Page 51 of The Eagle

He continued until reaching the main road and dismounted. In truth, his horse was quite large and intimidating. The animal was at home on the battlefield, fearless and trained to trample the enemy. Not exactly the type of horse to make people feel at ease.

Ewan met his gaze. “I like the place. I think it suits ye.”

Turning to the horse, he patted the animal’s head twice. It was a command to keep its head bent and give an illusion of meekness. The horse snorted to communicate its annoyance but did as commanded.

Pulling the horse behind, Stuart walked to the first shop. It was a bakery. The man behind the counter started at seeing him and rushed to the door. “Mister Stuart. I wondered how long it would be before ye came to the village.” The man gave a slight bow. “I am Albert Smith.”

Stuart took advantage of the fact that the man seemed pleased to see him. “How are things here at the moment? I heard there was a problem with yer livestock.”

“Aye, it was quite horrible. We lost almost all the cows, except for the few that belong to the constable. Managed to save most of the sheep, which is good.”

“Do the sheep belong to the constable as well?” Stuart eyed the man, noticing he’d become nervous.

“I am not sure.” The baker seemed to realize he should probably not be having this conversation. “Can I gift ye some bread?”

Stuart accepted several loaves but insisted on paying. The baker was a likable man and Stuart informed him that there was work available if he knew of men needing it.

Continuing, the next shop he stopped at was a cobbler. The man sat outside his shop, leather atop a form as he worked without looking up. Despite the man pretending not to notice him, Stuart had seen him looking over when he’d been speaking to the baker.

This man was slight, with thinning hair and he moved quickly giving the impression of someone who was always nervous.

“I am Stuart Ross…”

“I am well aware Mister Stuart,” the man interrupted. “Welcome.” Still, he did not look up, his hands smoothing down the leather.

“Why are the villagers so scared of the constable?” Stuart asked knowing it would startle the man.

His question had the desired effect. The man’s eyes rounded, and he looked in the direction of a large house in the distance. “We are not scared of him.”

“That is not the impression I get. Tell me. What do ye think of him?”

This time the man’s hands dropped down to the tabletop. “He is a strong man, who ensures the village has order.”

“Order,” Stuart said then looked to the house. He remembered it. When he was a child, he’d visited his great uncle and great aunt, who’d lived there. The house belonged to his family. Had his father gifted it to the constable? Somehow, he doubted it.

Then again if it was empty, it was better to put it to use.

Stuart considered that it could possibly be a better location for him and Cait. He’d have to ask her where she preferred to live.

“Order should be maintained by a constable. However, it is not his position to take from those he is sworn to protect.” Stuart met the man’s gaze. “A good and fair man does not rule by fear.”

The cobbler nodded. “I am Roger McTernan,” the man said standing and giving a slight bow. “Welcome, Laird.”

Laird. The word hung in the air. Stuart nodded in return and continued on.

Chapter Fourteen

Cait looked up from her embroidery when her mother walked into the parlor. Each time she saw her mother, Clara, now, she was struck at the difference. Not only had her health improved dramatically, but in clothes of better quality, she looked every bit a lady.

“I was searching for ye,” her mother said settling into a chair, her face automatically looking out to the view. “Ye have kept to yerself for a few days now. Lady Mariel is worried.”

For a moment, she considered her words. “I do not belong here, Mother. Stuart is not going to return. What will happen to us then?”

“Ye worry overmuch,” her mother protested. “In the last message, Stuart informed ye of how much there was still to do. It is obvious he has been delayed.”

Cait shook her head. “Already the entire season has passed. Winter has set in and with it comes the rainy season making travel difficult.”

To ignore the silence, she began embroidering again. It was a simple design that Lady Mariel had taught her. Dainty flowers and leaves, in a chain pattern. As well as embroidery, a tutor had been hired to teach her to read and write. She’d taken to both quickly, soaking in as much as she could on the chance she’d be forced to leave and start anew.