Bab 93: Chapter 93

“Morning, Otter.” He moved forward and offered a handshake, Indian style, his eager smile belying his reserved manner.

“The horses look in fine condition. You care for them well.”

“Crow does most of it. Well, the heavy stuff, anyway. You know, keeping them shod. But I guess I do the rest. Mucking out the stable—”

“I have to help with that sometimes,” John interrupted him.

“Keeping a man’s horses fit and ready for action is warrior’s work,” I said.

“Even if they belong to someone else?” Matthew asked.

“Even if they belong to someone else.”

* * * *

During my three days at the Mead, I noticed the growing divide between the youngsters of the family. Alexander was quiet and reserved and obsessed with earning his father’s approval at every turn. Although only two years older than John, he almost seemed an only child. I saw little of the playful exchanges that passed between John and Matthew and Rachel Ann. I put it down to a difference in Alexander’s solemn nature.