Beast and Beatrice

Chapter twelve- Gilbert

Gilbert forced himself to remain completely still. The last thing he wanted was to be shot simply because he moved. He focused all his energy into staring down the three intruders. He had discovered that many people were as unnerved by his intense stare as they were by his silence, and these men were no exception. They wisely kept their distance. They were an odd group. The pompous grocer, the gruff sheriff, and the relaxed deputy. The sheriff remained calm, staid, and resolute. His deputy, while younger than either of the others, seemed indifferent. He sat his horse with ease, seemingly content to simply observe. It was the rotund merchant who most concerned him.

Narwhal wriggled restlessly in his seat, his belligerent glare focused on Gilbert. He fidgeted so much that he wobbled precariously in the saddle. Fearfully yanking the reins in a bid to keep his seat, he thoughtlessly jerked the bit, and his poor horse screamed with painful protest. Shaking its head, the mistreated beast danced and fretfully sidestepped into the deputy's mount. The young man urged his own animal aside but made no move to help the shopkeeper regain control of his horse.

The Sheriff ignored the distraction. His stern gaze remained focused on Gilbert, his expression stoic.

"A young woman has gone missing." The Sheriff began gruffly. "We have reason to believe you might know something of her whereabouts."

"Where have you hidden her?" The grocer shouted suddenly. He shook a pudgy fist at Gilbert, his round face red with rage as he struggled to maintain his seat. "We know you have her hidden somewhere."

If Gilbert wasn't careful, the blustering shopkeeper was going to get him shot. And he still had no idea what the greedy toad was going on about. Obviously, this had something to do with the girl. Was Narwhal the man she'd been running from?

"I will ask the questions, Narwhal." The Sheriff asserted.

"He has her hidden here somewhere. I know he does." The portly man insisted. "She has to be here. We need to search the place."

Gilbert watched in some sympathy as Daimler sucked in a deep breath, no doubt searching for patience. The older man made a concerted effort to ignore the feisty merchant, focusing instead on Gilbert. He spoke quietly but with determination.

"We will need to search your property. Do you have any objections?"

At least the Sheriff was giving him the token courtesy of a choice. Gilbert could be grateful the older man didn't just take Narwhal's accusations at face value.

"You're wasting your time, Daimler." Narwhal sneered. "I told you. The man can't speak."

The Sheriff pressed his lips together, struggling to hold onto his temper. "He doesn't need to speak. All he has to do is nod." Daimler growled, the words coming from between gritted teeth.

Narwhal continued his ranting, oblivious to the Sheriff's growing ire.

"I highly doubt he even understands a word you're saying. Look at him." The portly merchant glared down his surprisingly long blade of a nose at Gilbert. "The man is obviously an imbecile, little better than a mindless beast."

Gilbert was seriously contemplating the merits of lightening the poor horse's burden by dragging that fat gorgon from its back and showing him just how beastly he could be. But while such an act might satisfy his bruised ego, it would do little good in his bid to convince the Sheriff he was a complacent, law-abiding citizen. So he satisfied his ire by simply glaring at the obnoxious merchant.

"The man is dangerous. He shouldn't be allowed to mix with decent society." Narwhal shrilly insisted. "I want you to do your job and arrest him."

Clearly, at the end of his patience, Sheriff Daimler turned his glare on the obnoxious merchant and barked, "Do not tell me how to do my job, Narwhal."