The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) by Trish Mercer Page B

Jaytsy she whispered,
“They never would have let Mr. Briter in. They have standards , you know.”
    He scoffed over Jaytsy’s giggles. “I already
know cows! But what those professors have those boys doing . . .
Miss Jaytsy, they do talking and treats and music and massages—it’s
only a matter of time before those cows agree to marry those
boys.”
    Jaytsy laughed, easily and lightly, as Sewzi
scooched her chair away from her husband.
    “ Oh, honestly, Cambo. It’s
nothing like that, Jaytsy. Deckett’s always had a very good sense
for cattle, that’s all. Someday he’ll come visit us,” she promised,
“and I’ll introduce you to him.” Her eyes lit up with too much
planning.
    Jaytsy blushed. “Yes, well, we’ll see,” she
said, worried that Deckett may be as loud and engaging as
Cambozola. She liked the man, but in small doses. To keep from
saying anything else, she sipped the marvelous vegetable broth and
felt a warm Weeding Day slide down to her belly.
    Over her mug, Jaytsy noticed Mrs. Briter
watching her closely. “Bad day?”
    Jaytsy shrugged. “Avoiding a certain
captain.”
    “ Ah,” Sewzi said. “The same
one who frequently scoured our fields in Weeding Season looking for
you? Rides a gray horse?”
    “ The same,” Jaytsy sighed.
“Was I relieved when the tomatoes grew tall enough to hide
me.”
    Cambozola smiled mischievously. “So . . . not
too interested in soldiers, then?”
    “ I don’t know who I’ll be
interested in,” Jaytsy said honestly and sipped more broth as Sewzi
smacked her husband once more.
    “ Hush, you! Don’t you go
scaring off my best weeder.”
    Jaytsy grinned. “Would take a lot more than
that to scare me off. This place . . . it’s like Paradise.”
    Sewzi squeezed her arm. “It’s Paradise when
you come to visit us. I hope your father doesn’t mind?”
    “ I convinced him moons ago
that you aren’t really Guarders in disguise,” she assured
them.
    “ How’d you do that?”
Cambozola wanted to know.
    Jaytsy squirmed. “Actually, he came to that
conclusion himself. He said that you were—” she hesitated as
she looked into the hopeful eyes of Mr. Briter, “—too loud and
obvious to be a Guarder. Sorry.”
    His wife burst out laughing as Cambozola’s
face twisted in dismay. “Too loud?! Obvious? Me!”
    Jaytsy shrugged in apology. “You make him
nervous. You could take that as a compliment?”
    Cambozola’s dismay dissolved into despair as
he watched his wife laughing.
    “ I make him nervous?!”
    Sewzi wiped away a tear. “See? It wasn’t just
people in Moorland! Ah, Jaytsy,” she said, “you come here whenever
you want, on the pretense of sorting seeds—”
    “ But we already did that,”
Jaytsy reminded her.
    Sewzi blinked meaningfully. “My husband makes
me nervous, and I drop the baskets. Frequently.”
    “ Hey!” he protested, but
Jaytsy grinned in understanding.
    “ What about your brother?
Does he have a place to go?” Sewzi asked.
    “ To hide, you mean?” Jaytsy
said with a sad scoff. “Yes, he does. I never thought my mother
would agree to let him play kickball, but when my father handed him
the slips of silver, there wasn’t much she could say.”
    “ Kickball?” Cambozola
frowned. “Still? In the snow?”
    “ My parents don’t know the
season ended several weeks ago. Peto kept leaving each afternoon
anyway, and I followed him once. Turns out he was helping Rector
Yung with the peach harvest, and he still sneaks over there almost
every day.”
    Cambozola sat back and smiled. “So that’s why
Yung said he didn’t need help with his woodpile when I offered.
Said he had reliable assistance.”
    Sewzi sighed. “You children are remarkable.
Someday, your parents will notice again.”
    Jaytsy blushed. “Thank you, but I don’t know
. . .”
    “ Don’t talk like that!”
Sewzi squeezed her again. “I saw your father at the taxation
collection. He was actually smiling.”
    “ And laughing,” Cambozola
added.