get back from the window. He’ll be here in a minute.’
Unaware that Rosie and the dog had caught sight of him, John Tanner continued on his way along the narrowing pathway.
Disturbed by a soft rushing sound, he paused in his stride.
What the devil was that?
Raising his head, he looked across the hedge and over the darkened fields, but all was quiet.
He waited a moment in silence before moving on.
He had not gone far when he heard the sound again, closer this time. Concerned to get back to Rosie as soon as possible, he again quickened his pace.
Smiling, he wondered whether, despite the season, the sounds he had heard were of young lovers in the long grass.
With warmth and great affection, he recalled how over the years, he and Molly had made love in these very fields. They were good memories, which would remain in his heart for ever.
As he pushed along the darkened path, his thoughts refocused on his beloved daughter. He hoped Rosie had done as she was told and stayed inside with the doors locked. He quickly swept past the farrier’s shed and along by the outer row of stables, but a moment later the peculiar sounds brought him to a halt yet again. He stood perfectly still, concentrating on the noises. They seemed to be coming from the direction of the far yard. These were not quite the same as the previous noises; they were lower … like a weird, smothered kind of grunting; much like an injured animal caught in a trap. Poachers! His anger rose immediately at the idea. I’ll bet those damned poachers have been setting traps again, he thought. If there was one thing he hated with a passion it was the barbaric traps that caused animals to die in excrutiating pain.
He remained still, concentrating on the strange sounds, low and broken. After a minute he wondered if the sounds were in fact nothing more than wild creatures searching in the undergrowth for food. Or maybe prowling for a mate.
He listened intently again until he thought he had finally pinpointed where the sounds were coming from. Treading carefully, he made his way towards the far yard.
He had taken just a few steps when the muffled sounds faded into the night, leaving an eerie silence.
He was not certain what to do. Should he pursue the possibility of catching the poachers in the act of grabbing what was his, or should he make his way home to his daughter and hope Molly was there with her? Or, being just a stone’s throw away from the yard, should he take a few minutes to investigate these other noises?
The matter was instantly decided. If I don’t check it out, and in the morning I find some poor creature having met a terrible end when I might have saved it, I would never forgive myself, he thought.
With all his senses on alert, he continued forward, listening for every slight movement in the hedgerows.
As he wound his way through the maze of farm buildings, he was alerted by a volley of what sounded like laughter, and not too far away. There it was again, clearer this time … and closer. Then the sound died away, and all was silent again.
John waited for a moment, and then he heard it again: broken noises, like muffled laughter. With anger rising with his suspicions, he stayed very still, listening intently.
There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same gang of thieves and vagabonds who had stolen from him before. A few weeks back, he’d chased away some young ruffians he’d found in his yard, larking about near the horses. A week or so before that, he’d been robbed of a number of good leather saddles, stolen one night from a locked barn, but if they were hoping to raid his barns tonight and snatch more valuable tack, they might find they’d bitten off more than they could chew.
Cursing quietly, he turned and went at a run back along the pathway towards the big yard, where he cautioned himself to be careful. It has to be them, he thought. They got away with it once, and now they mean to try their hand again.
Going softly into
Unaware that Rosie and the dog had caught sight of him, John Tanner continued on his way along the narrowing pathway.
Disturbed by a soft rushing sound, he paused in his stride.
What the devil was that?
Raising his head, he looked across the hedge and over the darkened fields, but all was quiet.
He waited a moment in silence before moving on.
He had not gone far when he heard the sound again, closer this time. Concerned to get back to Rosie as soon as possible, he again quickened his pace.
Smiling, he wondered whether, despite the season, the sounds he had heard were of young lovers in the long grass.
With warmth and great affection, he recalled how over the years, he and Molly had made love in these very fields. They were good memories, which would remain in his heart for ever.
As he pushed along the darkened path, his thoughts refocused on his beloved daughter. He hoped Rosie had done as she was told and stayed inside with the doors locked. He quickly swept past the farrier’s shed and along by the outer row of stables, but a moment later the peculiar sounds brought him to a halt yet again. He stood perfectly still, concentrating on the noises. They seemed to be coming from the direction of the far yard. These were not quite the same as the previous noises; they were lower … like a weird, smothered kind of grunting; much like an injured animal caught in a trap. Poachers! His anger rose immediately at the idea. I’ll bet those damned poachers have been setting traps again, he thought. If there was one thing he hated with a passion it was the barbaric traps that caused animals to die in excrutiating pain.
He remained still, concentrating on the strange sounds, low and broken. After a minute he wondered if the sounds were in fact nothing more than wild creatures searching in the undergrowth for food. Or maybe prowling for a mate.
He listened intently again until he thought he had finally pinpointed where the sounds were coming from. Treading carefully, he made his way towards the far yard.
He had taken just a few steps when the muffled sounds faded into the night, leaving an eerie silence.
He was not certain what to do. Should he pursue the possibility of catching the poachers in the act of grabbing what was his, or should he make his way home to his daughter and hope Molly was there with her? Or, being just a stone’s throw away from the yard, should he take a few minutes to investigate these other noises?
The matter was instantly decided. If I don’t check it out, and in the morning I find some poor creature having met a terrible end when I might have saved it, I would never forgive myself, he thought.
With all his senses on alert, he continued forward, listening for every slight movement in the hedgerows.
As he wound his way through the maze of farm buildings, he was alerted by a volley of what sounded like laughter, and not too far away. There it was again, clearer this time … and closer. Then the sound died away, and all was silent again.
John waited for a moment, and then he heard it again: broken noises, like muffled laughter. With anger rising with his suspicions, he stayed very still, listening intently.
There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same gang of thieves and vagabonds who had stolen from him before. A few weeks back, he’d chased away some young ruffians he’d found in his yard, larking about near the horses. A week or so before that, he’d been robbed of a number of good leather saddles, stolen one night from a locked barn, but if they were hoping to raid his barns tonight and snatch more valuable tack, they might find they’d bitten off more than they could chew.
Cursing quietly, he turned and went at a run back along the pathway towards the big yard, where he cautioned himself to be careful. It has to be them, he thought. They got away with it once, and now they mean to try their hand again.
Going softly into
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