Satisfied she’d done her best, Shannon stepped back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go murder a man.”

She started down the road, had gotten no more than five paces when she heard the car door open.

“Girl.”

Shannon stopped, turned, and met Maeve’s gaze levelly. “Yes?”

“You made your point.” Whatever effort it took to concede it, Maeve disguised in a brisk nod. “And you have some sense, more than the man whose blood runs through you ever did.”

Shannon inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

While Shannon continued on her way, everyone else gaped at Maeve as if she’d sprouted wings. “Well, are you going to stand around outside all the day?” she demanded. “Get a move on you, Lottie. I want to go in and see my granddaughter.”

Not bad, Shannon decided and quickened her step. If she had half that much luck getting through to Murphy, she could consider it an excellent day’s work.

When she reached the farm and circled to the back, she saw Murphy standing near the paddock of sheep beside a short, bandy-legged man who had his teeth clamped around a pipe.

They weren’t speaking, but she would have sworn some sort of communication was going on.

Suddenly, the older man bobbed his head. “All right then, Murphy. Two pigs.”

“I’d be grateful if you could hold them for me, Mr. McNee. For a day or two.”

“That I can do.” He shoved the pipe further into his mouth and had started toward the paddock when he spotted Shannon. “You’ve company, lad.”

Murphy glanced over and smiled broadly. “Shannon. I’m happy to see you.”

“Just don’t start with me, you baboon.” She strode forward to shove a finger into his chest. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Beside them, McNee perked up his ears. “Is this the one then, Murphy?”

Gauging his ground, Murphy rubbed his chin. “She is.”

“You took your time picking one out, but you picked a fair one.”

Temper bubbling, Shannon turned on McNee. “If you’ve bet on this idiot, you can kiss your money goodbye.”

“Is there a pool?” McNee asked, offended. “Why wasn’t I told of it?”

While Shannon considered the satisfaction of knocking their heads together, Murphy patted her arm. “If you’ll excuse me just a minute, darling. Do you need help getting the lamb you fancy, Mr. McNee?”

“No, I can handle the job, and it looks like you’ve enough on your hands at the moment.” With surprising agility, the old man swung into the paddock and sent bleating sheep scattering.

“We’ll go inside.”

“We’ll stay right here,” Shannon shot back, then swore at him when he took a firm grip on her arm.

“We’ll go in,” he repeated. “I prefer you do your shouting at me in private.”

In his careful way he stopped at the stoop, pulled off his muddy Wellingtons. He opened the door for her, waited as any well-mannered man would for her to storm in before him.