Hero in the Highlands by Suzanne Enoch Read Free Book Online

bogs below, and stopped. Faint mooing came to her ears. “Do ye hear that?” she asked, gathering her skirt and hurrying down the rugged hillside.
    â€œIt could be an owl,” Brian stated, descending more gingerly behind her. “The red’s nae foolish; she wouldnae wander oot here.”
    As Fiona trotted forward, careful to stay on the path, she pointed at a clear set of hoofprints edging one of the mudholes. “Then what’s that?” she retorted.
    A moment later the heifer came into view. She’d stumbled directly into a large mudhole, and stood up to her chest in the thick, dark goo. Her face was muddy, her long red fur caked in the smelly stuff and sticking out in every direction. As Fiona approached, the big animal lurched forward, lowing, and managed to sink another few inches.
    â€œBrady, go fetch us a rope,” she instructed, “and be quick aboot it.”
    The lad ran off toward the village. With a scowl at where Brian Maxwell stood lamenting the heifer’s eminent demise from the safety of the bank, Fiona stepped out of her heavy work shoes and waded into the mud. The stuff was cold—much colder than she’d expected even in the foggy weather, and she gasped in a breath. The bottom sloped steeply downward, and in a moment she was in up to her waist with another ten feet to go before she reached the struggling animal.
    She finally stretched out to grab a handful of heavy fur and pull herself forward. “Dunnae fret, girl,” she cooed, patting the cow on the rump. “We’ll get ye free of this mess.”
    â€œMiss Fiona, are ye mad? Get oot of there before ye get kicked!”
    â€œYe might have said that before I waded in.” Fiona wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, trying to move the pesky tangle of brown curls out of her eyes without depositing more mud in their place. “I’ll climb oot when ye climb in, ye lazy oaf,” she retorted, grabbing the heifer’s tail and pulling sideways. The cold and wet of the mud sucking around her removed the last of her amusement. “No wonder the other lads didnae want to come help ye. This is yer doing, ye ken, because ye couldnae stay away from the tavern long enough to see yer own damned fence mended. I dunnae care who ye thought needed to be bought a drink.”
    With an annoyed moo the cow lifted a few inches, managed a half step forward, then sank down to her chest again. Good Lord, this muck was thicker than Aunt Dolidh’s gravy. Mentally she cursed the downpour of the past three days. To her the weather bore more weight than any foul words long-dead MacKittrick could aim at his own tenants, the arrogant, selfish man.
    â€œMy Brady’ll be back in a quick minute,” Brian countered, stomping a thin film of mud from the bottom of his boots. “And she isnae going anywhere in the meantime.”
    â€œShe’s sinking, ye amadan . She’ll be off her milk for a week as it is, and another six inches’ll drown her if she panics.”
    â€œThen stop yanking on her tail, woman!”
    Narrowing her eyes, Fiona waded deeper into the mudhole. “Dunnae ye ‘woman’ me, old man. Get in front of her and help keep her head up. I’ll nae let ye lose a prime milk cow because ye dunnae want yer boots muddy.”
    The heifer settled deeper on the tail of Fiona’s words, and the animal’s lowing took on an edge of fear. Cursing, Fiona dug both hands into the mud, leaned in, and shoved at the animal’s hindquarters. Sucking cold mud slid up her shoulders to her neck, but the cow lurched forward a foot or so—before she gave up and sank again.
    Today would be the day Tessa chose to go riding. Fiona glanced down at her mud-covered chest. Nae, she wasn’t as amply proportioned as Miss Tessa Dinwoddie, but neither was she daft enough to risk complete ruin by trotting about in a ridiculously low-cut riding habit. Those mighty