The Highland Crush (True Scotsman #3)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
IONA
Age eleven
“Go on! If you’re so against eating them, set them free.” Lewis McIntyre nudges me closer to the pigsty, his dark-brown eyes twinkling with mischief.
I glare at him and push up my glasses. “This is such a stupid dare. I’m not doing it.”
“Ha! I knew you wouldn’t. You never do anything wrong.”
My face grows hot. Normally, I’m okay with a bit of playful teasing from Lewis. In fact, I usually join in and throw a funny comeback at him. But this gibe gets to me. I hear enough comments at school about how I’m the teacher’s pet or a goody two-shoes. It hurts hearing it from my best friend.
“Just because I’m a vegetarian doesn’t mean I have to free farm animals,” I say.
“Aye, but if you don’t, one of these piggies might end up in my next bacon roll.” Lewis pats his tummy and lets out a contented sigh. “Mmm, bacon.”
“That’s sick! You can’t say that in front of them.”
He grins, and even though he’s getting on my nerves today, I can’t stay annoyed with him when he smiles like that, with his dimples showing. He comes closer, rests his arms on the fence, and sniffs the air. “Wow, they really do stink, don’t they?”
“You’re being so mean. I think they’re adorable.”
The six pink pigs snuffling about the pen have pudgy bodies and curly tails. They’re far from the only animals on Mr Murray’s farm, but they’re the ones Lewis zeroed in on for his dare. We shouldn’t even be here, but we’ve been spending the summer holidays exploring the countryside around Bannock, and when we came to the farm and couldn’t see anyone about, we decided to have a nosy.
“They are kind of cute,” Lewis admits, “but you’re lying if you say they don’t smell.”
“Look them in the eye and tell them you’re okay with eating them.”
“I’m okay with eating you,” Lewis says to the closest pig. “And you, and you...” He addresses all six of them.
I bite my lip and hold back a sigh. That is not the response I’d been hoping for. It’s been a whole week since I swore off meat, and I’ve spent the last seven days trying to convert Lewis too, although without success.
“Are you going to do this or not?” Lewis questions. “I’m guessing not, which means... forfeit dare! Go up to the chicken coop then flap your arms and cluck as loud as you can. Because you, Ona Pona, are a chicken.”
Ugh! Boys can be so stupid sometimes. Lewis normally isn’t as silly as the rest of them, but even he has his moments.
“I’m not a chicken, and you know I don’t like it when you call me Ona Pona.”
“You liked it when we were four.”
“Aye, but that was seven years ago.”
He smirks and shakes his head. “All right, Iona , but you’re only making things worse for yourself. Now, as well as clucking, I want you to shout out, ‘My name is Ona Pona!’”
“Why am I even friends with you?”
“That’s obvious. We live in a small town: options are limited.”
“Oh yeah, that’s why.” I stick out my tongue at him, although in truth there are plenty of other kids we could both play with. But for as long as I can remember, the two of us have been inseparable, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he does wind me up at times, Lewis gets me like no one else does, and I get him.
“The chickens are over there.” Lewis points. “Go on!”
I follow the direction of Lewis’s finger then glance back at the pigs. Opening the gate to let them out would be irresponsible and the last thing anyone would expect me to do. I don’t mind what most people think about me, but Lewis? I care about what he thinks, and it bugs me that he too believes I never do anything unexpected or against the rules.
“I won’t cluck like a chicken,” I say, “because I don’t need a forfeit.” Putting on a brave face, I lift the latch and swing the gate open. My heart races as I wait for the pigs to make a desperate rush for freedom, but... nothing happens. With an occasional snort they continue to sniff around the sty, apparently quite happy where they are.
For a moment Lewis looks shocked that I actually did it, and I take a little satisfaction from that. But he quickly composes himself and shrugs. “All right, now you have to chase them out.”
“Nope! I set them free. If they don’t take advantage of that, that’s on them, but I completed the dare. Anyway, if they’re not going to go anywhere, maybe I should just close this gate and—”
“Oi! What in the name of the wee man do you think you’re doing?”
We whip around to see Mr Murray striding towards us in blue overalls and welly boots. He slams the gate shut then focuses his attention on me. “Well?” he demands. “It’s Iona Stewart, isn’t it? What have you got to say for yourself?”
I’d like to bravely tell him I didn’t want the pigs to be eaten, but I can’t bring myself to utter a single word. I’m not used to getting into trouble and his raised voice scares me.
Lewis steps between me and Mr Murray, acting as a shield. “It’s my fault. I dared her to open the gate. You can shout at me, but leave her out of it.”
The farmer’s bushy eyebrows rise with surprise then he lets out a low chuckle. “Ah, if it isn’t one of the McIntyre boys. Which one, I’m never sure.”
“Lewis,” Lewis says.
“Well, Lewis, don’t worry, I’ll be telling you off too. Are you aware I supply produce to your parents’ hotel, where this one’s maw is head chef?” He gestures to me. “I don’t think your families would be too happy if they knew you were messing about here. What were you doing anyway?”
Finally I find my voice. “I . . . I’m a vegetarian, so Lewis . . . dared me to . . .”
“Ah.” Mr Murray nods seriously. “A wannabe animal rights activist. Believe it or not, I care deeply for my animals. That might be a hard thing for you to get your head around, given what happens to them, but it’s true. I’ll give the two of you a choice. I can phone your parents right now and demand they drive out here and give you a suitable telling-off. Or you can help me around the farm for the next hour and maybe see that I’m no monster and my animals are treated well. What do you think?”
Lewis glances back at me, the mischievous glint gone from his eyes. Without him having to say anything, I know he feels guilty about getting me into trouble. But doing a few odd tasks around the farm doesn’t sound so bad. Actually, it might be fun.
“We’ll help out,” I say. “And if any poo needs scooped up, Lewis is your man.”