Vixen Hunted (8 page)

"You don't know
much about money, do you?" He failed to tamp down his irritation and
stifled another yawn. "There is about a year's wages for a tradesman in
that bag. It is a good sum, especially for a shepherd. But it hardly goes
anywhere when you travel. Besides, we don't know how far we have to go. It
takes time to earn money. We are not even out of Fairhaven's farmland
yet."

Kit danced and her tail
flourished. "I can earn money easily! The Amazing Fox and the Gullible
Shepherd! The story of love between mortal enemies! I can just see the crowds
applauding our play! We would beat this Shakespeare I hear so much about."
The white tip of her tail brushed his face.

Timothy sneezed.
"Will you keep that away from me!" He rolled away from her.
"Just go to sleep."

He heard a creak of
wood taking a weight. He felt so tired, and a knot of stress balled between his
shoulders. His mind flitted to Quinn. What would Timothy have done if the
farmer turned out to be Tahd or another hunter? Defending sheep from dogs was
one thing. Fighting men was another.

Run.

He should not have
helped this girl, this fox. But he knew he could not have done anything else.

"Why didn't you
take the money and go?" Timothy asked.

"I am not a
thief!" Kit said. Something hard slapped into Timothy's back. Metal
clinked. "Do you want to get rid of me that badly? Do your promises mean
so little?"

Timothy shifted. Kit
sat on her barrel with her knees drawn up, her arms and tail hugging her legs.
She looked away.

"When I give my
word, I keep it. Do not call me an oath breaker again. Now go to sleep."
Timothy flopped back to the straw and laid an arm over his eyes.

Kit's whisper flitted
in the air. "Sorry."

Kit and Cat were gone
when Timothy awoke.

He rushed from the barn
before he was fully awake. Did she leave? Had the hunters found her?

Timothy gazed about the
fields. Abel split wood in the dawn light, a large pile of firewood stacked
behind him.

"Have you seen
Kit?"

"I did. She looked
like a thunderhead wanting to flatten my farm. What did you do, lad?"

"I didn't do
anything. She accused me of—"

Abel leaned on his axe
and chuckled. "Lad, you did something. Reds are touchy. Though they have good
enough reason to be."

"She accused me of
breaking a promise. I am no oath breaker."

Abel shifted.
"Look at it from her eyes, lad. I see that you are both in some sort of
trouble. No need to deny it. I see how you two are more skittish than Quinn
drinking with Essa watching. Think about how that trouble is for her. Be it far
from me to offer advice though. Anise is probably laughing and raging at me
right now from her rocking chair in Heaven." Abel shouldered the axe.
"If you are not an oath breaker, saying any different doesn't mean
anything. Words are just words unless you let them needle you. Best you go make
up with your lady. Speaking of her…"

Kit trudged into the
fields with a basket of clothing on her hip. Cat stalked beside her, ears
alert.

Timothy met Kit's gaze,
and she turned away.

Abel grinned.
"Yep. She is just like Anise. Best go make up after she's cooled a bit
more."

Timothy frowned at
Kit's back. "She's the one who needs to apologize."

Abel shrugged.
"Suit yourself. I tried to talk some wisdom to you."

"So you be leaving
now. Well, I can say I'd be missing you. Nice to have a hand around the old
farm." Abel clasped Timothy's hand. "You earned your keep these last
days better than my own boys."

"Thanks for the
meals and bed." Timothy pressed a pair of coins into Abel's hand.

"No be needing
this. You earned your keep, I said." Abel looked at the coins as if they
were adders.

"It is for the
clothes." Timothy pulled at the shirt Abel gave him.

"Bah. They just be
eaten by moths. It's good to see them being worn by a looking lady like my
Anise was. Keep your coins, lad. You be needing them more than me."

"It is just our
way of showing our appreciation for your help." Kit dipped her head.

"Just seeing you
brought good memories of Anise. That is payment enough. You be on a long road,
I reckon. I packed some things to take along with you." Abel shoved the
coins at Timothy and hefted a pair of knapsacks. "Anise be asking God to
smite me if I let you leave without giving you something for the road."

Timothy took the
knapsacks and handed one to Kit. "I am sure your wife is looking down on
you with a smile."

Abel chuckled. "I
doubt that, lad. But I'm looking forward to meeting her up there someday. Just
not any time soon. Too many younguns like you who cause trouble yet." Abel
ruffled Cat's head. "Off with you now. I still got a lot to do with the
cold coming."

"Cold
coming?" Kit wiped her brow.

"It be coming
soon, lass. These old bones never lie. Oh, and lass. Best keep your ears
covered."

Timothy choked. Kit's
eyes widened.

"True reds often
get cold ears." Abel winked. "My wife was a red. Thought she was the
last too."

"How did you
know?" Timothy's palms sweated.

"As I said, lad,
she moved like Anise. No mistaking that lovely sway."

"Master Abel, do
you know about my home?" Kit asked.

"I know nothing of
your home. Anise was from around here before…well you know what happened all
over. No sense in disturbing the dead." Abel looked at the sky. "But
I did hear about a place east that is safe. Anise sometimes wanted to go, but
we were too busy with the farm and the younguns. I don't know what I'd do with
all my boys if Anise didn't come along. Took them all in as her own brood, she
did." Abel laughed. "Twice widowed. Perhaps Mary will outlast my old
bones. Best get going. Light be wasting."

"East." Kit
chewed her lip.

Dust pillowed their
feet. Timothy kept his eyes open. The few travelers they passed stared at Kit's
red locks. He rubbed his still-itching eyes. He felt exposed now that they left
Abel's farm. Cat frolicked and sampled the late summer weeds.

"Timothy?"

"What? What is it?
Do you hear something?"

"I'm sorry."
Kit watched the road at her feet.

He blinked.

"I am sorry."
Her gaze flicked up and away again.

"I am too."

"You have nothing
to be sorry about. I offended you." Kit fanned her blouse.

"I took my nerves
out on you," Timothy said. A farm wife passed with a wicker basket on her
back and a small child strapped to her chest. "I shouldn't have done
that."

"Accepted. See? I
can be forgiving," she said.

They walked on in
silence. Timothy kept a little distance between them. His eyes still itched. He
sneezed.

"Why are you still
avoiding me?" Kit asked. "I don't stink."

"Honestly, it's
your tail."

Her ears pushed against
the kerchief tied over her hair, and her tail fluttered under her skirts. Kit's
mouth hung open. "You don't like my…tail?"

"I do like your
tail. Just not right now." Timothy suppressed a grin and a sneeze.

"Not. Right.
Now." Kit frowned. Her kerchief bobbed again, and she stumbled over a
stone.

"Careful! I am
starting to like it again."

"Shepherd, you are
making me upset. Do not talk around me. I said I was sorry."

Timothy held up a
finger. "I am sensitive to certain things during the summer." He
pointed at Kit. "And it seems I am currently sensitive to you."

Timothy sneezed his
point.

"Of course, it
isn't just you." He gestured. "Grass really makes me itch and sneeze
too, but I cannot avoid that."

 "You made me
worry that I—" Kit crossed her arms. "You owe me an apology.
Now."

"Apologize for
something that is only natural for me? No. You should apologize for your
tail." He rubbed an eye.

The rear of her skirt
flopped. She sniffed.

"You won this one.
You won't win the next ."

Timothy looked down the
road. He felt his mood slip. "I am not sure how mother and Aunt Mae
will—"

"That is quite all
right, husband. I am sure she will like your choice in a mate. Of course, that
doesn't mean you are not under my paws for making me apologize for
nothing."

Timothy shrugged.
"I am a condemned man who has given up on deliverance. At the least, I
will heckle my executioner."

Cat bleated at the
joke.

The sun dipped low on
the horizon when they entered a small hamlet. A wooden sign with a crude
engraving of a mug and a bed marked the small town's inn. Scents of hard work,
cheap ale, and food fought for dominance. The mix made Timothy light-headed.

"Do people ever
wash?" Kit wrinkled her nose.

"Hey! No
livestock," a barrel of a man behind the bar bellowed. "There is a
stable behind the inn." He jerked a fat thumb.

"Sorry,"
Timothy told the lamb. "Mind ordering dinner, Kit?"

Kit smiled.
"Certainly, husband!"

Timothy suppressed a
groan. No doubt dinner would be payback for earlier. He led the lamb behind the
inn. The stables were cleaner than Timothy expected. A donkey and a gelding
regarded him. Cat bounded over to the donkey's stall and happily pranced around
its legs. The donkey brayed. Timothy shook his head, gave a coin to the young
stableman, and returned to the common room.

Kit stood at the bar,
speaking with the innkeeper. Men watched her over their mugs, and Timothy felt
his shoulders knot. Could any of them be Kit's hunters? Timothy did not
recognize any of the faces. Conversations swirled around the hot common room.

Kit grabbed Timothy's
arm. "One bed will do just fine." A grin split her face. A few
farmers at the nearby tables gave Timothy a knowing look.

"Two would be more
comfortable," Timothy said.