One of the sheep broke free from the others and started back toward the holding pen. Who-hee-who sounded from Mrs. Grant’s whistle.
“That whistle signals Haggis to turn around and bring the stray sheep back to the group,” Kyla informed the others.
A short laugh escaped Alice’s mouth. “Haggis is his name? Poor doggie!” She paused, watching as the dog wheeled around to gather the wandering sheep. “Doesn’t seem to bother him, though. Look at how he’s fast but smooth, so the sheep don’t startle.”
Ian was staring at Haggis in sheer admiration. “I wonder if I should get a border collie to keep Tartan in line.”
“Is Tartan a sheep?” asked Kyla, no longer shy. One slender hand felt around her bun of hair while she talked, checking the pins and making adjustments where needed.
Emily giggled. “Tartan is Mr. Mayor’s dog.” She leaned close to her new friend and whispered. “Sometimes Tartan doesn’t listen when they’re on the beach, and he runs off over the rocks or chases the birds. And one time Tartan got his leash loose and walked right into The Cup & Saucer when Mr. Mayor was eating lunch!”
Kyla covered her mouth and tried to hold in a laugh.
“It’s all right, Kyla,” said Ian. “Everyone in the diner laughed, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t too.” A rueful grin spread across his face. “I could definitely use some pointers from Mrs. Grant or your uncle. Tartan’s a great dog, but his obedience is spotty, at best.”
“What breed is Tartan?” the young girl asked.
“He’s a standard schnauzer,” answered Ian, “and quite a character. I try to make sure he gets enough exercise and social time, but sometimes my job does get in the way. That’s when he tends to get mischievous.”
A burst of applause and cheers brought the group’s attention back to the field, where Haggis was herding the last of the five sheep through the final gate and into the pen.
“That was quick!” Kyla gasped. “Uncle and Clyth are really going to have to move it to beat them!” Her eyes moved to the opposite side of the field to try and see the identity of the next competitor. When a man with a dark green kilt and short, precisely trimmed blond hair approached the starting post, she relaxed. “That’s not Uncle Leath. I think he’s new. I don’t recognize him or his dog.”
It was clear from the first whistled command that both shepherd and border collie were not as accustomed to the timed competition. Compared to Mrs. Grant, the whistles were more tentative, and the dog’s response less precise, which led to much good-natured laughter from the audience as sheep darted this way and that.
Annie covered her eyes for a minute. “I don’t know if I can bear to watch. I feel so sorry for the shepherd!”
Ian placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s just getting the bad run out of his system. People usually learn more from their mistakes than from their shining moments.” He paused, thinking. “When you first started crocheting—and each time since then when you try a new technique—don’t you gain more from those messy first tries?”
Annie widened her hands enough to peak at Ian. “Well, yes. But I didn’t have to parade those messy starts in front of hundreds of people.” She winced at the thought.
“Fair enough,” admitted Ian. He gave a quick laugh. “Here’s another example, one Alice might even remember.” He turned to their auburn-haired friend. “Do you recall my first speech when I ran for mayor the first time?”
Alice’s mouth pursed, and she blew out a long breath. “Do I!” She turned to Annie. “You think this is painful? It’s nothing compared to Ian’s crash and burn. He had us all so confused.”
“She’s not exaggerating,” Ian ruefully admitted. “I was so nervous I mixed up my note cards right before the speech. To this day I don’t actually know what I said, and I’m OK with that. Nothing I experienced in the Navy prepared me for campaign speeches.” He slowly shook his head, lost in the embarrassing memory. “But I never made the same mistake again. And I learned how to be a clear public speaker.”
Annie’s hands dropped away from her face. “Although I’m having a hard time picturing you in that state, I’ll take your word on it. You’re an excellent speaker now.” She dared to take a look at what was happening on the field. “I just realized … they made it into the finals, so they actually did very well for their first year, didn’t they?”
“That’s right!” Kyla’s face brightened. “Their first run must have been much better than this one. Newbies almost never make the finals. I wonder if something happened in between the runs to throw the dog off.”