Jax scratched under her chin, cooing and blabbering all kinds of nonsense. Suddenly, he froze, his hand still on Phoebe’s neck and his eyes fixated on a pile of straw in the corner. “Say, Lassie, your goose doesn’t happen to lay golden eggs, does she?”
Atlas dropped his axe to his side. There was no point in threatening the man with it if there was a chance he might hurt Phoebe in the process. He reared his head back in surprise. “What? Of course not.”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“I think I would know if my goose did something as unusual as lay golden eggs,” he drawled.
“Excellent.” Jax hopped lightly to his feet, then bowed deeply at the waist with a flourish. “It has been lovely to make your acquaintance, but I regret to inform you that I must be on my way.”
“No need to regret it. I don’t.”
“And there are those charming manners again. You truly are a paragon of warmth and welcome, Lassie.” Jax held two fingers to his forehead and flicked them out in a salute. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“Please don’t,” Atlas called after him as Jax quickly exited the barn and disappeared from sight. He looked down at Phoebe with a mock glare. “You shouldn’t be so trusting with strangers.”
She looked up at him with what he interpreted as the goose equivalent of an eyeroll, honked once, then wandered past him in the direction of the house.
He sighed heavily and rubbed a tired hand over theback of his neck as he turned to follow, raising his voice to call after her, “Not all strangers will be as kind as I was, you know!”
Normally, the act of washing away the dust and grime of a hard day’s work was enough to restore him to some sense of equanimity, but Atlas was still in a sour mood as he approached the kitchen in search of dinner. The sound of voices echoing through the hall was the final nail in the coffin of his patience. He let out a frustrated growl, then yelled the same question from the day before, “What’s that I smell, Ms. Fumley? Another boy you’ve brought to boil for my breakfast tomorrow?”
He stormed into the dining room, momentarily surprised to see two guests at the table. He quickly recovered, narrowing his eyes into a dangerous glare. “You again.”
Jax waved without setting down his fork. “Lassie! I wasn’t expecting the pleasure of your company for dinner. Your entrance at the barn was better, though. If I could offer a critique, you should play on the fear of the unknown—use some nonsense words that will keep people guessing. Oh! And make it rhyme! Rhymes are notoriously off-putting in the hands of a villain. Something like, ‘Fee, fi, fo, fum! I smell the blood of my breakfast come.’” He scrunched his nose. “It could use a little work, but you get the general idea.”
Atlas spoke through gritted teeth, “I told you to go away.”
“And I did! It’s not my fault you followed me.”
“Get out.” He finally let his eyes drift over to the second intruder. He was young, like all the others exceptfor Jax had been, with a round face and wide eyes. “Both of you.”
Phoebe bit the back of his calf, apparently protesting his treatment of her new friend.
Jax pushed away from the table with a sigh, reaching for one of Ms. Fumley’s homemade rolls and tossing it lightly in the air and catching it as he spoke, “Very well. I hate to cut short such a lovely visit, Ms. Fumley, but the master of the house has spoken.”
The movement shifted his satchel just enough that Atlas caught the gleam of gold inside. He lunged forward, leaning over the table, and grabbed Jax’s arm. “What’s in the bag?”
Ms. Fumley let out a squeak of protest, but he ignored her. Jax pulled his arm away with a surprising amount of strength. He pulled out a golden egg the size of his fist and held it with much more care than he had the bread. “Are you sure you want to get involved in my business? I’ll happily stay and share all the details, but I insist on doing it over dinner. It makes things much more enjoyable that way.”
Atlas held up his hands and took a step back. “Absolutely not. Just get off my land.”
Jax gently returned the egg to his satchel and walked around the table, stopping to kiss Ms. Fumley on the cheek. “It’s been a true delight, Hilda. You are a treasure.”
His traitorous housekeeper blushed at the praise and shooed the annoying man away. “Oh, you’re too much, young man. Be careful out there.”
Jax waved and started whistling a jaunty tune as hewalked, stopping only to tip an imaginary hat to Phoebe as he passed. “My lady.”
Once he was reasonably sure that Jax was actually on his way out, Atlas turned his glare back to the boy. Before he could say anything, however, the young man darted forward with a surprising amount of speed, scooped up Phoebe, and flew from the room with the protesting goose in his arms.
Atlas yelled and took off after him, “Put down that goose!”
The thief ran down the hall, knocking over furniture and throwing whatever he could reach behind him as he ran. Atlas tripped over a coat rack, sprawling across the floor with a curse before picking himself back up and continuing the chase. His long legs gave him an advantage, but not enough to overcome the lead the boy gained when he tripped. The boy disappeared into the twilight, the sound of Phoebe’s distressed honks dying away with the distance. Atlas followed them to the Beanstalk and could just make out the top of the thief’s head as he climbed down.
He let out a frustrated growl. Trying to stop the boy now when he was so precariously positioned could endanger Phoebe, which meant there was only one thing he could do.
He was going to have to follow them down the Beanstalk.
Chapter Four
