acknowledges him with a curt nod. ‘Mr Peighton.’ She turns back towards the cookhouse. ‘Sicely, would you bring these men some refreshment? Perhaps some tea. How can I help you gentlemen?’
Mr Peighton steps up and offers Mrs Allen a letter, held at arm’s length. ‘As Chepstow says, we’re here taking stock for the government. We wanted to take a look around, assess the plantation for ourselves, see if we can make some notes on its size and your workforce.’ He gives her half a smile. ‘We need to look at any equipment you might not need.’
Mrs Allen makes a point of looking around her yard. ‘You can see we don’t have much.’
‘No, I’m sure you don’t. None of us do, ma’am. But it’s all part of the war effort. I know you understand. You’ve put a lot of those soldiers into the war yourself.’
‘That’s right, I did.’ Mrs Allen folds her arms, perhaps expecting an argument. ‘If a man can shoot, he can go to war.’
‘That’s very patriotic of you to say so, ma’am. Now tell me, how many horses do you have?’
‘We have three horses and a mule,’ Mrs Allen tells him straight. ‘Though one of those horses is nothing but a nag.’
Peighton looks over his shoulder. ‘They in the barn? All right if we take a look?’ He offers the letter again but Mrs Allen ignores it. ‘I don’t need reminding of my duties, Mr Peighton.’
‘I’m sure you don’t, Mrs Allen.’
Peighton orders the two waiting men into the barnand they swing open the tall door and go inside. After a moment they shout out that we have two decent horses as well as a nag and a mule, just like the lady said, and my heart feels a little lighter for the thought of ’em taking the mule.
Peighton asks the men to bring out the two fit horses. He stands ’em side by side in the yard and walks around each of ’em, feeling the strength in their legs and lifting their lips to check on their teeth. He points to the piebald mare. ‘We’ll take this one for now, but I can’t guarantee we won’t be back for the other one. Men gotta have horses. Ain’t that right, Mrs Allen? No use having soldiers on foot when they can ride a horse.’ He leads the mare across the yard till it stands next to his own horse, which he mounts.
Sicely emerges with a tray full of tea. She has already poured it into cups from the pot in the kitchen, and Mrs Allen says to the men, ‘Would you gentlemen like some tea?’ She picks a cup and saucer from the tray and takes it over to Peighton, handing him the tea as he sits on his horse. He drinks it all in one go and Mrs Allen takes back the cup. ‘Do you have a bill of receipt for my horse?’
Peighton nods at the preacher. ‘Chepstow does the paperwork. He’ll write you one up and he’ll take a proper look around for us, make a list of everything that might be useful in the future. You can expect to see us back here, ma’am, unless we go and win the war by Christmas, but I can’t see that happening.’
He touches his hat and leads his horse from the yard with Mrs Allen’s horse following riderless behind. Those other two men gulp their own tea, saddle up quick and ride out after him.
Mrs Allen calls me over and gives me food from the sacks to take back to Lizzie. I thought it weren’t as much as we usually had, but I can’t be sure that the sack feels lighter. ‘Seeif you can find Hubbard for me,’ she asks me. ‘I need to talk with him about that horse.’
Once I’m on the path to the cabins I hear steps behind me and Gerald runs up to my side. ‘You wanna come with me to the river?’
I swing the sack of food to my other shoulder. ‘I got things to do.’
‘But it’s Sunday! You can do as you please, can’t you? So long as we’re back for the preacher then no one’ll know, and I got a great place where we can play some ball.’
Hubbard comes out of his cabin as we reach the fire pit. ‘S’cuse me, sir,’ I call over to him, ‘but the missus asked for you up at
Mr Peighton steps up and offers Mrs Allen a letter, held at arm’s length. ‘As Chepstow says, we’re here taking stock for the government. We wanted to take a look around, assess the plantation for ourselves, see if we can make some notes on its size and your workforce.’ He gives her half a smile. ‘We need to look at any equipment you might not need.’
Mrs Allen makes a point of looking around her yard. ‘You can see we don’t have much.’
‘No, I’m sure you don’t. None of us do, ma’am. But it’s all part of the war effort. I know you understand. You’ve put a lot of those soldiers into the war yourself.’
‘That’s right, I did.’ Mrs Allen folds her arms, perhaps expecting an argument. ‘If a man can shoot, he can go to war.’
‘That’s very patriotic of you to say so, ma’am. Now tell me, how many horses do you have?’
‘We have three horses and a mule,’ Mrs Allen tells him straight. ‘Though one of those horses is nothing but a nag.’
Peighton looks over his shoulder. ‘They in the barn? All right if we take a look?’ He offers the letter again but Mrs Allen ignores it. ‘I don’t need reminding of my duties, Mr Peighton.’
‘I’m sure you don’t, Mrs Allen.’
Peighton orders the two waiting men into the barnand they swing open the tall door and go inside. After a moment they shout out that we have two decent horses as well as a nag and a mule, just like the lady said, and my heart feels a little lighter for the thought of ’em taking the mule.
Peighton asks the men to bring out the two fit horses. He stands ’em side by side in the yard and walks around each of ’em, feeling the strength in their legs and lifting their lips to check on their teeth. He points to the piebald mare. ‘We’ll take this one for now, but I can’t guarantee we won’t be back for the other one. Men gotta have horses. Ain’t that right, Mrs Allen? No use having soldiers on foot when they can ride a horse.’ He leads the mare across the yard till it stands next to his own horse, which he mounts.
Sicely emerges with a tray full of tea. She has already poured it into cups from the pot in the kitchen, and Mrs Allen says to the men, ‘Would you gentlemen like some tea?’ She picks a cup and saucer from the tray and takes it over to Peighton, handing him the tea as he sits on his horse. He drinks it all in one go and Mrs Allen takes back the cup. ‘Do you have a bill of receipt for my horse?’
Peighton nods at the preacher. ‘Chepstow does the paperwork. He’ll write you one up and he’ll take a proper look around for us, make a list of everything that might be useful in the future. You can expect to see us back here, ma’am, unless we go and win the war by Christmas, but I can’t see that happening.’
He touches his hat and leads his horse from the yard with Mrs Allen’s horse following riderless behind. Those other two men gulp their own tea, saddle up quick and ride out after him.
Mrs Allen calls me over and gives me food from the sacks to take back to Lizzie. I thought it weren’t as much as we usually had, but I can’t be sure that the sack feels lighter. ‘Seeif you can find Hubbard for me,’ she asks me. ‘I need to talk with him about that horse.’
Once I’m on the path to the cabins I hear steps behind me and Gerald runs up to my side. ‘You wanna come with me to the river?’
I swing the sack of food to my other shoulder. ‘I got things to do.’
‘But it’s Sunday! You can do as you please, can’t you? So long as we’re back for the preacher then no one’ll know, and I got a great place where we can play some ball.’
Hubbard comes out of his cabin as we reach the fire pit. ‘S’cuse me, sir,’ I call over to him, ‘but the missus asked for you up at
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