Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(237)
Trahern nodded, only too eager to get out of the rain, and Ruark walked back to the last wagon. As he was returning, Ralston paused with one foot on the step of the second carriage and met his gaze with cool contempt; then he gave a shrug and entered. Delaying only long enough to comment derisively on the comfort of Pitney’s elbow, Gaylord followed Ralston into the coach.
Ruark tied Jezebel to the rear of Trahern’s coach and tossed Shanna’s sidesaddle into the covered wagon. When he leaned into the carriage, he saw Orlan examining one of the fur robes, blowing on it as he tested its richness and depth.
“Magnificent!” Orlan murmured. “John Ruark, I could not be more comfortable. Would that I were always served with such foresight. Here I am surrounded by a small fortune, and the Beauchamps use them as lap robes. Remarkable!”
“We’re ready, sir. Shall I give the signal?”
At the man’s nod, Ruark glanced at Shanna and touched the brim of his hat before he withdrew and closed the door. He stood back and waved his arm. A sharp whistle sounded from the driver as he shook out the reins and cracked his whip over the lead team’s head. The coaches moved forward and then lurched as they climbed the lane from the riverside. The drum of the horses’ hooves settled into a rhythm as they loped easily through the streets of the small settlement of Richmond.
They traveled for some distance past open fields, before coming to a junction, where they swung off into a narrower track marked by a large tree with three bold cuts upon its trunk.
“Three Chopt Road,” Ruark called over the rattle of hooves and the whirl of carriage wheels, and at Trahern’s nod, he added, “At the next crossroads we’ll stop at the tavern for a bite to eat.”
“Good man, that John Ruark,” Trahern rumbled in satisfaction as he settled himself back against the seat. “He’s seen to our every comfort.”
Thick forests took over the land. The way was cleared wide to allow easy passage, but where the trees began, the growth was dense; even a man on foot would have found it nearly impassable. True to Ruark’s word, when the caravan came upon another crossing, the drivers swung the carriages from the road and hauled up before a sprawling, many-gabled structure which a weather-beaten sign proclaimed as the Short Pump Tavern. A cheery-faced matron greeted them as the Beauchamp guests, and a table was swept clean and spread with a fresh cloth. No special place was made for Gaylord and with reluctance he joined Trahern, testily dusting the bench with his gloves before sitting. The three drivers casually took places at the far end of the table and gave no more than passing note of the knight’s disdainful stare of disapproval. Mugs of warm spiced cider were passed around. Shanna sipped hers with only meager interest as she wondered what delayed Ruark. Her question was answered shortly when he came in carrying an odd musket nearly as tall as he, which he leaned beside the door. Coming to the table, he placed before Pitney the two huge horse pistols which once had threatened him.
“I found these in your sea chest,” he explained to the inquiry written on Pitney’s broad face.
Doffing a beaver-skin coat which he had taken from the wagon, Ruark spread it to dry in front of the stone hearth, displaying a brace of pistols in his belt. Gaylord found this too much to bear. He shot to his feet in outrage.
“Weapons for a bondsman!” In exasperation he faced Trahern. “Really, squire, I must protest. You treat this bondsman more like a blooded lord.”
Sipping his cider, Trahern only shrugged. “If he protects your hide, what difference does it make to you?”
“Protects my hide? The knave’ll see it bored through!” Gaylord flung out a finger to Ruark. “You! By what right do you bear arms?”
“By no one’s right but my own, of course,” Ruark replied calmly. As the knight drew himself up in victorious arrogance, Ruark continued chidingly, as if he lectured a willful child. “There are beasts, large, bold and of a dangerous bent, and highwaymen are not unknown, though rare. Then there are those heathen savages you spoke of.” Ruark smiled sardonically. “I saw no one else rushing to the fore to protect the ladies.” He grinned into the reddening face of the other. “But rest assured, Sir Gaylord, should you find such a man, I would be much relieved to surrender my arms to him.”
Ruark waited while Sir Billingsham sputtered into silence, and when he gave no further suggestions, Ruark took a seat in a space that had strangely opened between Shanna and her father.
The innkeeper set a steaming mug before him and the mistress of the house brought a huge kettle of stew and began filling plates. A young lad fetched a wooden platter piled high with golden loaves of bread and bracketed with dishes of mounded butter. Small crocks of honey and preserves were set out, and soon the meal was well entered with much enthusiasm by the hungry travelers. Shanna found her appetite more than it had been in weeks, and Trahern met each new taste with rich praise until the matron blushed her thanks. When he rose to leave, she pressed into his hands a gift of her own best plum pudding to eat along the way.