Page 11 of The Gift of Patience
The next morning, he was anxious to go out and do more investigating. He needed to send a report to Renforth, but he wanted to have more to tell him first.
Westwood was waiting for him when he came downstairs. No one else appeared to be awake yet.
“I doubt the waters will have receded enough, but we can certainly go see.”
The grooms had both Caesar and Maximus saddled and ready for them. They mounted and set off at a slow trot, the path still muddied from the heavy rains.
“At least it has not rained again since yesterday,” Westwood remarked.
A few days’ reprieve would certainly help the investigation. “Have there been any further reports since you wrote to me in London?”
“Nothing,” his brother answered. As they neared the bridge, Westwood pulled to the left. “I want to look at the campsite.”
They dismounted and allowed the horses to graze while they surveyed the abandoned area. Perhaps a fresh set of eyes would catch some things Ashley had missed.
He took the wider path while his brother went back over the remnants of the clearing and fire. There was possibly a slight trail off to the side of the camp where some of the underbrush had been disturbed, but nothing that appeared to lead anywhere. Besides, the intruder would not have returned, knowing he had been spotted.
“I do not see anything other than what you pointed out,” Westwood observed. They were not far from the bridge and walked their horses over. The water was still running high, but the diversion was down to a small stream, no more than knee-deep.
“I think we can manage it,” he said.
“I agree.” They remounted and crossed the bridge with ease. The horses did not even shy at the water.
The other side of the bridge was untamed as Ashley like to think of it. The only structure being the pier.
They rode along the path which was still muddy. “I think any footprints or wheel ruts were washed away by the rain. If there were any,” Westwood remarked.
“I see nothing, but let us proceed.”
They reached the river, which was high, moving faster than Ashley had ever seen it.
The estate’s pier, which normally extended over a portion of marsh, was covered by running water. Normally used to transport horses across from Lord Carew’s large ship, it was a wide, robust structure with a small shelter attached, where someone could wait for the ship to arrive.
They both dismounted and looked around, but Ashley did not expect to find anything.
“Is there anywhere a shipment of arms could be stored here?” he asked aloud, though he was asking himself as much as Westwood.
“There are no structures on the side of the bridge, as you well know. If a shipment was delivered and unloaded here, the evidence is already washed away.”
“But if they stockpiled it nearby, where would it be?” Ashley turned in a circle and only saw trees and vegetation.
“You think they must be here and the campsite housed the guard?” Westwood asked.
“I think it’s a possibility we must consider.”
“If that is the case, then they will not leave them here unguarded.” He was already walking back to his gelding. “They will want to move the arms as soon as it is safe.”
“I agree. I think I need to send for the others to help us search.”
“But where?” Westwood paused.
“If I were responsible for precious cargo, I would stay within sight.”
“Then that would mean back over the bridge, much too close to the house for my comfort.” His brother voiced what he was thinking. “Did Renforth say how much we are looking for?”
“No. But several crates, I imagine.”
“Could they have dug graves for them?”
