Read TARN & BECK for Free Online Page A

Nutmeg or killed like Ralph, Tarn thought. He couldn’t bear to have another person on his conscience.
    “Definitely, he had all of his belongings with him when he left. And then they came storming in here, a whole crowd of them.” The landlord said. “They left not long ago. I have half a mind to track Beck down to pay for the damage. I’m certain he’s wrapped up in something.”
    “I assure you it’s not of his doing.” Tarn said.
    It’s all my fault, Tarn thought to himself, and I have to stop this before Carroll goes too far again.
    At that moment, a middle-aged woman came up to the landlord standing in the doorway. “Beck! Where is he, is he all right?” She asked the landlord.
    Tarn turned around and faced her. “Ma’am, are you Beck’s mother?”
    Cecily frowned and turned to Tarn. “I’m not, though I did take care of him like one. Why do you want to know?”
    “His life may be in danger. Some terrible people are after him.” Tarn said, almost pleading with her. “Please, I need to know where he is and what’s happened to him in case I can help.”
    “They’re not going to find him. He’s already left, gone to--Dosile.” Cecily said.
    The last word slipped out before she could stop herself. She might have distrusted Tarn, believing he was in league with those people who would harm Beck. But the way he spoke to her seemed earnest and he sounded desperate enough to have such a desire to help.
    “Thank you,” Tarn said, striding towards the doorway to leave.
    “Who are you?” Cecily asked as he slipped past her and the landlord.
    Tarn hesitated, turning towards them. “A friend, I hope!”
    He didn’t know Beck at all, but he would rather be the man’s friend than his downfall.
    Tarn ran off and Cecily pondered this development as she spoke to the landlord now about what had occurred here. She didn’t know this man or how he was involved with Beck and this break-in, but she hoped that he truly was as genuine as he seemed, for Beck’s sake.
     
    As the morning wore on, the postal coach thundered through the countryside along a farm road. The driver snapped the switch above the horses’ heads.
    Four attendants also rode the coach, one seated by the driver, one hanging off of the back, and two sitting on top of the coach amongst the luggage. All of the attendants had a small pistol or musket, a necessary precaution to defend themselves from highwaymen.
    Inside the coach’s cab, Beck sat across from Greg next to one of Lavonya’s hired guards, glaring at his old nemesis. Beck clutched his bag of gold coins as Greg clutched his small case, both of them greedy and protective of their possessions.
    “I hope you’re happy, getting me fired.” Beck said.
    “It’s not my fault you can’t take a joke.” Greg said.
    “A joke? Who puts rats in people’s desks or in their lunch pails as a joke?”
    The guards snickered amongst each other, but then quieted when Greg glared at them. They were paid to defend the Lavonya firm’s assets and personnel, not to laugh at or with them.
    “All right, it might have been childish of me. But you’re the one who punched me in turn. Bloody violent, little man.” Greg said, looking away from Beck out the window.
    Beck shrugged. “So I lost control, big deal.”
    Greg practically thrust his finger in Beck’s face, annoying Beck once more. “It is a bloody big deal. We can’t have employees knocking each other’s heads off.” Greg leaned back in his seat. “It’s bad for business.”
    Beck rolled his eyes. “Well, fine. I’ll keep that in mind whenever I find my next job.”
    “Your next job? Good luck with that.” Greg grinned. “I’ll spread your name like wildfire or dung through the streets of Silvo so that you can’t get a job there.”
    Beck grimaced and looked out his coach window. “Well, thanks to prats like you, I’ve had enough of Silvo. That’s why I’m going to Dosile.”
    Greg clapped sardonically as the guards and Beck