Five minutes later Luke sat on an old wooden dining chair in the farmhouse kitchen, his jeans on a coat hook and his injured right leg propped on a milking stool. Cath sat on another chair inspecting his swollen knee. Angie perched on the edge of the plain pine table with the shotgun beside her.
Cath prodded Luke"s knee and frowned. "The cartilage is all over the place. It"ll take a while to get it right.”
He grinned. "I"ve got the rest of my life. Looks like I"m all yours, ladies."
Cath eyed him sternly. "We"ve naught worth running off with, y"know."
He shrugged. "Who"s running?"
"We"ve a cottage to rent," Angie said suddenly, catching her mother"s eye.
Cath was impressed with her daughter"s opportunism. "Two hundred a week," she said. "Take it or go on your way."
He thought a mome
