The Green Witch

Chapter Three

     The next day, she went into town a little early so she could look in and see how Dougal was doing before going to teach class.

     The lad was awake, she was relieved to see, and was sitting up in bed, his back against a great pile of pillows. His leg was splinted between two stout lengths of wood and there were bruises on his face and arms. He was a handsome lad, she saw. Fit and muscular, with the beginnings of adult hair on his broad, bare chest. She felt her body responding to it and forced the feelings away with an effort.

     "Thank you for saving me," he said when he recognised her.

     "I'm glad I happened along," Tala replied. "How are you feeling?"

     "I hurt everywhere," the lad replied with a rueful smile. "I'm probably not supposed to say that. I should be manly and brave, to impress you."

     "False displays of manliness don't impress me," Tala replied. "I just think they're stupid, and I don't think you're stupid."

     "Thanks," Dougal replied, his smile turning genuine.

     "What was stupid was tearing along that road fast enough to break an axle on a pothole. Why were you in such a hurry?"

     Dougal looked down at his splinted leg. "My Da wanted the spuds in Sweddell in time to meet Mikkel the Merchant," he said, "and he were leaving town at midday. I were delayed by a tree that fell across the track. Took me and me Da two hours to shift the thing."

     "Was it so important to get your potatoes to the merchant that day? He'll be back next week."

     "Aye, and by then he might have bought all the spuds he needs from someone else. We'd be left taking our spuds to Merrin ourself and selling them at half the price to undercut him. And that would have made an enemy of him and he'd have put the word out on us with all the other merchants."

     "And now, not only have you missed the merchant but you'll be in no state to work the farm for a month at least, and with the ploughing season coming on." Tala scowled reproachfully at him. "My Ma used to say that haste is more important than speed."

     "Your Ma sounds like a wise woman," said Dougal with another smile.

     "She were, before the fever carried her off."

     "I'm sorry," said Dougal. "That were in forty nine?"

     "Aye." Tala turned to look out the window, unwilling to show emotion in front of a stranger.

     "Lot of people died that year. My brother died the same year. And my uncle as well, although he lived fifty miles away and we hardly ever saw him." Tala said nothing.

     "May I ask the name of the pretty lady that saved me?" asked Dougal, lifting himself to sit higher on the bed.

     It took Tala a moment or two to realise who he was referring to. "Tala," she said. "My name is Tala."

     "That's a pretty name."

     Tala said nothing but her face smiled all by itself. She thought about leaving. She'd seen that the lad was alright and her class would soon be waiting. She had no further reason for being there. She felt her eyes wanting another look at his bare chest, though. One quick look would do no harm, she thought, and it was rude to keep her back turned to him. She turned back to face him, therefore, and let her eyes satisfy themselves, but then she made herself focus on his face in case he saw and got the wrong idea. It was a handsome face with a warm, genuine smile. A face that was easy to look it. He was trying to grow a beard, she saw, but it was nothing more than a few straggly wisps of brown hair so far.