See Me (See Me #1)(15)

When I woke, the soft light through our window told me it was early. I struggled out of the snuggly bed and got ready as quietly as I could. Cassidy was still asleep when I slipped out the door in my shorts and flip-flops.

The sun was still only peeping through the trees. A few little people bustled past, nodding at me with curiosity and saying, “G’morning, miss” as they went about their work. A couple of the younger guys stared wide-eyed at my bare legs, making me feel like a naked giraffe or something.

“Excuse me,” I said to a female with a basket full of eggs. “Can you tell me where I might find McKale?”

“Aye,” she said. “He’s in the Shoe House. But ‘tis early for them still.”

She pointed in the direction of the biggest building and went on her way.

The Shoe House was an odd structure, somewhat like a barn with large openings on either end, but nicer like a meeting hall with a steepled roof. I had to cover my nose when I peeked through the doors, though. It smelled gross—faintly putrid with floral undertones. This must’ve been where the tanners made leather.

Nobody was inside yet. At one end was a giant wooden barrel with a crank, and scattered through the room were stations for differing stages of the tanning process and shoe making. Racks of fresh, soft animal pelts lined the walls.

“Oh!” came a voice from behind me.

I spun to face a startled little man with breadcrumbs in his beard. “Hi,” I said.

“Er… hallo. My apologies, miss. I’m not accustomed, ye see, ‘tis not usual fer women folk to be in the Shoe House.”

The smile fell from my face and I quickly stepped out of the entrance, back into the sunshine.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” I tried not to feel offended, but geez.

Someone else approached now and my insides leapt at the sight of McKale, dark red hair hanging damp about his face. He blinked several times.

“Och, Mac, yer not being a superstitious old bag, are ye?” McKale asked him.

The man’s cheeks reddened. “Certainly not. As I said, I’m just no’ accustomed to seein’ a female here, is all.” Mac huffed and gave me a polite nod before disappearing into the Shoe House.

When I looked back at McKale he was totally staring at my legs. In a good way, not the giraffe way. Which gave me a nice feeling.

“Sorry,” I said, making his eyes jump up to mine. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to come here. I was curious about where you worked.”

He shrugged. “’Tis no rule against it. Just habit or tradition, I suppose. Did ye want to look inside?”

“Oh, no. I don’t know.” I smoothed the hair back on my ponytail, nervous and embarrassed by my apparent faux pas. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. Or curse the Shoe House with my girliness.”

He kept a polite expression while his clear hazel eyes studied my face. I hoped he knew I was joking.

“Ye don’t look like bad luck to me,” he said in a soft voice. “Come on. In we go.”

I bit my lip and followed him into the open building to the far side with the gigantic drum barrel on its side. Next to it was a ladder. Without thinking I covered my nose against the strange smell permeating the area—not rotten exactly, but definitely unpleasant. When McKale turned I dropped my hand.

“Does it smell bad to ye?” he asked.

“A little,” I admitted.

A tiny grin traced his mouth. “Ye should get a whiff of the main tanning house. It’s kept clear on the other side o’ the property. That’s where the lads do the slaughter and skinning and soaking—” He broke off when he saw the grimace on my face. “Aye. My apologies. Here we extract the essential oils from flower petals usin’ steam to make tanning liquor.” He pointed at some barrels and contraptions around the room. He went on to explain the process with words like “thinned, dried, conditioned, and buffed” but I was lost to it all.

“You guys kill… cows?”

“Deer,” he said. “And naught goes to waste.”

I wasn’t a vegetarian, but the thought of all that “fresh meat” on the premises was still unsettling.

Little men were starting to trickle in now. Some gawked and nudged each other when they saw McKale and me. I sent McKale a worried glance, and he bent his head toward the drum barrel for me to follow. On the other side of it we were out of sight from the men. McKale led me forward and stood behind me, pointing at the parts. On top was the opening. We could both reach it, but the little men would have to use the ladder.

“The skins soak in the tanning liquor and we crank the barrel… here, give it a go.”

I couldn’t get it to move at first, so I threw my weight into it until it gained momentum. Once it got going it was kind of fun. I got a bit carried away until I wondered what McKale must have been thinking. I became suddenly aware of his presence close behind me. I felt my ponytail lift and I stopped cranking. A slow turn of my head caught McKale letting the hair fall from his hand. He’d been smelling my hair. And now he wore an expression like a boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

It probably should’ve been creepy, but the small gesture of intimacy made my scalp tingle in a not-at-all creepy way.

He stepped away, his cheekbones pink. “I… yer hair… how do ye get the scent into it?”