“Just a few minutes ago,” Charlie said. “Although I gather he has been up since well before the sun.”
“Does that man ever sleep? Would you mind terribly if we went after him right away? I’m keen on getting back to the dig site, myself, and I’d rather not leave those artifacts and my employer alone together.”
“Of course.” Charlie fumbled the teacup and saucer into the sink with a clatter as I fetched my coat. I was soon mounting a dappled brown-and-white horse that Charlie called Maryanne. I would have given anything for a pair of riding breeches in place of my skirt, but I had not packed any trousers. I nestled in a bit clumsily behind Charlie, feeling awkward and unsteady as I perched sidesaddle on the mare. As Maryanne hastened to a gentle trot, I held tightly to Charlie’s waist. His uniform smelled faintly of starch and cedar, and the trip back to Brisbee’s flew past in a warm blur.
In almost no time at all, the roof of the old farmhouse came into view beyond the trees. “It is a beautiful valley,” Charlie was saying as we cantered up the last leg of the journey. “I’ve explored a great deal since moving here. Perhaps sometime you would let me show you the south hills. There are beautiful waterfalls down that way.”
“Charlie,” I said, “please remember Jackaby’s warning. Mr. Hudson seems friendly, but . . .”
Charlie nodded, sinking into his shoulders a little. “No more transformations. I know. I will try.”
“Is it so hard to give up?”
“It’s difficult to explain,” he said. “It tingles. You know that . . . that prickling sensation you feel when you sit too long and your foot falls asleep? It’s like that, except that it runs through my core. I can contain it, but the longer I suppress the hound, the more my senses grow numb and restless. It has been a blessing to be out here, where I could occasionally . . . stretch.” He sighed. “I do appreciate your concern, truly—but please don’t worry about me, Miss Rook. I am used to being careful.”
Chapter Eighteen
Charlie tethered Maryanne to Brisbee’s hitching post, and I slid down to solid ground. As we rounded the side of the farmhouse, I could see that Jackaby was only halfway up the rugged hillside. He had paused, leaning against a rocky outcrop to watch an angry scene unfold before him. I could hear Owen Horner farther up the hill. “This is absurd,” he was arguing. “You have no right—”
“Gentlemen, if you please,” Hugo Brisbee’s voice chimed in.
“On the contrary,” came a third voice. “I have every right, and a legally binding contract as well.”
Charlie and I hastened up the path and joined Jackaby on the hill. Brisbee and Horner were on their way down, keeping pace with a stuffy-looking middle-aged man in a slate-gray suit and a Panama hat. The stranger held a slim briefcase, waggling it meaningfully at Brisbee, but he did not slow his pace toward the house.
“That miscreant should never have been allowed near the discovery,” groused the man. “It is sadly unsurprising that he has already absconded with priceless artifacts.”
“How dare you—I was the one who reported the stolen fossil!” Horner threw up his hands in exasperation.
The man ignored him and went on. “I have communicated with the police in Gadston that Mr. Horner is not to be permitted within a hundred yards of my property. I’ve been assured I have the full support of the department—ah, and I see they’ve sent someone out already.” The procession had come to us, and the gray man drew to a halt in front of Charlie.
Charlie stepped forward. “I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing of the order, Mr.—?”
“Lamb. Professor Lewis Lamb. I spoke with Commander Bell in person.”
“I’m sure you did. It’s possible that word from the commander has been delayed. In the meantime, I believe we can all behave ourselves.”