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“You never mind them, now get over here,” she commanded him.
He dragged his feet as he slipped past us and over to the protective wing of his mother. She eyed us with less curiosity and more suspicion. “What brings you folks around here?”
Ben cleared his throat. “We were hoping to have a few words with Farmer Gebur.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My husband isn’t you, so you may as well leave.”
At that moment a ruckus came from the chicken coop. A dozen feathered fiends flew the coop and scattered to the far corners of the farmyard.
Cip’s eyes widened. “I forgot to shut the door!”
“Get them!” his mother shouted as she practically threw her son toward the foul fowl.
Cip flew past us and his mother followed on his heels. Ben grabbed my hand and, with a twinkle in his eye, tugged me after them. “This should be fun.”
I grinned. “Bet I can get more than you.”
Ben and I got in on the chase and rounded up as many as we could catch. The clucking curs were great at dodging but they weren’t too good at hiding. I managed to pluck a couple out from beneath our carriage while Ben came strolling out of the barn with a half dozen clutched tightly against his chest. They flailed about and tried to flap their wings, and I was very amused to find one had pooped on his pants.
“Nice decoration,” I teased as we reconnoitered at the chicken coop.
He nodded down at my shirt. “Same to you.”
I dropped my gaze to my attire and my face drooped. One of the blasted birds had left a little present on me. I gladly tossed my group into the coop and Ben followed suit. Cip and his mother hurried over to us and Ben and I acted as defense so they could safely throw their loads inside without more escaping.
Ben shut the door and secured the clasp before he turned to Mrs. Gebur with a smile. “We thank you for the very exciting morning.”
She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. “I wish it hadn’t been so.” Her gaze dropped to her son and she frowned at him. “Now you get that basket in the house right now, young man.”
“But Ma, I didn’t mean to,” he countered.
She plucked the basket from the ground, shoved it into his arms, spun him around so he faced the house, and swatted his butt. “No arguing, young man, just get inside.” Cip stumbled forward but found his footing and scurried into the house. Mrs. Gebur turned to us with a more pleasant demeanor. “Thank you so much for helping us.”
I shook my head. “It was our pleasure, really.”
She gasped as she beheld our attire. “My goodness, but look at you! Those girls have got you covered in them!”
Ben sheepishly smiled at her. “I would say we match the barnyard.”
She looped her arms through each of ours and dragged us toward the house. “Well, I can’t have you leaving in such a mess, not after you’ve helped us!”
We didn’t have much choice in the matter as our hostess pulled us through the door and into the cozy house. The home was filled with light and the soft smell of fresh bread wafted through the air. Our hostess drew us into the front parlor where she plopped us into a pair of chairs seated near a crackling fire. The furniture was simple but functional, with plush pillows to cushion our posteriors from the hardwood.
She slipped between the fire and where we sat and clasped her hands in front of her as she smiled at us. “Now you two remove your clothes and I’ll get them washed in no time.”
I turned my head creakily toward Ben as he offered me twinkling eyes. “We’ll give you what you desire, Mrs. Gebur, but could we have some privacy?”
“Oh yes, of course!” She flew past us and over to the door where she turned and grasped the knob. “Now hurry along with those clothes and I’ll see what I can find in our drawers.” And with that, she shut the door. Her hurried footsteps moved up the stairs to the second floor.
“I swear you plan these things,” I muttered as I unbuttoned my shirt.
Ben was all grins as he unbuckled his belt. “I couldn’t plan these escapades even if I tried, and it would be impossible to convince a chicken to assist me.”
I paused in my undressing and lifted an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
They’re not particularly fond of dragons,” Ben mused as he grasped the waist of his trousers. “There’s some history between them where the chicken always ended up roasted.”
Ben dropped his pants and I paused in my undressing to take in the view. He was, regretfully, wearing underwear, but the noticeable bulge caught my attention. I was only shaken from my perusal by a soft chuckle from the subject in question.
