Written by Beth
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

A gentle spring rain was falling over the green hills of West Cork and refracting the rays of the peek-a-boo sun that kept drifting in and out of sight behind the rain clouds. Perhaps someone with a lot of time on their hands would have sat back, stunned at the mystical quality this phenomenon gave to the light and feverishly attempted to capture it on canvas, or one of those new-fangled portable cameras. However, the vagaries of Irish weather and the niceties of artistic lighting were not uppermost in young Thomas Ryan’s mind as he scrambled over another rocky ridge in search of a lost lamb.

It was the height of the lambing season, and it seemed to twelve-year old Tommy that a ewe was dropping yet another squirming bundle of wet wool almost every day. He dimly remembered being fascinated by the births when he was a much younger lad, but nowadays, he simply saw it as more work--a time of year when neither he, his older brother Neil, or his father got much rest. Of course, this year was even worse than last as he reckoned it, since his mother was occupied in nursing her own new baby as well as looking after the other three Ryan siblings, Jeremiah, Mary, and Nora. Chaos seemed to reign more and more often in the tiny stone house and Tommy wondered if it would ever get better, especially with the rent being so high on the land and all.

Father kept saying that recent laws were making things better for tenant farmers, but Tommy had yet to see any great change in his family’s lot. There was still far too little soup in the pit and way too many mouths to feed. Not that Tommy was one to complain, though--he was what his mother called a do-it-yourself-er. He worked hard on the farm to help his father and took odd jobs on the side to make his own pocket money. That way, when summer came and the fairs were going around, Tommy needn’t be digging into his mother’s slim store of pennies for a bit of fun.

He sighed softly as he reached the top of the hill and scanned the clumps of brush for telltale signs of dirty white. Still no sign of the wayward little one and Tommy had already been out looking for well over an hour.

"Where in bleeding Christ can ye’ve gotten off to then, you silly git!" he muttered under his breath and pushed back the soft cap that sat atop his tangled mop of russet curls. He blew out a deep breath and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief and mopped his brow, narrowing his eyes against a sudden burst of light as the sun broke free of the clouds.

For a moment, Tommy couldn’t see much of anything as his eyes struggled to adjust to the change and then he saw it--a fluff of white down just over the next ridge.

"Ah ha! I’ve got you now," he crowed gleefully and let out a whoop of joy as he scrambled helter-skelter down the side of the hill.

By the time he got to where he’d seen what he thought could be his lost lamb, he was out of breath, huffing and puffing like a bellows. But the effort was well worth it. There, just beyond a clump of brush, stood the lamb, munching tentatively at a patch of clover, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Oh. aye, and it’s you who’s having the good lunch then, eh, isn’t it?" exclaimed Tommy in disgust. "Come on then. Vacation’s over. Time to head back to the others." So saying, Tommy reached down to heft the lamb over his shoulders when a voice hailed him from above.

"Hoi there--what d’ye think you’re doin’ with my sheep?"

He turned around to find himself looking up at a girl, standing with her arms akimbo and a challenging expression on her rather homely face. She was dressed pretty much as he was, in homespun shirt and vest and pair of britches underneath her skirt which was tucked up out of the way in her belt.

"Eh?" answered Tommy. "What d’ye mean? I’ve been chasing after this here little’un for over an hour. Gone astray from our farm over yonder," he pointed with his chin.

The girl trotted down the remaining yards of hillside that separated them, shaking her head adamantly. "Oh, no, ye don’t. You’re on Cronin land now, boyo, and as sure as I’m Eileen Cronin and you’re Tom Ryan, that’s our lamb, what’s been missing these past three days."

Tommy blinked, unsure of what to say. This girl obviously knew who he was, though he had no idea about her. She didn’t look familiar, though, of course, she did resemble Old Man Cronin, who Tommy often hailed when out herding, quite a bit.

"Well? Are ye just going to stand there all day with out lamb draped ‘round yer bleedin’ neck, or are ye goin’ to say something in ye defense?"

Tommy cleared his throat and stood up a bit straighter.

"Now, lookee here, Miss. I dunno about this story of yours--all I know is that my father sent me out after Old Rachel’s lamb and I’ve spent the whole afternoon at it and it’s getting on towards suppertime and I’d like to be gettin’ back for it, if you know what I mean. Now, this here little’un looks the spittin’ image of Old Rachel and I’m pretty sure that it’s ours. So unless ye can prove otherwise, I’m sticking to my side of the matter, if ye don’t mind."

Eileen now stood directly before him, chin jutting out stubbornly, arms folded across her chest and legs planted firmly on the ground.

"Ye don’t say? Well--let’s have a look at it then. Go on. Put him down," she commanded peremptorily.

"Hah!" exclaimed Tommy, triumphant now. "See...if your lamb’s a boy one, then this has got to be ours, because Old Rachel birthed a she-lamb."

Her face clouded over and she eyed him with distrust. "Then come on and show up. Turn its hindquarters this way so’s I can have a look."

Rolling his eyeballs in exaggerated disgust, Tommy turned obligingly to the side so Eileen could get a better look at the poor creature’s hindquarters. It let out a surprised baa when she lifted up its tail, then quieted down a little as she drew back, defeat written all over her features.

"Aye, you’re right. That’s a little girl all right, and not the well-hung little bastard I’ve been lookin’ for. Look--I’m sorry I challenged ye so hard. It’s just that we’ve had a lot of thievin’ goin’ ‘round lately and my father asked me to be especially careful of anyone comin’ onto our property."

Tommy shifted the weight of the lamb on his shoulders slightly and answered coolly.

"Well, I suppose it’s all right then, but I wouldn’t be treating my neighbors with such distrust. Anyway, I’d best be gettin’ along. Man’ll be lookin’ for me and Father’ll be right glad to see this little one."

He turned to leave, trudging back up the hill he had so recently scrambled down, when her voice caught him in mid-stride.

"Wait! Tom...don’t be angry with me, will ye now?"

He turned around again to see that she stood now with one hand held out, as if to offer truce. He hefted the lamb again, tempted to simply get going and forget about the annoyance this girl was turning out to be. Then his own easy-going nature got the better of him and he returned to where she stood, awkwardly holding onto the bleating lamb with one hand and sticking out the other to shake hers.

"All right--I won’t, but don’t be accusin’ me of bein’ a thief no more, y’hear? If you like, I’ll keep an eye out for your lamb, as well. How’s that?"

She smiled then, and he was dumbstruck by the change in her features. Where before her severe expression had tightened her face and made her look plain, now her eyes sparkled brightly and a dimple showed up in her cheek, turning the ugly duckling into a swan. He swallowed quickly as she shook his hand vigorously.

"Thank you, Tom. And I’m glad you’re not mad. I’ve been thinking that perhaps we could be friends, you and I. What say you?"

Feeling slightly uncomfortable for no apparent reason now, Tommy looked down at his feet and nodded, kicking at a clump of sod. "Sure--that’d be right jolly. Um--I’ll be goin’ then. See you around, Eileen."

She grinned and waved. "See you around, Tom Ryan." She strode swiftly back the way she came, leaving a sorely perplexed, yet not altogether unhappy Tommy to ponder the serendipity of the afternoon.

The End.

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