Hawkridge

Chapter 4

Thank you so much for the kind feedback, I'm so glad y'all are enjoying this novel!

I'm releasing these chapters as a countdown until the third book in the series is released on October 23. Check out my website for more information: www.julian-kindred.com

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Please enjoy...

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"Tarnation and Carrion," Colt cried out, rubbing hands over his wet skin to slough the cold water from him. "The Grish y'all doin? Tryin' to kill me?"

"You needed a bath, Hawkridge," said Beau, his fellow ranch hand. He was only a winter older than Colt and half a hand shorter, though he outweighed him by nearly a stone with a squat shape that made him seem shorter still. His square face was broken into a toothy grin.

"'Specially after whatever mess you been diggin' in," Garth said. There was something tight to the smile on his narrow face. How a body could get to be so tall and stay so knobby-knee skinny, Colt had no idea. Far as he knew, Garth always ate just as well as the rest of them.

"Out of my way," came Cookie's voice and the burly chef knocked his fellow hands aside with his sheer presence. Beady eyes too small for the flat, bearded face regarded Colt with the haughtiness of a barn cat. "Old Man Alder said I'm to see you get your soup, even though it's the Grishing middle of the night. And I'm supposed to watch and make sure you eat it, like you're a child and I'm a sitter and not the Grishing cook."

Cookie lived in his kitchen. His pallet moved around, but Colt had seen it on more than one occasion, along with a pack he kept. Almost like he was travelling through his kitchen rather than inhabiting it.

"Daddy," Cookie's daughter, Delilah chided, gliding into the room behind him. Everything about her was soft, from her rounded face to her full hips to her curly brown hair.

Cookie elected not to hear her and shoved the food into Colt's grip.

"How long I been out?" Colt asked, accepting the bowl of soup.

"Couple of hours," Beau answered. "The Grish you been up to? We half thought you was dead when Barnaby came back with an arrow in his saddle and that runaway calf in tow."

"They made it back then." Relief crashed through him, relieving the weight of worry that had lingered in the back of his mind since running into the woods.

"Nothin' can kill old Barnaby," Delilah said. "That gelding'll outlive us all."

Colt grunted. "Ain't that the truth?"

"Eat your soup before I spit in it," Cookie said, looming over him. "Sooner we get this nonsense over, sooner I get back to my kitchen. Swear, any of them gobbos touch my skillets I break their heads."

Colt froze in the process of swinging his legs over the sofa's edge. "What?"

"Bunch of cave goblins," Garth said. "Walt went out to look for ya after Barnaby got back. Found a raiding party instead and got himself shot full of arrows. Been keeping 'em back over an hour before you showed up with all them palies."

"Thought they might could help," Colt said, voice listless. "Walt alright?"

"'Course he ain't," Cookie snapped. "Got half a dozen arrows stickin' out of him. But he ain't dead yet so eat your soup."