Marcus stiffened, awaiting her answer. Would she tell this Peter the truth and have him thrown in the stocks? He tensed, preparing to run.
“We’re traveling separately right now. They are working different jobs,” Sage lied.
A confused scowl crossed Marcus’s brow before he relaxed it. She hadn’t given him away. Why wouldn’t she tell Peter the truth?
“Tell them to stop and say hello when they have time,” Peter muttered. He scratched his head. “It’s been so long.”
“I will,” Sage responded.
Peter jerked a finger toward Marcus. “Are you traveling with this man?”
Sage nodded. “I am.”
“You should tell him to get some coin before he asks a man to do labor. But for you, I will gladly shoe the horse.”
Sage grinned slyly, glancing at Marcus in understanding. “We’re working on a job now. I’ll come back and pay you when we are finished.”
Humiliation burned through Marcus. Yes. He had no coin to fend for himself. He clenched his jaw. Now, she knew. It didn’t matter that she knew. Still, he looked away in embarrassment.
“Nah,” Peter said, waving a hand. “It’s on the house.” He swept his hand out across the horseshoes nailed to the wall around the room. “I have plenty. A good blacksmith always does.”
Sage smiled. “And Father always said you were the best.”
Peter beamed with pride. “He should say that if he knows what’s good for him.”
Marcus had not been wise to forget Sage and her family were well known. He should have realized she would know people in the towns they visited. At least he would have no qualms leaving her here. She would be well taken care of. She would be safe. “How long will it take?”
Peter glared at him with a cold stare.
“We are grateful,” Marcus explained quickly. He got the impression that Peter didn’t like him.
“We’re in a hurry,” Sage added.
The man seemed to be fond of her, which bothered Marcus more than he was willing to admit.
“Perhaps an hour,” Peter replied. “It shouldn’t take long.”
Sage nodded. “We’ll be back. Thank you.” She moved to Marcus’s side, an amused grin on her lips.
Marcus looked away. He bent to pick up the saddlebags near the doorway and led the way out of the smithy. He perused the dirt road. Houses made of wattle and daub lined the street. A farmer led a horse pulling a wagon two houses down from them.
“Are you going to leave me now?” Sage asked.
Marcus glanced at her. “Yes.”
“You should at least thank me for getting Peter to shoe your horse,” Sage grumbled.
Yes. For that, Marcus was grateful. “Thank you.”
Sage grunted in disbelief. “At least you have manners.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t turn you in,” Sage said. “I could have told him the truth. How you kidnapped me. How you killed Brother Nicolas.”
Marcus gritted his teeth. “I said thank you.”
“And while we’re at it…”
