by T K Foster
It was not yet light out when Ballders set a hearty breakfast on the table for them all. Provisions had already been made and the four burros packed and ready to go.
Cetra was the first to bounce out from beneath her soft throw as the three of them were roused by the clink and clamour of pots and utensils.
“Good morning,” she announced in the semi-lit room, “I hope everybody did sleep well.”
The question was met with a groan, a moan, a sucking back of drool, and a sneeze. If it weren’t for the light directly shining from the kitchen recess into Billy’s eyes the sneeze may not have eventuated, but it certainly did help to wake him up all the quicker; that accompanied with the delicious smells of breakfast of course.
From another part of the room where it still remained quite dark, Barret sat upright with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He grimaced at the touch of cold drool and quickly rubbed it away with the corner of the blanket, thankful of the darkness that hid the slippery string draped between his lips and his fingers.
“Where is Briar?” came Cetra’s voice again into the awakening room.
“Making nonsense I suspect,” Ballders announced with a bellow and a good morning smile to-boot.
At the opposite end of the room, closest to the way they had originally entered, the seat which Briar had chose to go to sleep on was empty; barring a pile of cushions and a single blanket.
“That’d be right. The little pig-faced brat,” Barret cursed, “The mongrel makes plans and then bales. Why I ought....”
“I’m sure he’s around,” Billy cut in calmly, but glared at the tall figure in the shadows.
Barret rubbed his eyes with closed fists and winced slightly at having pressed too hard. He used his fingers as a comb and ran them through his hair, which oddly enough remained sticking up anyway. He was hungry and couldn’t have cared less how the others might react to his blatant distaste toward Briar. Briar was untrustworthy, plain and simple; and he was cheeky, and who knows what he was up to taking off in the middle of the night.
Billy on the other hand was willing to give Briar the benefit of the doubt; mind you, what choice did he have? He wanted to see where the adventure was going to take him next. Not that he in any way really trusted the pig-faced kid either, but Briar had become the key player in this new direction to the journey.
Cetra’s opinion of Briar was simple, she liked him; but then, Cetra did like everyone.
It was about that time when Briar quietly appeared in the doorway, his pudgy silhouette catching everyone’s eyes as it hesitated before entering the room.
“Good morning me young fella, and welcome back,” Ballders said with his large voice, crushing the silence, “Would ye like a spot of breakfast?”
“Breakfast, yum,” came the reply, a slurp of saliva evident in his words.
Barret stepped forward and grabbed Briar’s fat little arm as he made toward the table.
“Where have you been?” he growled, leaning down to just above the level of Briar’s face.
Briar caught the disdain but was hardly affected by it. He lifted his pokey hand to Barret’s head and patted down his hair. “You look like a scarecrow,” he said calmly.
Barrett smacked away the hand, “I’ll give you scarecrow....” he grated, his fist quickly held before Briar’s face.
“For goodness sake,” Billy reacted from the other side of the room, “would you two just shut up for once.”
Barret let go of Briar’s arm and pushed him away. In doing so Briar lost his footing, slipped on a rug and fell on his bottom. This of course was funny, but Barret was the only one who laughed.
“So where have you been?” Billy reiterated the question.
“No,” Briar said defiantly, standing up again and dusting off his backside. He pointed at the tall Irishman who had assaulted him. “I want him to ask.”
“I did ask,” Barret hissed.
“But you didn’t ask nicely.”
“What? You’re kidding me?”
“You want to know where I was. You ask me nicely.”
“Just do it!” Billy said, calling the game Briar was playing.
As the head of his own household, which generally equated to only the one head for most of the time, Ballders perceived the current situation as getting slightly out of hand, so after a moment of thought he quickly stepped in with a new course of action.
“Shut up the lot of ye,” he boomed and then slammed the wooden bowl he was holding down onto the table, causing its silky yellow contents to spill out over his hand.
The immediate reaction from everyone was one of surprise, and then Ballders’ steely gaze appeared to provoke some fear in them all. This was a great effect. Now having gained their full attention Ballders unsympathetically demanded from Briar his previous whereabouts.
“I....” Briar began, then immediately looked at his feet, “I had to let my mother know where I am....”
“Rubbish!” Ballders scoffed from behind his hand. “That’s good enough for me, and I accept yer explanation on behalf of everyone else in me house. Now let’s eat.”
Having commanded their full attention and taken complete control of the events at hand, Ballders was quite happy with the ensuing prospects of finishing breakfast and getting rid of these four creatures from his home.
CHAPTER TWELVE