Trish heard arguing as she approached the livery, the horse brush in one hand and Yedi's bridle in the other.
". . . this is going to be my town, mark my words."
"Over my dead body," Albert thundered back. "You'll not tell me how or where to run my business."
Trish cringed; she hated getting caught overhearing conversations, especially heated ones. She remained just outside the door, barely able to see Albert. His bearing reflected a measure of anger, his hand gripped tightly around one of the many hand tools of his blacksmith trade.
The man stormed past her without a nod of courtesy, his face red under his scowl. She flinched, sensing the animosity emanating from him.
She watched him storm away, climb on his buckboard and, using the whip, drive away. She paused before entering the livery.
"Albert, what was that all about?" she asked contritely.
"Nothing for you to worry about." Albert quickly regained his calm composure. "Guess I need Quinn standing close by, getting all hostile if I want to handle Milton with a bit more composure. I'm sorry you had to hear any of that."
"Milton is --" Trish's curiosity heightened, her legal mind on alert.
Albert had resumed his task, muttering. "Hum?"
"Milton, is he always so angry?"
"Milton is a harmless man. Likes things his way and when he doesn't get it-- he frets. He tries to throw his weight around and he yells. But he's harmless. Misguided, but harmless."
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 23
