Read Online Vixen Hunted by Christopher Kincaid - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Kincaid
Tags: Fiction
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resourceful than I want to admit. You make sense, shepherd. He will expect
me to keep to the woods." She pulled at her red locks. "I will stand
out."
She skewered him with
her gaze.
"What? I didn't do
anything."
"Not yet! But I
know how twisted a shepherd's mind can be. Do not think I will be easy prey one
night. You will not worm out of your promise either."
The quip struck a
nerve. Maybe it was the strain of events or the unexpected shift in
conversation or being scared awake, but Timothy felt his calm shatter.
"That is not
something to joke about! I am not that way. I keep my word!"
Her spoon froze on her
lips. Her smile withered.
"I have work to
do." He banged the barn door shut. How dare she accuse him of being a
promise breaker!
Abel kept Timothy too
busy for his anger to hang on for long. The farm showed its long history in how
much needed to be done. Timothy spent an itchy morning scything the brown hay
field and bundling it for storage.
Timothy leaned on the
scythe and drank from a water skin, his shirt soaked with sweat. The scent of
grass clung to his nostrils. He felt bad for snapping at Kit. She had to be
feeling more strain than he was. He needed to apologize. Timothy looked at the
late summer sky and wiped his brow.
Then he heard the dogs.
Timothy's breath
caught. His hands tightened on the scythe.
A leathery farmer
sauntered out of the fields with a pair of hounds. "Abel! I see you have
yourself a hand!" The two young beagles yipped and leaped over each other.
Abel's hammer continued
its work. "Just found help for a day. What brings you, Quinn?"
Timothy exhaled. The
beagles noticed Cat grazing out in the field. The tongues with fur bounded over
to play. Cat heaved a sigh Timothy could hear even at that distance.
"You didn't hear
the news, I take it?" Quinn rubbed his hands. Timothy wondered if all
farmers made tree stumps look soft.
"Nope." Abel
straightened and leaned on the fence post. It creaked. He dug out his horn
pipe. "But you're gonna tell me."
Quinn bobbed his head.
"I saw a couple nobles out hunting."
Cat and the beagles
romped in the field. The lamb bleated with annoyed patience.
"Hunting? This far
from the wood?" Abel stuffed the pipe with a thumb.
"Aye. Caught my
attention it did. A fat noble and a squirrely one with all their hands."
Quinn leaned against the fence slat. The slat bent under his weight but held.
"They carried
muskets." Quinn spat. "I fancy my bow and spear."
Abel puffed his pipe.
Timothy gathered the newly shorn hay and listened.
"They were riding
west when one large bloke with a scar on his face stopped. He looked like he
had drunk turned milk." Quinn leaned closer to Abel, but his voice grew
louder. "You want to know what bloke he was? Well, one of the noble's
hands stopped and called after him. Wondering what was going on. The hand
called the bloke Tahd."
"Tahd," Abel
said. One of the beagles yelped as Cat held it by a dangly ear.
"You know. Tahd
the Hunter. The bloke is said to have hunted everything there is to hunt. And
he looked like Tahd."
"Who you've never
seen."
Quinn waved his hand.
"Doesn't matter a bit. I heard the stories enough to know what the bloke
looks like. What he was doing with a fat noble has me scratch me head. I heard
something else too."
"Might as well out
with it." Abel puffed a series of smoke rings.
"There is a fox
around."
Timothy froze. A gust
of hot wind kicked up dust and grass. He sneezed.
Abel hesitated.
"Bah. All the vixens be dead now." Abel straightened. "Essa be
on you if you're drinking again."
"Just what I'm
hearing. What else would a fat noble and Tahd the Hunter be hunting? I wonder
what makes Tahd ride off east when the noble went west?"
"Not for folk like
us to know." Abel tapped out his pipe. "There is more work for me if
you want to help."
"Naw. Essa has
enough to keep me busy. She wants you to come over for supper some night soon.
Course, Mary be invited too."
Abel grimaced. "I
am not some lad to be
me to keep to the woods." She pulled at her red locks. "I will stand
out."
She skewered him with
her gaze.
"What? I didn't do
anything."
"Not yet! But I
know how twisted a shepherd's mind can be. Do not think I will be easy prey one
night. You will not worm out of your promise either."
The quip struck a
nerve. Maybe it was the strain of events or the unexpected shift in
conversation or being scared awake, but Timothy felt his calm shatter.
"That is not
something to joke about! I am not that way. I keep my word!"
Her spoon froze on her
lips. Her smile withered.
"I have work to
do." He banged the barn door shut. How dare she accuse him of being a
promise breaker!
Abel kept Timothy too
busy for his anger to hang on for long. The farm showed its long history in how
much needed to be done. Timothy spent an itchy morning scything the brown hay
field and bundling it for storage.
Timothy leaned on the
scythe and drank from a water skin, his shirt soaked with sweat. The scent of
grass clung to his nostrils. He felt bad for snapping at Kit. She had to be
feeling more strain than he was. He needed to apologize. Timothy looked at the
late summer sky and wiped his brow.
Then he heard the dogs.
Timothy's breath
caught. His hands tightened on the scythe.
A leathery farmer
sauntered out of the fields with a pair of hounds. "Abel! I see you have
yourself a hand!" The two young beagles yipped and leaped over each other.
Abel's hammer continued
its work. "Just found help for a day. What brings you, Quinn?"
Timothy exhaled. The
beagles noticed Cat grazing out in the field. The tongues with fur bounded over
to play. Cat heaved a sigh Timothy could hear even at that distance.
"You didn't hear
the news, I take it?" Quinn rubbed his hands. Timothy wondered if all
farmers made tree stumps look soft.
"Nope." Abel
straightened and leaned on the fence post. It creaked. He dug out his horn
pipe. "But you're gonna tell me."
Quinn bobbed his head.
"I saw a couple nobles out hunting."
Cat and the beagles
romped in the field. The lamb bleated with annoyed patience.
"Hunting? This far
from the wood?" Abel stuffed the pipe with a thumb.
"Aye. Caught my
attention it did. A fat noble and a squirrely one with all their hands."
Quinn leaned against the fence slat. The slat bent under his weight but held.
"They carried
muskets." Quinn spat. "I fancy my bow and spear."
Abel puffed his pipe.
Timothy gathered the newly shorn hay and listened.
"They were riding
west when one large bloke with a scar on his face stopped. He looked like he
had drunk turned milk." Quinn leaned closer to Abel, but his voice grew
louder. "You want to know what bloke he was? Well, one of the noble's
hands stopped and called after him. Wondering what was going on. The hand
called the bloke Tahd."
"Tahd," Abel
said. One of the beagles yelped as Cat held it by a dangly ear.
"You know. Tahd
the Hunter. The bloke is said to have hunted everything there is to hunt. And
he looked like Tahd."
"Who you've never
seen."
Quinn waved his hand.
"Doesn't matter a bit. I heard the stories enough to know what the bloke
looks like. What he was doing with a fat noble has me scratch me head. I heard
something else too."
"Might as well out
with it." Abel puffed a series of smoke rings.
"There is a fox
around."
Timothy froze. A gust
of hot wind kicked up dust and grass. He sneezed.
Abel hesitated.
"Bah. All the vixens be dead now." Abel straightened. "Essa be
on you if you're drinking again."
"Just what I'm
hearing. What else would a fat noble and Tahd the Hunter be hunting? I wonder
what makes Tahd ride off east when the noble went west?"
"Not for folk like
us to know." Abel tapped out his pipe. "There is more work for me if
you want to help."
"Naw. Essa has
enough to keep me busy. She wants you to come over for supper some night soon.
Course, Mary be invited too."
Abel grimaced. "I
am not some lad to be
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