The silence hung heavy as Turney set down steaming hot mugs of tea before each of them. Richard found himself drawn to Turney’s curious, rolling gait as the big farmer waddled around the cluttered farmhouse kitchen like a duck. Richard would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the dog, which sat in front of the fire, watching him so keenly with its red, unblinking eyes. Turney had carried the brute in, its head leaking blood from where the rock had cut into its skull. But the farmer didn’t mention anything about that, merely tended to his pet in silence, cleaning the wound and settling him down on the hearth mat, where it remained, watchful.
“You can stay here tonight,” Turney mumbled, returning to the table with bowls of soup and hunks of homemade bread on the side. “It’s too dark to be s
