She wasn’t giving up. “We have to find her,” she whispered. She couldn’t lose her sister’s trail.
Christian dismounted to inspect the mud. He squatted down. “If there was any parchment here, it has long since been trampled.”
She pointed to the ground. “There are so many horses. Who else would travel along the river?”
Christian shrugged and stood. “Most people would stick to the main roads. Only robbers and brigands use the forest for cover.”
Tingles of trepidation inched up Willow’s spine.
“Does anyone else know Sage has that book?”
She considered his question. The only ones she knew about were Sage, Raven, Christian, and her. Simon, Christian’s brother, thought the book of maps, the red book Brother Nicolas had given her, was the one Sage had. “No.”
He focused on the tracks again. “Then maybe all of these prints are a coincidence.”
Willow tilted her head to the side. “When has it ever been a coincidence?”
Christian agreed with a nod and pulled himself up behind her.
Concern filled Willow. If Sage had gone this way, could these tracks belong to someone pursuing her? Her stomach flipped. This was all her fault. Sage would not have the book if Willow hadn’t taken it from Christian.
“We’ll find her,” Christian said.
Should they search the closest town, Bois, to question the villagers or continue along the river? Which way would a kidnapper go? Where was he taking Sage? “Do you think de Nogaret was going to Bois? Maybe to meet someone? Or for supplies?”
Christian gazed in the direction of the village.
She stared at the tracks in the mud. “Maybe someone in town saw them. Or maybe they are still in Bois.”
“It’s a small village,” Christian explained. “They would have gotten what they needed and left.”
“Or met with someone and are still there.” She turned to him. “We have to find out.”
Christian hesitated. Finally, he nodded and turned the horse toward the village.
Willow didn’t like Christian’s reluctance. As the horse moved alongside the river, she guessed, “You’ve been to this village, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” he said stoically. “I’ve been here.”
That didn’t settle Willow’s nerves. It was the way he said it. Evasively. She imagined he’d been to a lot of places in the years since she had seen him. Maybe it was nothing.
Bois wasn’t far from the river. Flies buzzed in the air as they approached. The scent of freshly harvested wheat and mud greeted them. Two wattle and daub farmhouses were on opposite sides of the dirt road. Trodden paths stretched from each home toward the river. Farther down the street, a building with two walls appeared as though it was being constructed. Besides this, Willow noticed a home with an anvil on a sign before it. A smithy. Next to this was a small structure with a cross on the roof.
A chapel.
“Where’s the inn?” she asked.
“They don’t have one yet. The farmers give travelers food,” Christian replied.
How did he know so much about this village? It seemed he had more knowledge than he would have if he simply passed through.
He guided the horse to the first farm and dismounted. He reached up to help Willow down.
She could easily dismount, but the temptation of touching his strong shoulders was irresistible. She laid her palms against him, and even with his tunic as a barrier, the heat from his body warmed her fingers. When her feet hit the ground, she quickly stepped away from him, surveying the farm.
A black dog barked and bounded toward them down a path.
Christian greeted the dog with a huge smile. “Little Boy!”
