Venture Untamed (The Venture Books) by R.H. Russell Page B

a sigh.
    Venture ignored Tory’s screaming. “It’s Sixth Day, right?” he said groggily.
    “Umm-hmm.”
    “I’m at the Big House this morning.”
    “I don’t know where you get the energy.”
    He shrugged and took a bite of his egg.
    “Take it easy today, okay? I know you’re hurt.”
    Venture stuffed the last of his bread in his mouth so that he wouldn’t have to respond. She sipped her coffee and didn’t press him.
    “Thanks for breakfast,” he said as he got up to leave.
    She lifted her head and regarded him seriously. “You didn’t get in a fight, did you?”
    He shook his head. “Everything’s fine.” Except that I’m wasting my life. And I’ve lost my best friend, too. But not for long—he was going to make sure of that, no matter what Justice thought. He just had to be careful, that was all.
    He rummaged under his bed until he found what he was looking for, then stuffed the book under his arm and his feet into his boots. When he opened the door, there was Lightning, a limp, bloody rabbit at her feet. It was a pitiful little rabbit, but a gift just the same. Lightning looked up at him with expectant brown eyes. Her tail thumped on the hard-packed earth outside the door and she scratched a paw crusted with blood and dirt back and forth before the offering. Venture took the rabbit up by the ears and looked it over as though he were very impressed. He patted Lightning and thanked her, and gave her a good hug in spite of her filthy coat.
    “Grant Fieldstone’s your master, you know.” He walked briskly, rabbit in hand, and she ran gleeful circles around him. “Anything you catch rightfully belongs to him, unless it’s one of the chickens from our coop, and if you ever do that we’ll both will be in trouble like you won’t believe. Still, it’s a good catch. You’ll be snagging good fat ones before long.”
    Venture spent the morning in the service courtyard picking the burrs from Lightning’s paws, and washing the dried blood from her muzzle, and giving her short coat a good brushing. It was what his master would’ve wanted him to do. Grant Fieldstone took good care of all of his animals.
    Thinking it would make a good addition to their noontime stew, Venture then dressed the rabbit for Mrs. Bright. His soiled sleeves were rolled up and he wore a bloodstained apron as he carried it into the kitchen.
    “Good morning, Venture.” Rose paused in her supervision of the kitchen to greet him.  
    “Good morning, Mistress.” He bowed.
    “Mrs. Bright tells me our dog brought you something this morning.” She nodded at the skinned rabbit in his hand.
    “Yes, Mistress. She’s practicing for the big ones.”
    “I imagine if you took her with you hunting on your own time, she’d make Grant a fine hunting dog in no time at all.”
    “For myself, Mistress?”
    Grant was already unusually generous; in the evenings and on his days off, Venture was allowed to hunt and fish on his master’s land and to keep the catch for himself. But to use one of Grant’s dogs, that was another thing entirely. It would mean not only getting meat through the use of his master’s dog, but that there would be much more of it. The law prohibited him, a bonded servant, from owning a weapon, including a spear or bow; without a dog he was limited to what he could catch with homemade traps, and to fishing with hooks and nets.
    “Of course for yourself. Whatever she brings to you, whatever she catches hunting with you—apart from when Grant sends you out himself, of course—you keep. You will be doing him a favor.”
    “Thank you, Mistress.”
    Won’t Justice be happy , he thought momentarily; though they were well fed, the addition of more meat and more variety would be welcome. But, no, Justice would see this as yet another blurring of the lines between master and servant, even though it came from Rose, who sought more than her son to keep the distinction clear. Well , I can just cook it up for me and Grace then,