Page 14 of The Gift of Patience
“Shall we begin?” She turned to ask Westwood, not wanting to deal with Major Stuart’s surliness.
“I will take this far edge,” he said, pointing. “Patience, if you can stay around twenty paces from me and Ashley, you takeanother twenty paces, then we will begin walking from here to the boundary of the estate.”
Patience was surprised they would be so close, but she did not argue. She stepped off her paces, then Major Stuart did the same and they began to walk, one of them occasionally stopping to lift a log or search inside of a stump. Fox burrows and indentations from sleeping deer were the extent of their finds.
It was tedious, boring work. But she would never give Major Stuart the satisfaction of hearing her complain. She was thankful she had the foresight to rid herself of her skirts as it was, her breeches and boots were scratched by thorns and brush.
Signs of autumn were beginning to show as leaves were tinged with the first hints of crimson and gold, still glistening with raindrops. The sound of their footsteps crunching through the fallen leaves, moss, and ferns were punctuated by the sound of the river in the distance.
By the time they reached the boundary of the estate, the clouds had begun to spit drizzle, and it was not long until her bonnet and hair were soaked.
“Nothing,” Westwood said as they stopped at the perimeter of his land. He held out his hand. “Let us move over and return.”
Major Stuart stepped off twenty more paces. Patience went twenty beyond him then Westwood, twenty more. They began the tedious, methodical walk back. Halfway to the path, there was a dovecote, which at least broke up the monotony of searching the woods.
Patience had never been inside a dovecote, though the thought of hundreds of birds and their refuse in one place was not her idea of pleasant.
“Shall I search the perimeter?” she offered.
“If you wish,” Westwood answered as he pulled out a key to the octagonal-shaped stone building. “But there are no longer birds inside.”
“Miss Whitford is not afraid of birds, surely?” Major Stuart taunted.
“A few birds, no. Hundreds of birds in a small space? Fear is not the word I would choose. Nightmarish comes to mind.”
Westwood laughed at her as he unlocked the door. “Come and see.”
The stone building itself was covered with ledges around the perimeter in varying layers. The iron door was small and she had to duck to enter, and was immediately assailed with a similar odour to the chicken coop. This structure appeared much harder to clean with hundreds of small alcoves for nests from shoulder height up to the ceiling. Light shone down on the dirt floor from high windows around the top.
“Is that how the birds entered?” she asked.
“Yes, and if you notice, the nests do not begin at the bottom. It is to protect them from rodents.”
“How…interesting.”
“I do not see anything of interest here, Dom,” Major Stuart said.
“It would have been an excellent hiding spot,” Westwood remarked.
“If you have anosmia, perhaps,” she muttered.
Westwood checked his pocket watch. “It is time for our rendezvous. Hopefully, the others have had more luck than us.”
“I cannot help but wonder if something is right here but the rain washed the evidence away,” Major Stuart said as they exited.
“We will have to remain vigilant until we are satisfied there is no longer a threat.” Westwood locked the door behind them.
“I will feel better once the others arrive to help. With luck, they will be here soon.”
They continued on back to the clearing, where they’d left the horses, which began to nicker when they saw them.
“Poor Caesar! You thought you were going to have a ride when you were saddled this morning, did you not? You may still be in luck,” Major Stuart said to his gelding, who began to lean into his master’s hand.
“I’d much rather be riding than walking every inch of the estate,” Westwood agreed.
Patience wished they would confide in her what they were looking for. She no longer believed it was a simple vagrant.
As she began to untie Midnight, she noticed her ears were back and she was digging at the ground with her hoof. “What is the matter, old girl?” she asked. “It is not like you to do that.”
