“Sore hurt, lad. He hit his head when he went down. They ha’ put him in his bed and young Jock has run for the physician.”
“Ah, God!” How bad might it be? Father, for all his years, was a strong man.
“And,” Billy hurried on, “the young master then took Tempest.”
Annista spoke up. “But the horse is no’ fit—”
“I told him so. He did no’ care, took him any road. At least he did no’ try to saddle the poor beast. Went off bareback.”
“Which direction?” Alan asked.
“I did no’ see. But young Tommy, here, ran out the yard and said they went eastward.”
Alan stood, feeling torn. He wanted to set back out immediately, see if he could catch the fugitive. He also wanted to go directly to his father’s side.
“How long ago did ye say this was?” he asked Billy.
“Och, an hour since.”
Evan would have disappeared back into the countryside.
“The horse is no’ fit,” Annista turned to him. “Wha’ shall we do?”
“I maun see my father. Then we will decide.”
****
“How bad is it?” Alan asked his mother who met him at the door of the chamber.
“Son—”
“How fares he?”
“He is awake. Conscious. But—” He saw despair in her eyes.
“Let me see him.”
She stepped aside. Alan hurried to bed, nudging aside the chair where she had no doubt been sitting.
Father lay propped against the cushions. Someone had wrapped his head, but the bolster had turned bright red.
His heart’s blood.
“Father.” Alan’s relationship with this man had been fraught and oft times complicated. But seeing him so brought matters to bedrock. He repeated it. “Father.”
His father focused on him with what appeared to be difficulty. “Alan.”
When the earl reached for his hand, Alan felt a stab of surprise. But he gave his fingers over readily. His father’s grip felt surprisingly strong.
“He was here. Evan.”
“Aye. I heard.”
“He was no’—no’ himself. Even cleared o’ the drink. I think—I think he is gone to the bad.”
Certainly not himself. But then, what was Evan’s true nature?
“Father, they ha’ sent for the physician. Ye will soon grow well.”
