Vixen Hunted (3 page)

Chapter
2

"See?"
Timothy asked. "I said we would make it tonight."

Kit yawned into her
hand. "More like tomorrow morning."

Fairhaven thrust out of
the farmlands. Brown vines hugged the familiar stone wall, scruffy grass
assailed the ramparts, and dawn warred with the moon. Timothy forced his feet
to move. Kit trudged beside him, her shoulders slumped, but she insisted on
making it to the town regardless of the time of night.

"It's not my fault
you were run up two more trees. Dogs really must like you, and you are the one
who didn't want to stop." Timothy shifted his crook to his other hand.
"Still, hounds are better than your men finding us."

"Baa!" The
lamb staggered from exhaustion.

Kit yawned large enough
to crack her jaw. "I'm hungry." She gave him a sidelong glance.
"You owe me supper. Well, breakfast now. Those rocks you made me eat do
not count."

Fairhaven's gate
loomed. Near the weathered doors that barred the dirt road, a militiaman
lounged, eyes closed, his wide-brimmed helmet gleaming pink in the infant
light. His halberd rested against the wall. Beneath the helmet was Kyle's
familiar bearded face.

The lamb perked,
tottered ahead, and rammed into the militiaman's shin. "Baa. Baa."

The militiaman snorted
and reached for his halberd. His brow creased at the sight of the lamb bleating
and looking at the gate.

"Sleeping on duty
again, Kyle?" Timothy waved.

"Timothy!"
Kyle returned his halberd to the wall. "I wasn't expecting you for another
few weeks. Is this noisy girl yours? Wait, where are your other sheep?"

Timothy's smile
twisted. "Trouble found me." He glanced at Kit. "Bandits stole
my sheep."

Kyle shook his head.
"Sorry to hear that, my boy. Sheep are expensive these days. I guess you
could go back to work for Old Man Malory. His writing boy didn't work
out."

He squinted against the rising sun. "You
are welcome to stay at my place until you get back on your feet. Henrietta
might bake me something with you around." He smiled at Kit. "And who
is this lovely lady?"

Kit swiped a red lock
from her face and smiled. "I'm Kit, Timmy's wife. It is a pleasure to meet
you!"

Timothy choked.
"Wife?"

"Hush." She
buried an elbow into his ribs.

"Wife?" Kyle
whistled between his teeth. "You have a wife? Since when? Where did you
find such a pretty lass?"

Kit twirled a red lock.
"I found him, Master Kyle."

Kyle shook his head.
"You know what this does to me? Now I will have to give into Henrietta's
pestering. Women are always in a hurry."

"You don't know
the half of it." Timothy stared at Kit. She shot back an innocent look.

Kyle stroked his beard.
"Well, maybe if you could ring one, it is about time I do too."

Kit elbowed Timothy in
the ribs again. She flicked her gaze to the gate. Her foot tapped the packed
dirt road. Timothy took the hint. "Mind letting us in, Kyle?"

Kyle grinned. "She
is like Henrietta, always in a hurry, eh? You should know, Timothy. Things are
a little touchy in town. Some high lord or something is visiting. It has
everyone on edge. Best to keep quiet until he leaves."

"You were always
the one landing us in trouble, Kyle," Timothy said.

Kit fluttered her
eyelashes. "I can't promise not to be too loud. Especially at night."

Timothy groaned.

Kyle burst out
laughing. "You caught more trouble than I can cause." He rapped his
knuckles on the door in a pattern. The heavy gate groaned open.

"Just stay out of
trouble and try not to wake the town tonight, eh? We need to catch up sometime.
Wait till Henrietta hears about you and your lady!"

Timothy ran a hand
through his hair, and Kit snagged his arm. "I can't promise that, Master
Kyle. But I will try to be a little quieter than I usually am."

Kyle's laughter drowned
out the sounds of the gate. The lamb charged ahead, and Kit shoved Timothy
through.

Fairhaven woke well
before dawn, and scores of people bustled about their early morning business.
Several yawning errand boys lugged burlap sacks on their shoulders. The faint
scent of baking bread reminded Timothy that all he had to eat was hard travel
bread. Several familiar-looking people nodded at Timothy. Unlike Kyle, Timothy
struggled to keep names and faces straight.

Kit pulled him into a
tight alley where the scent of bread was stronger. Kit doubled over laughing.
"I like you, shepherd. You are so much fun!" She stabbed a finger
into his chest. "Don't get any ideas. All shepherds are perverts under
that innocent exterior!"

"I'm not…uh…I…"
Timothy took a deep breath. "I only promised as far as Fairhaven. Well, we
are in Fairhaven."

Kit turned her back.
Her hood rustled. "I am hungry. Let's go there!" She pointed to an
inn across from the alley.

"I kept my
promise. I have things to do, you know."

Kit pouted. "I
guess you are right. You did keep your promise. Thank you." Her stomach
grumbled audibly. She pressed her hands to it and regarded him from beneath her
bangs.

"I don't have any
money. I guess I will be okay. I am sure I can earn money for food…somehow. As
long as those men don't find me, I should be okay. Maybe. Go on. I am sure you
need to talk to someone about your stolen sheep." She turned away.
"So hungry."

"Baa!" The
lamb glared at Timothy.

Timothy rubbed his
forehead. He was a fool. "All right. Fine. I could use some breakfast
too."

Kit shot him a
triumphant smile. "I am quite a good performer, aren't I?"

Timothy shook his head.
A helpless grin stole across his lips.

The inn's common room
held several people breaking their night fasts. Timothy selected a table in the
far corner and rested his crook against the nearby wall. The lamb clambered
onto the bench. Timothy had forgotten about her! He hoped the innkeeper did not
mind.

Kit glared at Timothy
with her hands on her hips. "Not going to offer a chair for your adoring,
dangerously hungry wife, husband?"

Several men laughed and
shook their heads.

"Just sit
down." Timothy felt a headache coming on. He yawned. He wanted sleep more
than he wanted food. His stomach disagreed.

"I will disregard
your negligence this once!" Kit swept the men watching her with a smile
before settling beside Timothy on the bench.

A young girl in a
gleaming white apron scurried over. "What can I get you, sir?" The
girl blinked at the lamb.

"Cider and your
house's stew. Oh, and whatever greens you have available." Timothy nodded
at the lamb.

"Baa!"

"Stew for
breakfast?" Kit wrinkled her nose. "Make that oatmeal with fruit for
us both. And cider. Hurry now."

The server glanced at
the lamb. "Right…away, ma'am." She mumbled something and scurried to
the kitchens.

Kit kicked Timothy
under the table. "Watch your eyes."

Timothy grunted.
"They were not anywhere. We are not married, remember? Do you know how
much that will cost me? Stew from yesterday is cheaper."

"And that is the
problem. I want my husband to look and know he has a wife without equal,"
Kit said. "I won't eat yesterday's stew to break my fast."

A whiskered man across
the room laughed. "You have a lovely handful there, fella. Odd choice of
pet too." The other men saluted with their mugs.

Kit nodded at the man.
"He needs reminding of that regularly!"

Timothy lowered his
voice. "What did you mean to do here anyway? Won't the men chasing you
think to look here? This is the only town nearby."

"Right now, I am
keeping myself from eating your arm. That girl better hurry up!" Kit
grabbed his arm. "It is nice of you to show concern for me, husband."

"Stop calling me
that." He pulled away.

"If you say so,
dearest."

The serving girl
reappeared, hesitating when she placed a bowl of greens in front of the lamb.
She frowned and shook her head before scurrying off. Timothy sighed. He had a
strange lamb that attacked dogs and an even stranger girl. He took a long pull
of his cider. The lamb munched at the bowl of greens, her front hooves braced
against the table. Timothy kept an eye on the door. "What do you want from
me?"

A bead of sweat escaped
her hairline. She wrinkled her nose. "I hoped the smell of fruit would
help. People around here need to take baths. Especially you, Timmy. How can you
stand it?" She paused to spoon her oatmeal.

The common room did not
smell that bad to Timothy. He shrugged and stabbed his spoon into his bowl. At
least the oatmeal tasted good, even if he had to listen to her tongue. The inn
was generous with the raspberries.

"Well?"

Kit met his eyes.
"Just a moment ago you were going to leave me." Her mood changed. Her
eyes no longer held mischief, and a few lines crinkled around them. He noticed
the gray bags, the exhaustion. She had more trouble than he could deal with,
but he had to offer what help he could. It was only right, and Aunt Mae
wouldn't expect anything else.

"I still might. I
probably should." Timothy watched the face under the cloak's cowl. He
ignored a rivulet of sweat that ran down his chest. Fairhaven boiled compared
to the fields. She opened her mouth, just to close it. She chewed on her lower
lip and stirred her oatmeal. Her gaze flicked to him and back to the bowl.

One of the men in the
common room stood and stretched. "Time to get to the fields." He
nodded at Timothy. "Best of luck to ya, fella, with that one!"

Timothy nodded and
gestured with his mug. Most of the common room left with the man.

"Baa!" The
lamb looked at Timothy's mug.

"Thirsty?" He
poured the last of his cider into the lamb's dish and dropped his wooden spoon
into his own empty bowl. Kit scraped at hers but did not look up.

"If I am to help,
I have to know."

"Know?" Kit
stared at her spoon.

"About you and
whatever trouble you have. All of it."

Timothy didn't have a
clue what he could do about it. Hide her? He snorted. What was he thinking? He
wasn't a hero, but he still had to offer. Curse his conscience! If only Aunt
Mae knew how much trouble her moral lessons caused him.

Kit said nothing.

Timothy scrubbed his
hair. "Okay, I will ask one more time. Do you want my help?"

Her hooded head shook.

Fine. It was better for
him at least.

"Ready to
go?" Timothy asked the lamb. The lamb's ears flattened.

He looked down at the
girl. "I wish you the best in whatever you do. May God be with you."

The lamb followed
Timothy outside. He did what he had promised. He had given Kit a chance too. So
why did he feel like he had done something wrong?

The streets broiled,
even though it was still morning. Timothy stroked the lamb's ears. Now what was
he going to do? He didn't have enough money to start over. He doubted the
magistrate could do anything about his stolen sheep. Those men were too well
clothed to be footpads. Old man Malory might be the only option. Timothy did
not look forward to being in the same room with that sour old scholar. He
looked at the sky. Kyle would be off duty now.

Timothy's boots clicked
the cobblestones in time with the lamb's hooves. His mind drifted to Kit. No.
She would be fine. Kyle and Malory. That was where his mind needed to be
focused.

The streets had filled
up considerably since they'd first entered the inn. The clang of smithies set a
rhythm to the babble. Timothy's feet dragged. After walking all of yesterday
and last night, a full stomach demanded sleep. His eyelids drooped.

A hand grabbed his
shoulder.

Timothy yelled and
staggered back. A passing errand boy dropped his burlap sack, and flour clouded
the air. The boy gave Timothy a dark look.

Kit fisted her hips.
"You would think I am a demon or something with a reaction like
that."

Timothy's heart
pounded. He was certainly awake now.

Kit glanced away. She
squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I decided I do need
your help. I will risk telling you." She took a deep breath. "Everything.
Just not here. We need someplace private."

"I can't afford an
inn room. You can't trick me into that."

Kit frowned. "I am
being serious, and you make a bad joke."

"Just tell me
here. People are not paying us any attention." Timothy returned a wave from…Steven.
No, John. John the barber.

"I can't. Not
here." Kit snagged his sleeve. "We need to get away from here before
I am seen. You see, I—"