“The fine for cursing is a copper per word, gentlemen.You can put your coin on the counter where the bailiff can collect it.I think by now, both of you must owe a shilling.This isn’t a sailing ship.”Kate glared at both men.
From her observation, Brydie decided neither of them appeared to be gentlemen in any sense of the word.Fletch had at least cleaned up a bit for the funeral.His opponent, with his back to the door, appeared to be a ruffian in a worn coat, wilted linen, and overlong black hair.
In the sudden quiet, Rafe stalked to the desk, crossed his arms, and glared, waiting for the coins to be deposited on the counter.Brydie wished Verity were here.She’d know how to handle this brangle in a proper manner.
But when the stranger grumbled and turned to depart, she gasped at the familiar visage.“Parsons!The chicken thief!”
Pushing Brydie behind him, Damien swung, punching the thief in the jaw before Brydie had a chance to kick Parsons’ shins.The thief staggered but didn’t fall.
Kate swung her sewing basket at the back of his head.Parsons dropped to his knees.Fletch guffawed.
Which had everyone turning to him in amazement.He never laughed.
“They’s my sister’s chickens.I didn’t steal nothin’!”Parsons shouted, staying on the floor rather than be hit again.
“You nearly strangled me,” Brydie retorted, unable to kick his shins while he kneeled.
He’d shaved the worst of his heavy black stubble, but his dark hair still straggled over his graying linen.He’d apparently been sleeping in his wrinkled clothes.He didn’t stink, at least, so he must have washed.
Brydie really hadn’t needed to be defended or avenged, but having the rotter on his knees soothed her savage response to his appearance in public.
With his back to the counter, Rafe rested his elbows on the polished old wood and studied the newcomer.“I went looking for you the other day.Were you off stealing more chickens?Threatening another woman?”
Brydie tugged Damien’s arm and whispered, “He was stealingWilla’schickens.Is he claiming to beherbrother?”
And that’s when she realized— In the bright light of day, Parsons looked almost exactly like Willa: broad, square chin, nearly black eyes with thick lashes, coarse black hair.Willa, of course, had been voluptuous, but she’d been of similar height, raw-boned, and broad-shouldered, just like the thief.
“You said you didn’t know Willa!”Brydie cried before anyone else worked it out.They were all newcomers and hadn’t known Willa well—except Fletch, of course, who was looking a bit smug.
“You didn’t ask!Besides, my sister’s name’s Rose!I don’t know no Willa.”Parsons stood again, out of Damien’s reach, and regarded them warily.“Ain’t seen Rose since she started growin’ her bubbies.”
Brydie winced.
“But you knew they were her chickens?”Damien asked in his courtroom voice of disapproval.
Fair point.Brydie’s mind raced through all the questions they’d been gathering, but this connection threw out everything they’d assumed about Willa.
Parsons twisted his hat nervously, presumably seeking the right words.“She always raised them cackling pullets.Old Bartlett said he’d let her take them with her after Ma died and she’d come to live here.Reckoned if that were still his place, they’s hers.But with all the fancy folk over there, I stayed out of the way.”
“Fancy folk?”Brydie laughed, shaking out her dull wool skirt.“Where have you been that we lookfancy?”
“New South Wales.”He backed warily toward the door.“I only stole what Ma needed, but I was young and stupid and got caught.”
Brydie wanted to believe him.The penalty for first offenders was transportation if they stole even a shilling.But she disliked his showing up now.
“Willa said she had a thief for a brother.”Fletch removed the basket from Kate again, this time hiding it behind the counter.“He might be telling the truth.I caught him harassing Miss Butler, demanding to see whoever’s in charge.”
Kate sent Brydie a meaningful look.“We should check on the staff, reassure them we’re not being invaded by barbarians.”
Brydie smiled and took Damien’s arm, resisting her sister’s order.“Tell them I shall be there shortly, as soon as I settle everyone in the pub with a mug of ale.They should start luncheon.I have a few questions first.”
“Brydie...”Damien said warningly.
“It wasmyneck he throttled.I understand now that he may have learned to live rough, but I will not be left out.We need information.”She dropped his arm and strode for the pub when he did not immediately follow her lead.Two strong characters...She and Damien had to learn how to act together, if they meant to marry.
“I’ll mind the counter.”Fletch returned to his usual surly self.“Convicts also learn to lie, and I’ll not be hearing his tall tales.Willa deserved better.”
Fletch actually talking— Brydie liked him better when he was silent.In the pub, she slid behind the bar and brought down mugs so Rafe could draw ale.He was experimenting with making his own and she didn’t know one barrel from another.
