Dickie settled in the chair beside her. “How’s things?”
“Can’t complain,” Conran replied. “The weather’s been excellent for our animals, and the grain is growing well.”
All three knew it was Addie who was best acquainted with how the estate’s fields were faring, and she responded in similar vein.
Conran dipped his head, acknowledging that the niceties had been observed. “I can see that you’re busy, but McGrath mentioned you were looking for a horse some thief led off—a big bay stallion?”
Addie sat up. “Yes, we are. Have you seen him? Or them? The horse and thief?”
His gaze on her face, Conran solemnly nodded. “It seems that I did.”
“When?” Dickie asked.
“It would have been Wednesday, latish. I was in my lower field, the one that borders the Sleaford road just past the turn to Lincoln.”
Addie nodded. “We know it.”
“Aye, well,” Conran went on, “I was watching my men baling the hay we’d just cut. I was on my old mare, so I could see over the hedge, and the sun striking the horse’s coat caught my eye. Beautifully glossy, he was, and looked to be a damned fine horse. If I’d been closer, I’d have been tempted to ask the fellow leading the beast where he was taking him. If he was for sale. But I was up the side of the field, too far away to hail him.”
Addie hauled in a breath and held it. “Just to be sure, can you describe the horse?”
“Well,” Conran hedged, “I couldn’t see much about his gait—I only saw him barrel up, so to speak—but he was a rich bay in color, with a darker mane and tail. Very tall and powerful looking. He made the horse the man was riding look small, although I don’t think it was.”
“The man.” Dickie looked to be restraining himself from leaping in excitement. “Did you get a good look at him?”
Conran wrinkled his nose. “Not as good a look as I got of the horse. Naturally, my eye was drawn to the beast. What I saw of the man… Well, he was dark-haired. A gentleman, I’d say. Rode well. Decent cut to his coat, and that was dark, too. He was riding a chestnut, a nice enough mount, but not in the same league as the bay.”
Not many horses were in the same league as The Barbarian.
Conran was looking back and forth between Addie and Dickie. “Is that any help?”
Addie refocused on Conran and beamed. “Yes! Thank you for thinking to tell us. That’s exactly the news we’ve been searching for.”
Dickie pressed, “And the man was definitely riding toward Sleaford?”
“Aye.” Conran nodded. “He wasn’t looking around. You know how it is—he was riding with his gaze fixed far ahead, set on getting along.”
“The time.” Addie caught Conran’s eye. “Would the man have reached Sleaford before dark, do you think?”
Conran nodded. “Easily, I’d have said. Perhaps not in time for dinner at the usual hour but well before nightfall.”
By the “usual hour,” Conran meant six o’clock.
“Thank you!” Addie and Dickie chorused as they rose.
Conran lumbered to his feet, and Dickie shook hands again.
Addie beamed. “We must get back and tell the others. We’ve been chasing the thief for days.”
Conran dipped his head. “Glad I could be of help.”
Still beaming her gratitude, Addie turned and, with Dickie on her heels, rushed back to the table where the others sat waiting.
As she and Dickie slid onto on the ends of the benches, she declared, “You’ll never guess what we’ve just learned!”
Between them, she and Dickie related the gist of what Conran had told them.
“So!” Ready to be off, Addie fixed her gaze on Nicholas. “You wanted a firm sighting, and now, we have one. Are we off to Honington, then?”
