Gideon stood lost in thought after the two grooms left. Marshall studied him closely. “Not alone, you’re not,” Marshall said at last, guessing his intentions. “That little wife of yours would have a fit.”
Gideon grinned ruefully. “I wasn’t going alone. I thought I’d take Hector.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gideon rode backto Nether Abbas in the gloaming with Hector loping along at his side. He found Carter’s smithy dark, cold, and empty. Cursing fate, he tied Hannibal in front of the one place he had been determined to avoid at all costs, the Cockcrow tavern, determined to confront Bill Carter in spite of the ache in his back caused by leaping off Hannibal earlier.
Lights shone from the window, and the jovial sounds of the evening regulars filled the air. He inhaled a deep breath and took a step over the threshold he’d been tossed over when he was sixteen. Hector followed him in, dropping to his side when the voices stopped, and all eyes turned to Gideon and his great beast.
He planted both feet apart, stood tall, and let the silence linger for several moments. “I am, as you see, the troll of Woodglen. Mute and stammering.” He scanned the silent crowd. “That is how you describe me when you’re in your cups, is it not?”
No one responded. The men continued to stare. He recognized some—Hinson the grocer, Gratis, his old nemesis Adcock, and Rogers, the same man that had thrown him out twenty years before, a bit grayer but every bit as nasty-looking. There was no sign of either Bill Carter or Jem Hawkins.
“Where can I find Jem Hawkins, the lying snake?” he demanded.
No answer.
“Hawkins has been stealing from Woodglen for years. It wasn’t even difficult to detect. He ran when we uncovered it, but I hear he hung around blaming others. Where is he?” Gideon said, using a voice that had cut through brawling miners more than once.
No answer.
He tried again. “The assizes may take up the matter of those who aided his crimes by hiding him.”
His words had no effect. He turned to leave.
“Where’s Lizzy Carter, then, if yer looking for folk?” Gideon recognized the speaker as Vincent Collins, the tenant Bert had warned him about.
“Where is the father that drove her off?” Gideon retorted. The more he saw of Bill Carter, the surer he was of that.
That remark drew a few sympathetic nods. Only a few. The Cockcrow was a sewer of small-minded speculation and poison. He turned to leave and called Hector to follow. A pewter mug hit the back of Gideon’s head, Hector growled, and Gideon braced for further attack. It didn’t come.
He turned and peered at them, face-to-face, one after another. The coward who hid in the crowd and took his courage from drink could have been any of them. “Tell Jem Hawkins to quit hiding like a frightened rabbit and come confront me at Woodglen.”
He mounted and rode out of the village under a darkening sky. It occurred to him that the two he sought may not have gone far from the point of attack. Instead of following the road, he turned Hannibal onto the fields that lay in stubble after harvest, moving in the direction of Woodglen’s dairy. Mrs. Millbrook seemed the type to lock the place up good and tight, but he recalled a storage shed behind the place, one with shrubs for cover. It wasn’t far across the field from the hedges and convenient to the village as well.
Before he could approach closely, a shadow—a huge, lumbering figure—emerged from the sheltering bushes. Clearly Gideon on his massive horse had been outlined against the sky, his approach obvious and perhaps expected.
“What are you looking for out here in the dark, Kendrick?” Bill Carter boomed.
“Hiding from your crimes, Carter?” Gideon asked, reining in his horse. Hector inched forward, a growl deep in his throat. “Stay!” Gideon ordered.
“I ain’t done nothing,” Carter said. “Searching for my Lizzy.” He walked toward Gideon, ignoring Hector, who inched forward on his haunches.
“You set Duger on my family,” Gideon said, his words as cold as his heart facing the man who’d tried to harm Daniel. “We’re calling in Clavering tomorrow to sit as magistrate and question Duger. I have no doubt he’ll hand your minion over to the assizes for trial and you with him. If you have a defense, I suggest you be there.”
Gideon had come out with no assistance, not even rope to tie the man. He didn’t mean to drag him in, merely to confront him. He’d been too angry to consider it might force Carter to run. Belatedly he realized how badly he’d miscalculated.
“I have a defense all right,” Carter snarled. He grabbed Gideon by the arm and yanked him from the horse. Hannibal sidled. Hector came round and attacked. Gideon’s arm snapped, blinding him with pain.
Hector barked and snapped, launching himself at Carter. Carter held on to Gideon’s broken arm. Gideon, half fainting from pain, shook it off and clamped his free hand on Carter’s throat. Still Carter hung on.
“Help me, damn it!” Carter shouted. A shot rang out, and Hector fell to the ground.
“Hold him,” said a second voice. Jem Hawkins emerged from the shrubbery, tossing his gun aside and taking out a vicious-looking knife. “We’ll cut him and dump his body in the ash heap behind your smithy until we can deal with it,” he said, waving the weapon.
Gideon struggled for consciousness as Carter yanked him by the arm.
“I dunno, Jem. Selling the boy to a press gang is different from murder. Can’t we do the same with Kendrick?”
