago! And it wasn’t an adventure. Father sent me off to marry and when I met the man I ran away. The end. Now stop this nonsense so I can ask this man his business.”
Winifred crossed her arms over her tiny chest. Her wrinkled chin lifted upward in a snobbish air. Her eyes rolled back in her head. It was clear she distrusted Bryce.
Winnie turned back to him and said, “Now sonny, state your business and be quick about it. My sister will only hold her tongue for so long and then she will be off again.”
Bryce opened his mouth and moved his jaw back and forth. It felt locked, probably from the bump to the head. Once his voice returned, he said, “I’m a friend of Lucy Bard.”
Both women raised their eyebrows. Winnie questioned, “Lucy Bard?”
“Aye. I escorted her from Scotland.”
“See, I told you he’d lie,” said Winifred, glaring at him.
“Winifred, hush. Maybe you just hit him too hard. You have to admit the information is close to the truth.” Winnie tapped her finger to her head then pointed it straight into the air. “I know. The man needs tea. We will clear up this mess after a good pot of tea.”
“Winnie, tea won’t make this better. The man’s dangerous.”
“He’s a gardener, dear sis. You go make the tea and I’ll stay and talk with him. When he is ready I’ll bring him along.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Duly noted. Tea, please.”
Winifred left in a huff. The other lady placed a hand under his arm and attempted to lift him from the ground. Bryce found the effort risible and assisted before the woman injured herself.
Once he was standing, the world seemed to sway, and it sent him bouncing into Winnie. Surprisingly strong for her size, she steadied him.
“I believe Winifred was a wee bit overzealous when she struck you. But don’t be too angry with her. The poor dear is so immature. There is only so much that can be done with a youngster these days.”
The woman must have noticed his incredulous look, because she continued, “I’ll speak with her later, don’t you worry. She will be reprimanded.”
It took all his strength not to burst forth with laughter. Winnie appeared to be at least seventy years old. Her gray hair was pulled tightly