Carrying a bag stuffed with as many of his personal effects as he could cram in there, Beckett went out the back and through the stable yard, heading for the lane that would take him to town and the stagecoach.
As he crossed the yard, Narin, a wiry stable lad about Beckett’s age but half his size, hollered his name. Narin stood with one of Jack’s horses snuggled up behind him. The nag’s big head hung over Narin’s shoulder, and he nudged and lipped at Narin’s jacket in search of a treat.
Narin scolded the large animal fondly and pushed his face away.
“All right?” Beckett said by way of greeting as he joined them.
“Morning. Marl said as you’ll be needing a horse for your travels. You know Tib?” He hitched a thumb at the horse behind him.
“No.”
“Ah, well. He’s a nice-mannered pony, is our Tib. You’ll get on great. He’s a good, steady little boy.” He laughed and pushed Tib’s face away when he shoved at Narin’s side again. “You’ll give Beckett a nice smooth ride all the way to Sevennis, won’t you, poppet?”
Beckett eyed Tib up. Pony? Little boy?
He was the biggest damn horse in the stable, a pretty dark dappled grey with a white mane and tail. He was finely made, and quite the fancy mount for a footman. “He one of the duke’s?”
“Yeah. Used to be His Grace’s primary back in his heyday. Didn’t ya, Tib? He’s getting up in years now, though, so His Grace only rides him when he’s here. Tib knows the way to Sevennis by heart, he does. Must have gone nigh on a thousand times.” Narin gave a boisterous laugh. “Eh, maybe not a thousand. Wouldn’t have no feet left. Could do it in his sleep, though. Couldn’t you, hey?” He clapped Tib heartily on the shoulder, and moved to check the girth, giving it a tug and tightening it a notch. “Marl said to get him ready for you.” He cocked a brow at Beckett. “If you’ve got a preference, though, won’t take but a minute to set you up with one of the others.”
“He’s fine.” Beckett reached out and rubbed Tib’s nose gently.
The big horse flared his nostrils, snuffling at him. He gave a contented little whinny.
“He’s a slut for alphas, is our Tib,” Narin said. ”He’ll do anything you like, snap right to it.”
Good. Beckett was a competent enough horseman when the occasion called for it, but Tib was at least half a foot taller than any other of the horses he’d ridden before, and Beckett wasn’tgoing to flatter himself that he could handle an animal that size if he came with a temperament to match.
Beckett wrapped a hand around Tib’s whiskery jaw, drew his head down and held him steady as he looked sternly into the large dark eyes. He smiled when the big horse gave another soft whinny and all but batted his white lashes.
“Take good care of him,” Narin said, coming around to stand beside Beckett. “He’s my lad. Aren’t you, Tib?”
“I’ll look after him.”
“You do that, and he’ll look after you. He’s a proper gentleman. Stay there, I’ll be back in tick.” Narin darted off to the stable block.
While he waited, Beckett tied his knapsack behind the saddle. He hopped up and was adjusting the stirrup leathers when Narin returned.
Narin held out a handful of wrinkled old apples. “He likes his treats.”
“Give them here, then.” Beckett shoved the apples into his pockets.
“Don’t forget to tell him he’s a good boy before you tuck him in for the night.”
“You want me to sing him a lullaby while I’m at it?”
“Aw,” Narin said. “Would you?”
“No.” Beckett gathered the reins and Tib strode off eagerly.
“Have a good trip!” Narin called after them.
Beckett raised a hand in farewell.
“Say hello to His Grace for us!”
Beckett didn’t turn to reply, but he still had his hand raised. He folded down all of his fingers but one in an eloquent enough gesture.
Narin’s laughter followed him down the drive.
