“Just so you can’t say I never opened up to you, Megan. About those complications of mine...” He uneasily cleared his throat. “Well, how does murder and robbery sound to you? I’m wanted back home for both, if it matters to you anymore.”
He glanced up at Leo and shrugged, indicating that that was the best he could do. Leo, however, sat arrow straight and wide-eyed, wondering exactly who he had been giving a ride to these last few hours.
“So, Nicholas, uh, that’s what you came up with to say?” Leo said guardedly.
“Yep,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And it’s all true, by the way.” Leo flinched. “The accusations,” Nicholas quickly added. “Not the deeds.”
Leo swallowed. “Oh... Good to hear.”
Nicholas grinned, then returned his gaze to Megan and immediately went slack-jawed. The cry of a blue jay peppered the air as she slowly walked back toward him.
“I don’t make it a habit to associate with murderers and thieves,” she softly said as she faced Nicholas.
“Me either,” Leo added.
“Luckily for both of you I’m neither of those things. But there are a lot of people back home convinced otherwise. So you can see why I wasn’t eager to let people in on my little secret.”
“I understand now,” Megan said, gently touching him on the shoulder. “By the way, those are pretty good complications. I suppose there must be a terrific story behind them.”
“And I suppose you’ll want to hear it.”
“Every detail.” Megan glanced up at Leo, offering a contrite smile. He extended his hand and helped her back onto the wagon, smiling back as her face brushed past his. “Nicholas, you can tell us your tale on the way to Mason if you’re so inclined.”
He agreed and climbed onto the wagon from the opposite side, at which point Leo snapped the reins and the trio once again rattled along the dirt road into the next village.
By the time they reached Mason, Nicholas had recounted everything that happened to him in Kanesbury on the first night of the Harvest Festival. Only seven days had passed since he ran away from Constable Brindle, though it seemed like a lifetime ago. And despite being in the dark about why people were conspiring against him, Nicholas finally had an inkling about who those individuals might be.
“I knew from the start that that lanky Arthur Weeks was somehow connected to my troubles. He lied right to my face!” Nicholas sputtered with disgust.
“How does that Dooley Kramer fellow fit into all of this?” Megan asked. “When you first mentioned his name to me yesterday, you looked mesmerized.”
Nicholas recalled how Megan had grabbed the edges of his jacket when she was upset with him. That minor action had opened his eyes. “Constable Brindle discovered a button from my jacket near one of the orders that had been stolen from, but I had no idea how it could have ended up there.” He showed Megan and Leo the spot on his jacket missing a button.
“So how did it get there?” Leo asked.
“I couldn’t figure it out until Megan grabbed my jacket yesterday and shook me.”
“Everyone needs to vent their frustrations now and then,” she joked.
“Good thing you did, because it reminded me of something that happened two nights before the Festival.” Nicholas told them of his encounter with Dooley after having left Amanda Stewart’s home. “Dooley was drunk, pretending to straighten out my jacket. At the time I only noticed his stinking breath and just wanted to get away.”
“You think he ripped off a button and placed it in the gristmill?” Leo asked.
“That’s the only logical explanation. And he works with Arthur. Apparently those two were hatching some plot or other.”
“Trying to get your job?” Megan speculated.
“Possibly, but neither are qualified for it. And that seems like an awfully lot of trouble to go through for a job that doesn’t pay much more than those two already earn.”
Leo smirked. “Dooley Kramer sounds like a model citizen.”
Nicholas stroked his chin with a puzzled glint in his eyes. “That’s the funny thing about it, Leo. Dooley can be a slacker sometimes, and you don’t have to twist his arm for him to indulge in the ale. But he was never a serious troublemaker. Either was Arthur. I find it hard to believe that those two cooked up this scheme on their own.” He sighed. “Then Arthur is murdered in the middle of the night and I get blamed. But I know I didn’t kill him, so who did?”
“Dooley?” Leo suggested.
“They were in on the plan together,” Megan said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless Dooley was only using Arthur to help him frame Nicholas before killing him and blaming it on Nicholas.” Leo smiled proudly. “Makes sense now, huh?”
Nicholas shook his head. “Except that I still don’t know what Dooley was after. A robbery and murder? I find it difficult to believe that those two hatched up such a plot on their own. Others must be in on it. But who? And why?”
“You’ll never find the answers while hiding out here. You must go home and confront your accusers head on,” Leo advised.
“I know you’re right, but I need time to think, Leo. That’s why I agreed to go with Megan to Boros first–to buy time. And to build up my nerve. I’ll probably be tossed in the lockup the moment I step foot in Kanesbury.”
“But going back home might prove to some people that you’re not guilty,” said Megan. “That should count for something. And now that you can finger Dooley Kramer as a suspect, that’ll give the authorities another angle to investigate.”
“I suppose so,” he said, sounding encouraged. “I have to admit that talking to you two about my problems has taken a heavy weight off my shoulders. The world doesn’t look so bleak.”
“It helps to speak with friends,” Megan said.
“Wise words for anyone,” Leo added, gently patting her on the knee.
Leo made quick work of his two apple deliveries in Mason, so they had time to stop for lunch at a small restaurant in the village. The cool, dark interior glowed with candles fastened on the stone walls. A steaming tureen of soup and wooden bowls and spoons were set on their table. They also shared a small loaf of warm pumpkin bread which was served sliced and buttered. For half an hour the trio enjoyed a simple meal in the quiet of the shadowy establishment, temporarily setting aside the problems of the road.
“Leo, do you ever get sick of eating apples?” Megan asked at one point. “Being around them constantly, you must get bored at times about their look or taste, don’t you?”
“Never, Megan,” he said without hesitation. “Apples are my livelihood, so I never take them for granted. Besides, how can I get bored with something I care so much about?” he added with a hint of a smile while staring directly into her rich brown eyes.
She felt herself blush, glad that the room was painted in dim shadows. Nicholas quietly groaned as he ate his soup.
“Your flirting on the apple wagon is bad enough, you two,” he teased. “But please, not while I’m eating my lunch!”
Megan and Leo tried to conceal their embarrassment before the three started to chuckle as they finished their meal. A few of the other patrons cast curious stares until the laughter settled down in the usually quiet place. Soon all eyes shifted back to their own tables. Except for one pair.
But the three young travelers seemed blissfully unaware of their surroundings at the moment. Unaware of the gentle flickering of the candles as traces of a cool autumn breeze slipped in through cracks in the wooden window shutters. Unaware of the clattering of crockery pots and metal utensils being washed in the back kitchen in tubs of hot soapy water. Unaware of the scrutinizing set of eyes watching them from a corner table, studying their faces, especially the young woman’s, and wondering how these three came to be here.
The lone gentleman seated at that table quickly finished his meal and walked up to the front of the restaurant to pay his bill. He grabbed his coat and hat dangling on one of the wall pegs near the entrance, put them o
n, and then took a last furtive glance at Nicholas, Megan and Leo as he slipped out the door, a hastily designed scheme brewing in his mind. His current plans were taking him south, but backtracking north might well be worth the short delay. He must grab the opportunities when they appeared, and a grand one had just fallen into his lap.
The man hurried to his horse tied to a nearby post and removed a pipe and a pouch of tobacco from his saddlebag. As his thoughts raced, he filled his pipe, lit it, and returned the pouch to the bag. He took a few puffs, exhaling a bluish-gray smoke that wreathed the air with a pungent scent of cloves. He affectionately scratched the horse behind its ears as he untied it, feeding the animal half a raw carrot he kept in his pocket. He then climbed on his steed and headed north at a steady clip.
He knew his former contact would still be in the village of Plum Orchard since she had other business to attend to there. He only hoped she would appreciate the time and effort he was putting into this spur-of-the-moment endeavor and reward him appropriately. After all, that’s what mattered to him most–the money, not the politics. He took a few more draws on his pipe as he galloped along the dirt road. The wind scraped his face as he greedily calculated what he could earn from this latest deal.
CHAPTER 13
The Plum Orchard Inn
Leo crossed off the name of another satisfied customer on his list. Corlian apples were especially popular when the last shipment of the year rolled around, and this had been his third of four deliveries in the village of Plum Orchard. He then drove to the Plum Orchard Inn, the final stop of the day. The inn was the largest lodging house in the vicinity and the most popular with travelers journeying up and down the dusty expanse of Orchard Road. He and his companions would dine and spend the night there before continuing with the second leg of his marketing route in the morning.
The wagon rolled up to the inn as a cool and windless twilight settled upon the countryside. The Plum Orchard Inn was nestled among a grove of white birch and maple trees. The two-story rectangular building, painted gold like summer wheat and freshly trimmed in white, stood with its back facing north. A glass encased candle highlighted each of the freshly washed windows, greeting the approaching night with a genial glow. Behind the inn were the horse stables and a storage barn, and close by, a pond fed by a bubbling spring from the surrounding hills.
In front near a stone walkway leading to the main door stood a white sign attached between a pair of wooden posts. Two flickering oil lamps hung from extended hooks on either side to illuminate the hand-carved wording.
PLUM ORCHARD INN
lodging, fine dining & spirits
Ron and Mabel Knott, proprietors
~ Established in 721 ~
As Leo pulled the wagon around to a side door, the faces of many patrons were visible through the windows as they enjoyed their meals in the first floor dining rooms. Megan looked on in wonder.
“What a lovely place!” she said. “The grounds are neat and clean, and the building is aglow.” Her white breath dissipated in the chilly air. “I’ll bet it’s toasty warm inside.”
“We’ll have you sitting by a blazing fire in no time, Megan.” Leo brought the wagon to a halt and jumped down to unload the last order. Nicholas joined him.
As they removed the tarp covering the apple crates, the side door leading to the cellar storerooms opened. Out stepped Ron Knott carrying an oil lamp, ducking so as not to hit his head on the doorway. He smiled broadly under a reddish-brown mustache which matched the color of the thick mop of hair on his head. He hung the lamp on a hook near the door and extended a hand to Leo.
“I saw you driving by, so I came down to let you in myself. All the other help is occupied elsewhere. We’re busier than bees tonight.”
“I hope you can squeeze in two additional visitors, Ron. I brought some unexpected company along.”
“Mabel and I always have room for friends of the Marsh family.”
Ron and Mabel Knott, who were about the same age as Leo’s parents, had become acquainted with Leo and his family over the years. Several times during the apple growing season, Leo and his father would choose the Plum Orchard Inn as their overnight stop along their marketing route to the north until it eventually became a three-or-four-times-a-year tradition. Once a season during the warm summer months, Mrs. Marsh would take Leo’s place on the trip just to enjoy a night away from home at the Plum Orchard Inn with her husband. The Marshes and the Knotts had become friends ever since.
Leo introduced Ron to Nicholas and then to Megan, who still sat upon the wagon wrapped snugly in her cloak. “You and your wife run a charming place,” she said. “I can’t wait to see the inside.”
“As soon as I help the boys unload these apples, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“I’d prefer dinner first,” Leo jested as he handed each of his helpers a crate of apples.
“Mabel’s already seeing to that,” Ron assured him as he led Nicholas into the cellar. “And she can’t wait to get her hands on these Corlians. The last shipment is nearly gone and she has plenty of pies still to bake.”
After unloading the apples, Leo and Nicholas refastened the tarp over the remaining crates, totaling about half a wagon. Ron’s youngest son, Fred, showed up and his father instructed him to drive the cart to the storage barn for the night before taking the horses to the stables.
“Give the team a good drink from the stream before you feed them.”
“I will, Father,” the fourteen-year-old said as he eagerly hopped onto the seat of the wagon. His favorite chore around the inn was taking care of the horses, especially when he could ride them.
“I’ll stop in and check on the pair later,” Leo said as Fred offered a wave goodbye.
“Let’s get you folks inside and out of this chill,” Ron said.
He removed the oil lamp from the hook and closed the cellar door, leading the trio around to the front of the inn as the evening deepened and the stars bloomed. The Fox and Bear moons cast faint silvery shadows through the surrounding trees, but a scattering of clouds drifting in from the west eclipsed them from time to time. Ron opened the front door and ushered his guests inside. The warmth, aromas and soft music briefly slipped out across the front lawn and walkway until the door was shut and cold silence again ensued.
Across the road in a field, hidden behind a clump of short scraggly trees, a man watched intently as the four individuals entered the Plum Orchard Inn. His eyes shifted left and right as he deeply inhaled from a pipe, pondering his options. The subtle smoky scent of cloves nuzzled the dry tree branches above.
“It’s so good to see you again, Leo!” Mabel Knott hugged him like a bear. “But then I always say that, don’t I. Still, it’s true. And who are your friends?”
Leo introduced Megan and Nicholas who each received a similar hug from Mabel Knott. She seemed like a favorite aunt they had known for years, wrapped up in her tattered red shawl with a smile popping out on her face with amusing regularity. A thick braid of dirty-blond hair trailed halfway down her back, and large blueberry colored eyes glistened in the candlelight from the entryway.
“Just make sure you say an extra special hello to your folks when you get back home, Leo. I won’t see either one of them until next apple season,” she instructed.
“I’ll do so first thing I get back,” he promised.
“Now let’s get you three settled with some supper right quick. I’m sure you’re nearly starved after being on the road all day. I’ll let you eat in the back dining room tonight. It’s quieter in there.”
After hanging their coats on some pegs near the door, Mabel led the trio down the front hallway which branched off into several rooms. Ron returned to the kitchen. The main dining room was through the first doorway on the left, now filled with the light chatter of dinner guests and soft strains of music. A young lady played a flute while sitting on a cushioned stool near a large crackling fireplace. She wore her long black hair wrapped in a kerchief of autumn colors, playi
ng her haunting notes as if unaware that anyone else was listening. A smaller dining room connected through a corner door.
Off the right side of the main hallway was a large common room. A long table lined with wax-dripping candles ran down the center of the room. Several wooden benches and chairs were arranged around the walls. A stone fireplace against one side blazed and crackled as red and orange flames greedily consumed huge chunks of maple wood cut last summer. The smell of freshly poured ale drifted among the shadows and quiet conversation.
The kitchens were located in back and also in part of the cellar. A narrow staircase in front of the hallway led up to the overnight rooms on the second floor.
Mabel escorted her guests through the main dining area into the back room, stopping now and then to briefly say hello to other diners or simply offer them a wave and a smile. She loved her inn and adored most of the people who patronized it, finding her greatest happiness in life making them happy to be there.
“Sit down and I’ll send Elaine in with some bread, butter and tea right away,” she promised. “Dinner won’t be far behind. I took the liberty of planning the meal for you as I knew you’d be hungry.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Knott,” Nicholas said, immediately catching a reproving eye from both Mabel and Leo.
“We’ll have none of that around here,” Mabel said in a mock reprimand. “Mrs. Knott, indeed! It’s Mabel to my customers, and Mabel only. Understand?”
“Perfectly, Mabel,” he replied, trying to keep a straight face.
“Very well,” she said, scurrying out of the room. “I’ll be back to check on you soon, rest assured.” Then she was gone.
“Now there’s a darling woman or I’ve never met one,” Megan said.
Leo grinned. “Just never call her Mrs. Knott. I learned that lesson years ago. But she is a sweetheart.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 Page 19