*
The Clever Fox stables offered a number of horses for loan. The tidy barns, neat tack room and the clean earthy smell all pointed to a well-run, well-cared-for place of business. The owner, a man named Ellard, peered at me as if I was crazy when I inquired about Sandseed horses.
“I wish, missy,” Ellard said. “Sandseeds won’t tolerate multiple riders, but I had one as a boarder here a couple years ago. Ah...she was a thing of beauty she was.” His brown-eyed gaze grew distant. “But I might have a good match for you. She’s a bit older, but smart like those Sandseeds. Come on.”
He led me to a stall in the back of the barn. A gray dappled mare poked her head over the door. Curiosity and intelligence shone in her light gray eyes.
“This here’s The Madam. She’s strong and steady, unflappable in most cases.”
“And what upsets her?”
“Picket fences. Not sure why, but I suspect that scar on her chest might be the reason. It’s just a guess, mind you. But if you keep her away from them, you’ll be fine.”
Good to know. “How much?”
We haggled over a price that included a saddle and tack. When we settled on a price, he saddled The Madam. Then I transferred my supplies, filling the saddlebags with my purchases. The Madam watched me instead of grazing on the grass under her hooves.
I thanked Ellard and mounted. “Let’s go,” I said to The Madam.
She didn’t move.
“Are you sure you have riding experience?” Ellard asked.
“Yes.” Just not with a regular horse. I thought back to my riding lessons six years ago.
I tapped my heels against The Madam’s flanks and clicked my tongue. She lurched forward into a walk. Ellard waved goodbye as we exited his stables. Once we reached the northeastern road, I spurred her into a trot.
As we passed farm fields, tiny villages and forests, I altered The Madam’s gait between trotting, cantering and walking so I wouldn’t exhaust her. At least, that was my intention. Kiki always picked her pace and stopped when she was tired.
A few hours after sunset, I searched for a safe place to rest for the night. This route was too remote for travel shelters, and none of the towns had inns. I needed to find a camping site hidden from view.
An hour later, I discovered a small clearing behind a rock pile, which would block us from other travelers. Since we hadn’t encountered anyone so far, I risked lighting a miniature fire to heat water for my tea.
While waiting for the water to boil, I removed The Madam’s saddle, fed her and groomed her. She stretched her neck and leaned into the currycomb, encouraging me to rub harder. Then she moved around, presenting me with various body parts to comb. The behavior seemed odd to me, but when I thought about it, it made sense. After all, she knew the itchy places on her hide and I didn’t.
I returned to the fire and ate a bland supper of jerky and cheese. At least my cinnamon tea tasted spicy. Memories of past campfires swirled—Ari and Janco arguing over the definition of the word suspect, Leif cooking up one of his delicious road stews, Valek’s gaze meeting mine over the flames as a warmth spread through my body that had nothing to do with the campfire and everything to do with Valek.
Ah, the good old days. As long as I ignored the reasons that sent us on the road and all those miserable nights freezing or being drenched by the pouring rain or experiencing both. Selective recall suited me better—especially when I sat by myself, feeling lonely and skittish.
Plus the alternative, contemplating Ben’s reasons for being near the Ixian border, was unpalatable. Except I should develop a plan of action. He might not be in the area now, but he had to have a purpose for going there. Other than leading the posse away from Fulgor.
I decided to snoop around, following the Sunworth river east. If I found him then I’d... What? Deliver a message to Fulgor, reporting Ben’s whereabouts.
Report him to whom? Part of me was tempted to send a message to Valek. If he’d had his way three years ago, Ben would be dead and all these problems wouldn’t be. Of course, there’d be a whole new set of problems. It never ended. Perhaps I should just travel to Ixia and let Alden and the others deal with Ben and this mystery threat. It was tempting. Very tempting.
But Opal’s comment, “Because we can help and it wouldn’t be right not to,” replayed in my mind. And while I might have lost my magic, I hadn’t lost the past eight years of experience in outsmarting the criminal element. At least I could determine Ben’s location and possible schemes and then send the information to Captain Alden.
Now that I had a plan of action, I doused the fire and tried to sleep. Tried being the key word. Every noise jerked me awake despite The Madam snoozing unperturbed nearby. There was a downside to unflappable. I worried she wouldn’t alert me to danger.
Giving up a few hours after midnight, I packed up the camp and woke The Madam. We’d take our time so we’d reach Red Oak after dark.
*
It didn’t take long to determine the two main sources of income for Red Oak. Between the floating logs and barges, it was easy to guess. The place had a sawmill that misted the air with the fragrance of freshly cut wood and clouds of sawdust. Stacks of lumber filled the wagons trundling south to make deliveries.
Barges loaded with coal bobbed dockside. Men shoveled the black rocks into wagons, emptying the metal boats and paying the tender. Then the barge was tied to a team of horses and pulled back upstream to the foothills of the Emerald Mountains to be reloaded.
By the amount of inns and taverns, I guessed the town benefited just as much from the influx of tenders and merchants as it did from the goods.
I kept to the shadows until I felt safe. A new face probably wouldn’t attract attention, but a female one might. The majority of the laborers were men. No surprise, considering the backbreaking labor and strength needed to muscle the logs and shovel the coal.
After searching the entire town, I found no signs or clues that Ben had been here. None of the waitresses in the local taverns remembered serving them. Disappointed, I continued upstream, scouting two or three small towns each night, depending on the size.
Once I determined Ben and his gang weren’t in town, I moved on. I had no real strategy for figuring this out. It was a gut instinct based on odd or furtive behavior or unusual interest in my presence. I doubted Ben’s men would be working in a mill. After the place settled for the night, I’d visit the tavern for a meal and listen to the town’s gossip. Strangers setting up shop or buying abandoned buildings always caused the locals much concern, which they discussed at length.
When it grew too late, I rented a room and pumped the innkeeper for any news. Then I’d be on the road before dawn.
After three nights of finding and learning nothing besides the general grumbling over the price drop of black coal, I approached Lapeer without any expectations. The place matched all the other river towns. But once I neared, a familiar scent jolted me as if I’d been struck by lightning.
Curare.