"Your daughter tried tae run me off the road once." Roger admitted, matter of fact. His tone was succinct and to the point, but it was strangely the stifled laughter of Jamie that caused him to give pause. The comment was directed at Claire, who was rowing the garden for the spring. The two had a difficult time finding topics of conversation, and most seemed to circle back to Jamie and what had happened. Although Roger had come to terms with the fact that his father-in-law had brutally assaulted him over misinformation, it hadn't eased the tension on Fraser's Ridge. Still, the stifled laughter turned into full-on guffawing, causing Roger to hesitate his movements. "She did!"
"Bree? Meek an' quiet Bree? My Bree? Surely not!" Jamie continued laughing boisterously, then paused only to inquire on the next thought. "But how did she rin ye off ay th' road if you're in a carriage drawn by horses?"
Roger froze in place, realizing that Jamie wouldn't know what a car was. The logic was simple, but it was likely to be lost on the Scotsman who believed in the simplicity of his own little world. He looked to Claire for answers, but she continued to be blissfully unaware of the spat just beyond the fence posts of her garden. His hand shot to his forehead with an exasperated sigh. "We were in a car. It's a...horseless carriage. Hence the term car." Jamie gave no inclination that he understood, snickering behind his hand to hide his red cheeks. "It's - it's real!"
"Jemmy calls them Vroom Vroom's. He also calls fire trucks; waterchoochoo's." Claire finally voiced from the garden, kneeling down to pull up weeds now. Jamie's snickering stopped, he moved to the fence to lean over and stare at her. "I'm wondering more along the lines of how she did it. Focused, tight lipped Roger, I don't see you being distracted that easily."
"Aye, you try not tae be distracted wi' a beautiful redhead in your lap." Roger finally answered, blushing a dark red. His mossy green eyes locked with Jamie's ocean blue ones, and a moment passed...then two. And before he knew it, Jamie was chasing after him. "T'was worth it, though!" Roger shouted from the other side of the cabin.
"To be fair, it was my idea," Bree added, basket of flowers in hand as she wandered by the two squabbling men. She knew that Jamie would never hurt Roger, especially knowing they were no wed. She also knew that Jamie had no intention of raising a hand to his son, not unless he ever caused grievous harm to someone in the family. The man's priorities were simplistic and barbaric in that way. "And, he said almost."
"That almost is what might actually save his life," Claire remarked, standing to her feet and offering some herbs to Bree as she passed by. "Your father still thinks he has to defend your honor."
"It's cute seeing Roger make him mad and then run away. Kind of like a necklace that gets tangled in a jewelry box without ever being moved." Claire looked confused, so Bree emphasised her point. "You know, it seems like it's innocent and can't possibly be messed up, but somehow it gets that way after time. I think the older he gets, the more childish he is."
"Men age like whiskey, women age like fine wine." Claire commented, watching the two men running around the encampment with laughter. The two were not intending to harm one another, especially when Jamie leaned down to scoop up some snow and throw it at Roger. "I take that back. Men never grow up."
"Ack! I'm hit! I'm goin' down! Only a bonnie redhead can sa'e me now!" Dramatically falling to his knees, Jamie offered a hand to him. "I said a beautiful redhead."
"An' jus' wha' am I?" Jamie asked, incredulously.
Roger looked up at his father in law with courage and determination. "Not th' kind of redheda 'at could distract me well enough an' run me off th' road!" He lit into a run while Jamie howled with laughter.