She arrived at Pine Lodge with only half an hour to spare. She'd ridden Ziggy a little harder than she'd intended, especially around the site of the ambush which she'd given a wide enough berth to. When she approached the cottage, the horse was sweating hard and she took him into the stables where Lou, one of the hired hands, was already up and cleaning out the stalls.
“You're back!” she cried when she saw her. “You're later than we expected.”
“I was delayed,” she replied, climbing down and patting the beast. “Give him some love, Lou - he's earned it. Is Fozzy ready to go?”
“He's all yours. David has already set off. He told me to tell you to catch him up on the road.”
Tired and weary but eager to see the stranger again, Sarah transferred her bags to the other Bay and rode him cautiously out onto the path in pursuit of her father. Unlike Ziggy, Fozzy tended to exercise his will over any rider and it was always in the back of her mind that one day he'd throw her when she least expected it. For this reason she took it easy all the way to the outskirts of Hooper's Farm, taking the flat paths as often as she could and generally placating the wild animal as best she could.
When she was within a half-mile of the field where the market was being held, she saw the other folk of Pine Lodge making their way up the road. Some were riding, others were simply walking along. It was cold that morning but the sky was clear and the air was crisp and a brisk journey through the country wouldn't do many people harm. In fact, they all seemed pleased to be out and, she suspected, curious about the rumours that no doubt would have been circulating all day about the stranger.
“Good morning Mrs. Cartwright,” she called as she trotted past a family making their way along.
“Mornin' Sarah, my dear!” she replied, waving. “Is that the mail from Abbingdon?”
“It is.” She reached into the bag at her side and rummaged around for the bundle of letters from the other half of the Cartwright family living in the settlement. Then she handed them over with a smile.
“You're a dear, thank-you,” said Mrs. Cartwright, looking at the almost illegible scrawl her brother often wrote his letters in. “How's things up there.”
“Same as always,” she said. “Nothing new I'm afraid.”
“I thought there'd be some gossip!”
“Sorry, I heard nothing. I'll see you later.”
Sarah rode on, handing out bundles to those she saw until she came upon the site of the labour market. A crude stage had been erected in front of the western side of the main house where Hooper and his family lived and a large crowd was already gathered before it. They were talking amongst themselves and pointing to the rusting husks of old-world vehicles that had been converted into carts and were now pulled by horses instead of technology. There were four of them in a line, all closed and all containing the criminals who were due to be sold on the stage within the hour.
“Sarah!” called a voice behind her and she spun round in the saddle, seeing her father riding towards her.
“Papa,” she said. “I'm sorry; I was late and I thought it would be better to stay over until this morning.”
“I understand. You got my message from Lou?” She nodded. “There's a rumour something is going to happen,” he explained. “Something involving a stranger from one of the southern settlements.”
Sarah smiled and looked about her. “Is he here?”
“I've not seen anyone matching his description yet. Have you met him already?”
“Only in passing. He was at the pub when I collected the mail from Sandy.”
Her father rode his favorite horse that, like his rider, was beginning to feel the years in his hair and in his joints. Both of them appeared to be tired, weary perhaps and yet still carrying a warm spark of life that all the pain and misery of this world seemed incapable of extinguishing. Her Papa was wrapped up in his thick riding jacket and his silver hair hung loose at his shoulders, catching the morning light as the wind moved lazily through it.
Sarah looked around but could see nothing of the man, his hound or the stallion he was riding. Over by the caravans of criminals only the traders could be seen and they were looking about themselves with an air of worry. They were strange people, all dressed in stained red clothing from their jackets to their trousers and they had scars on their faces that looked far too well placed to be accidental.
“They look nervous,” she said.
“Word's got around; they've heard of him before.”
“What does he want?”
“Sidney and Hooper think that maybe a friend or a family member is in one of those carts and he plans to either buy them back or spring them. Who knows? It'll be exciting to watch.”
“Or dangerous,” she replied.
“True. We have a good view from the back here,” he laughed. “Besides, there's twelve of them and only one of him.”
“You didn't see his dog,” she said. Her Papa looked at her and frowned. “What is it?”
“A hound? What kind of hound?”
“It was huge, Papa,” she explained. “It looked more like a wolf.” He looked away from her then, over towards the caravans and shook his head. “What is it?” she asked again. Her father seemed to pale a little, like he'd seen a ghost in the crowd.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Just a-”
“Have you heard of him before?”
“I don't think so,” he said. “It's just something I remembered from a long time ago. Something-”
The crowd suddenly went quiet just as the last of the people of Pine Lodge arrived and the time came for the trading to begin. Hooper himself appeared, climbing the steps onto the stage and taking up his usual position in front of the crowd. His heavy frame struggled even to do that and his trousers looked ready to burst at the seams.
“Good morning!” he called. There was a murmur of responses, all friendly, all polite. “Well once again we have a few more folks wanting to offer their services to us in the hopes of paying off their debts to society and all that... stuff.”
There was a gasp behind them but when Sarah turned in her saddle she couldn't make out what was happening. When she returned to watching Hooper, the traders had already begun opening the backs of the carts and shepherding the unhappy looking criminals up onto the platform. As they were forced onto the stage, the air was cut in half by the shocked silence of those who could see clearly what was wrong.
“Oh my god!” said her Papa.
Sarah looked and saw them arranging themselves in lines before the crowd just as the commotion from the back settled down. There, dressed in nothing more than dirty rags, were men, women and even children, all looking lost and forlorn, all staring down at their naked feet like their souls had been taken and only the husks remained.
“What is this?” she whispered to herself.
“Slaves!” cried someone. “They're not criminals - they're-”
Hooper, looking alarmed now, tried to move things along by setting the price of the first person, a boy of perhaps eight or nine years whose right eye was black and blue and partly shut from swelling. He was sobbing where he stood and was barely able to stand on his bruised feet.
“What will you give me for... this boy... eh?” he mumbled but the crowd was already gathering in volume, drowning out his feeble words.
The people began to part around her as Sarah struggled to take her eyes off the child. Before she knew it she could hear the thudding of heavy hooves on the ground and the loud snorts of the Shire horse as it made its way towards the platform, passing within inches of her.
“I'll buy them all!” cried a voice that cut through all the angry, violent talk, enforcing a sacred silence on the entire assembly. Sarah saw him draw the enormous animal to a halt in front of Hooper and she could even make out the shape of Moll at its feet, causing the people to back away even further.
“It can't be,” whispered her Papa next to her.
“What can't be?” she asked.
The strang
er climbed down from the horse and leapt up onto the platform, striding towards the traders who had drawn back to their carts. He had a large sack in one hand and his Russian weapon in the other while the dog followed at his heels.
“I'll buy each and every last one of them,” he said again, stopping just short of their leader.
“I don't know who you are but there's no way you can-”
The stranger hurled the sack down at the trader's feet and it fell open, sending pieces of gold and silver and all kinds of precious stones in all directions. The crowd gasped and the other traders dropped to their knees to pick them up.
“Well if they mean that much to you,” said the man, barely taking his eyes off the prize. “Enjoy!”
When the treasure was gathered back into the bag, the group began to leave but the stranger called after them. Sarah felt like she'd slipped into some fantastical tale, like something unreal was unfolding before her eyes. She was rooted to the spot and even the animals seemed to feel the weight of the event and held their peace.
“What is it?” asked the trader.
“Go back to your boss and tell him I'll be coming for him one day. You understand?”
The trader grinned. There didn't seem to be a shred of fear anywhere on the grizzled man's features.
“Whenever you're ready,” he replied. “We'll be waiting.”
Turning, he signaled to the others and one by one the caravan moved out, heading away from Hooper's house back towards the road.
The silence lasted a few minutes more as they all watched the horses and their antique trappings disappear around the corner, out of sight. Then, as if the spell had been broken, the silence was shattered by a hundred voices all talking at once.
Sarah turned to her father as if suddenly released from a trance and saw how pale he'd become.
“Papa - are you okay?” she asked.
“I've seen him before!” he whispered, unable to turn his head from staring at him. “I'm sure of it.”
“Where?” she asked.
“It's not possible though.”
“Papa - you're not making any sense.”
“Him and the dog...”
Sarah looked and saw that the stranger was scanning the lines of weeping faces, all now realising they were free and all trying desperately to touch him and offer their thanks. Where he could he returned the warmth, but to Sarah it was clear that he was looking for someone else, someone who should have been there and who apparently wasn't.
“Tyler?” he called. “Tyler?”
Sarah watched with her heart in her mouth. This is what it'd been about, she realised. He'd been looking for someone. But where was he?
Suddenly the people moved and there was the boy, about twelve years old, and when he was freed from his chains, he threw his arms around the stranger and began crying into his coat. His son? She wondered.
“We should help,” she found herself saying and with that she urged Fozzy forward towards the platform. When she got there she could see that the man was patting the boy and hugging him, telling him that it would be okay now, that he was safe.
“It's you!” called her Papa, startling her. She thought he'd stayed further back but there he was behind her, staring at the stranger who turned to see who was speaking. Moll turned also and when she saw who it was she came running over, rising up on both hind legs to reach him on his mount. Licking his face, her father laughed and stroked the animal, leaving her speechless.
“Papa?” she cried. “What's going on?”
“It's impossible!” he said. “It can't be you but it is, there's no mistaking it!”
“Who?”
The stranger released the boy and came closer the edge of the platform.
“It's been a long time, hasn't it, David?” he said.
“Too long, Alan. Far too long. And yet-”
The stranger raised his hand and shook his head, looking at the crowds.
“Not here,” he whispered as best he could. “These people need homes, they need care and attention. Then I'll explain it all. If you'll believe me that is.”
“I have to,” said her Papa. “You're here, aren't you? Bloody hell, Alan. I thought you were dead.”
“Likewise,” he replied, grinning. “You've aged badly, you know that? I warned you not to-”
“Eat bacon? Like I could ever stop! Come here you old bastard!”
Her Papa leapt down from his mount and threw his arms around the man and laughed.
Sandy had been late arriving at the farm, delayed by one of his youngest who'd refused to dress for the occasion but he'd made it just in time to see the stranger reveal himself. After the commotion had died down, he'd made his way to the front of the crowds and met with Hooper who'd joined them all near the waiting slaves.
“Well what do you know?” he said, addressing the stranger. “You were right after all.”
“I guess sometimes we just need to see these things for ourselves,” he replied. Sarah had climbed down from Fozzy and tethered him to the stage along with her father's mount.
“Where are they from?”
“All over, but mostly from the midland settlements. I was asked to find Tyler after he went missing in the summer and I managed to track this particular band of Slavers all the way here. Did you recognise any of them? Are they the same ones from before?”
“No,” said Hooper. “These we've never met before. We should stop them, arrest them or something.”
“Unless you want an army at your door, I'd let them go,” said the stranger. “If they don't return then people will come looking for them - very bad people.”
“We can't just let them get away with it!” cried Sandy.
“No, I agree,” said the stranger. “But all in good time. For now I need to know if Pine Lodge can take these people in, home them and feed them until we can send word to their families.”
“Of course!” said Sandy. “I'll see to it immediately.”
“Thank you,” said the stranger. “I know there'll be a lot of people grateful for this, I assure you.”
“It's the least we can do,” said Hooper, shaking his head. “How many more might have been sold on this very platform without us realising it?”
“It doesn't matter now. Today we've saved these people, that's all that-”
“No sir,” said Hooper. “You saved them. Where on earth did you find such treasures?”
“They're around,” he said, smiling. “If you know where to look. This particular clan of scum have an eye for gold. Their leader likes to melt it down and turn it into idols of himself.”
“You know them then?”
“I know their reputation.”
“Well,” said Sandy, clapping his hands together. “We'd best get to work, eh?”
The freed people were now dispersing and Sandy walked amongst the larger families, making his pleas to them for help. A crowd had begun to gather around the stranger and it was evident to Sarah that he was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. It didn't go unnoticed by her father either.
“Perhaps you'd care to have lunch with us at my cottage,” he said to him. “We'd be more than happy to have you and your charge under our roof.”
The stranger smiled and thanked him, looking around for Tyler before helping him up onto his own horse. Hooper offered him his hand with a hot, flushed expression on his face. The man took it and nodded.
“Come to the pub later and let me buy you a jug of ale, sir,” said Hooper.
Smiling, he nodded, climbed up onto the mighty horse and followed Sarah as she began to lead the way off the field, still stunned by what had just happened and yet, a little excited too. As the man had grabbed hold of the pommel, she'd seen the spines of several books just visible through the top of his saddlebags.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I knew back then that there was something about you,” said her Papa, handing the man sat at the kitchen table a mug of freshly brewed coffee. “Something the others whispered abou
t, but I never knew, never heard about it before you left that day.”
“It's a very long story,” he replied. “One that won't make much sense.”
Sarah felt alert since the market, so alert in fact that she remembered the mail sack just in time to hand out the rest of it before riding off from the people of Pine Lodge. The few she'd missed she believed she could catch up with later, including Gail's father, once the story of the stranger was told.
“But it is you, isn't it? You are the same Alan Harding? It's not a trick?”
“No David, it isn't. And that heap of fur in front of your fire is the same Moll you knew back when you were a boy.”
“A boy?” said Sarah. “But you're no older than I am? How is that possible?”
“The short version is that I don't really know. Before the disaster I was given a medicine, one that had some strange effects. Until today only a few people knew about it. I never expected to see you again, especially after what happened in Liverpool. I'll confess, David - I really thought that you and your father had died down there when the ship sank.”
“It was a terrible time,” he said. “We barely escaped with our scalps, but we did and we fled east once we believed it was safe. Settlers from Abbingdon were just striking out to occupy Pine Lodge so we tagged along. The rest is pretty straightforward after that.”
“I'm glad to hear it, I really am.”
“But what happened to you? Where did you go?”
“It's a story I'm not sure you'd like to hear. You may remember that the South was still largely irradiated, that there were pockets that people couldn't travel through without being exposed. It turned out that it wasn't as bad as people first thought. Remember Zak?” Her father broke out laughing.
“Of course I do - little Zak Fiddlestick we called him. Don't tell me he made it!” Alan nodded.
“I'm sorry to say he didn't make it much further than thirty but he had a wife and two little girls when he died. I don't know what killed him; none of us did back then. He remembered you though, right to the end. He had a name for you, David...”
“Dumbo David - that was it! He thought I was thick and that my ears were too big.”
Beyond Hope (Tales from the Brink Book 3) Page 4
