Sweet Bea by Sarah Hegger

For a craven moment, she almost lied, but she couldn’t. Tom would hunt those poor women to the ends of the earth. “The women took nothing. I gave them the purse.”
    Tom’s mouth dropped open.
    Beatrice shifted and braced herself for a storm.
    Tom went rigid, his eyes starting out of his head. “Say again.”
    Garrett merely watched, his elbows braced on Parsley’s back.
    “It was my money.” And she’d done with it as she saw fit. “You were merely keeping it safe.”
    “You gave our money to those women?”
    “They needed it, Tom.” Beatrice moved closer to Breeze’s reassuring bulk. “You saw how thin some of them were. And the children, Tom, how could you begrudge coin to those tiny, starving children?”
    “You gave them our money?” Tom’s jerked on the reins.
    Badger tossed his head, snorted, and carried Tom into a nearby bush.
    Tom cursed and fought his way clear of the grasping branches, arms flailing, his face alarmingly red.
    “Aye.” Beatrice winced as he tugged twigs out of his tunic. Inside she quaked like a pudding. “They were hungry.”
    “I am hungry.” Tom flung greenery at the ground. “What coin will you use to feed us?”
    “I have more. I did not give you all our coin to hold.”
    “How much?”
    “Enough.”
    “How. Much.” Tom’s lips compressed into a tight line.
    “Have done,” Garrett said. “The sun will break soon, and I do not like the look of those clouds.” He pointed above the trees.
    Gravid, pewter clouds rested above the treetops, streaked with dawn’s colors.
    “We should find shelter before the storm breaks.”
    “And how shall we pay for shelter?” Tom soothed Badger, stroking the bay geldings neck.
    “I told you,” Beatrice said, her patience worn thin, “I did not give them all our money.”
    “I do not believe you.”
    “Jesu.” Garrett shook his head. “You squabble like children.”
    “We do not.”
    Garrett kept his gaze level.
    “Much.” She squirmed a bit. “All right.” She mounted Breeze, so she wouldn’t have to look at the knowing expression on his face. “We have been friends since we were children. Old habits are hard to break.”
    Garrett scrabbled onto Parsley’s back.
    Beatrice opened her mouth to give him a hint. She snapped it shut again. Garrett couldn’t ride, but he hadn’t said anything. She suspected he wouldn’t take well to her giving him some instruction.
    “Are you coming?” He glanced at Tom over his shoulder. “For myself, I do not care what you decide.”
    Tom went redder and clenched his fists by his sides.
    Beatrice tensed.
    Tom looked ready to launch himself at Garrett and drag him to the ground.
    She said a quick prayer that Tom’s normal common sense would prevail. He’d be no match for Garrett’s steely bulk.
    “Come, Tom.” She plucked a leaf from the top of his boot. “We still have more coin. We will have to use what remains more sparingly.”
    “You had no right to give away money without discussing it first.” Tom’s face was grim, but at least he guided Badger onto the small bridle path behind Garrett.
    Danger averted, for now. Beatrice mounted and followed him. “If I had asked what would you have said?”
    “I would have told you not to be an idiot,” Tom replied.
    Beatrice smirked at him. “You see?” She clucked to Breeze. “Which is why I did not tell you.”
    Garrett choked. He turned his head toward the woods beside them.
    Beatrice guided Breeze behind Parsley. “Come along.”
    Garrett bounced around on Parsley’s broad back as they followed the bridle path along the line of the wood to where it opened onto a wider road.
    She’d love to give him a hint or two. He’d be rattled black and blue if he kept that up. The day was still and oppressive. Even the birds were quite, other than the occasional thrush busily calling from the treetops.
    She spared a moment’s sympathy for Parsley. He wasn’t accustomed to having an inexperienced rider jar his back. It was a