the Elliots swung round and rode away back into Liddesdale again as fast as they could, with a few Carletons whooping dangerously after them.
Dodd came upon Carey wiping sweat and rain off his face with a hankerchief while he stood by his horse to let it catch its breath. He was glaring disgustedly at his pretty rapier which had broken off on somebody’s jack.
“Five prisoners,” Dodd reported, “Young Jock Graham, Young Wattie, Sim’s Sim, Henharrow Geordie and…er…Ekie Graham.” Pray that Carey didn’t know Ekie Graham was Bangtail’s half-brother.
“Where are the horses?” demanded Carey.
“Well, they’re here, sir…”
“Not the ones we rode, Sergeant, the ones they stole. It’s all cattle here.”
Dodd looked about. “Ahh,” he groaned. Carey’s lips were pressed tight together as he strode over to where the prisoners were being tied in a line by Long George and Captain Carleton’s younger brother.
“You,” he snapped to Young Jock, who was the tallest and the spottiest and had the best jack and helmet, “where’s your father?”
Young Jock grinned impudently. “Wouldn’t you like to know, eh, Courtier?”
Long George slapped him across the face. “Speak civil to the Deputy Warden,” he said.
Young Jock spat on the ground. Carey looked at him narrow-eyed for a moment, suddenly not seeming angry any more. He turned to Red Sandy who was bustling up with ropes over his shoulder.
“Take a list of the Fenwicks, Musgraves and Carletons that helped us,” said Carey, “see they get their share for backing a hot trod.”
Long George was amused. “Och sir, Captain Carleton’ll see to that, never fear.”
Captain Carleton was overseeing the gathering up of the Graham weapons and horses. His voice boomed over the moor, saying that the wounded man could bide there until his friends came back for him.
“The prisoners, sir? Shall I find some trees?” asked Red Sandy.
“Trees?”
“To hang them on.” Dodd gestured with his thumb. “We caught them red-hand on a lawful hot trod, we have the right.”
Carey put his hankerchief away while he thought about it. Archie Give-it-Them put a rope round Young Jock’s neck and mounted his horse ready to lead them. Young Jock looked surprised and worried for the first time. He seemed to have a boil in his ear which he was trying to scratch with one shoulder.
“Not today, Sergeant,” said Carey, clapping a hand on Dodd’s shoulder comfortingly, “they’ll hang at Carlisle after a fair hearing.”
Red Sandy stared at him in shock. “But sir…” he began.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Carey reproved them, “be practical. I want to find out where the reived horses have gone.” He slapped his horse’s neck, and mounted the tired beast gently. “They can’t tell me anything if they’ve long necks and black tongues, now can they? Have them run back to Carlisle.”
He sent the prisoners off with ten men and with the remaining nine he set about recapturing the cattle. These were long experienced in being raided and had settled down out of their stampede to munch at what fodder they could find.
Dodd and his men urged their weary horses round about the cattle to gather them again, with the dogs darting and nipping among the legs to help them. It took a while, but they had the cattle running in a stream southwards when Dodd cantered up to the Deputy Warden and asked if he wanted them brought through the Waste again.
“No,” said Carey, “we’ll bring them through Lanercost valley and through the pass, and not too fast or the milch cows will take sick.”
Dodd privately objected to being told something he had known before he was eight, but only turned his horse and yipped angrily at an enterprising calf.
At Lanercost Carey took his Warden’s one tenth fee in the form of a cow and a soft-eyed heifer after a ferocious argument over which cattle exactly belonged to the Ogle there, seeing he had not yet got round to branding some of
Dodd came upon Carey wiping sweat and rain off his face with a hankerchief while he stood by his horse to let it catch its breath. He was glaring disgustedly at his pretty rapier which had broken off on somebody’s jack.
“Five prisoners,” Dodd reported, “Young Jock Graham, Young Wattie, Sim’s Sim, Henharrow Geordie and…er…Ekie Graham.” Pray that Carey didn’t know Ekie Graham was Bangtail’s half-brother.
“Where are the horses?” demanded Carey.
“Well, they’re here, sir…”
“Not the ones we rode, Sergeant, the ones they stole. It’s all cattle here.”
Dodd looked about. “Ahh,” he groaned. Carey’s lips were pressed tight together as he strode over to where the prisoners were being tied in a line by Long George and Captain Carleton’s younger brother.
“You,” he snapped to Young Jock, who was the tallest and the spottiest and had the best jack and helmet, “where’s your father?”
Young Jock grinned impudently. “Wouldn’t you like to know, eh, Courtier?”
Long George slapped him across the face. “Speak civil to the Deputy Warden,” he said.
Young Jock spat on the ground. Carey looked at him narrow-eyed for a moment, suddenly not seeming angry any more. He turned to Red Sandy who was bustling up with ropes over his shoulder.
“Take a list of the Fenwicks, Musgraves and Carletons that helped us,” said Carey, “see they get their share for backing a hot trod.”
Long George was amused. “Och sir, Captain Carleton’ll see to that, never fear.”
Captain Carleton was overseeing the gathering up of the Graham weapons and horses. His voice boomed over the moor, saying that the wounded man could bide there until his friends came back for him.
“The prisoners, sir? Shall I find some trees?” asked Red Sandy.
“Trees?”
“To hang them on.” Dodd gestured with his thumb. “We caught them red-hand on a lawful hot trod, we have the right.”
Carey put his hankerchief away while he thought about it. Archie Give-it-Them put a rope round Young Jock’s neck and mounted his horse ready to lead them. Young Jock looked surprised and worried for the first time. He seemed to have a boil in his ear which he was trying to scratch with one shoulder.
“Not today, Sergeant,” said Carey, clapping a hand on Dodd’s shoulder comfortingly, “they’ll hang at Carlisle after a fair hearing.”
Red Sandy stared at him in shock. “But sir…” he began.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Carey reproved them, “be practical. I want to find out where the reived horses have gone.” He slapped his horse’s neck, and mounted the tired beast gently. “They can’t tell me anything if they’ve long necks and black tongues, now can they? Have them run back to Carlisle.”
He sent the prisoners off with ten men and with the remaining nine he set about recapturing the cattle. These were long experienced in being raided and had settled down out of their stampede to munch at what fodder they could find.
Dodd and his men urged their weary horses round about the cattle to gather them again, with the dogs darting and nipping among the legs to help them. It took a while, but they had the cattle running in a stream southwards when Dodd cantered up to the Deputy Warden and asked if he wanted them brought through the Waste again.
“No,” said Carey, “we’ll bring them through Lanercost valley and through the pass, and not too fast or the milch cows will take sick.”
Dodd privately objected to being told something he had known before he was eight, but only turned his horse and yipped angrily at an enterprising calf.
At Lanercost Carey took his Warden’s one tenth fee in the form of a cow and a soft-eyed heifer after a ferocious argument over which cattle exactly belonged to the Ogle there, seeing he had not yet got round to branding some of
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