Page 6 of The Wolf in My Tavern

I snatch the keys up and press on to the next cell, opening the door. Wary faces greet me, and my heart breaks with pity. “We’ve come to get you out. Move quickly.” I keep going, cell after cell, praying with each one that I might find Betsy.

Yet more fighting continues ahead of me as the soldiers deal with the remaining guards. The prisoners form a line, shaken and scared, their eyes wide with worry and hope.

As I push open the next door, I see Betsy and another lass clinging to each other in the corner.

“Betsy! It’s Callum, lass. Your pa is here to get you.”

Jacob surges past me, his expression one of relief. He is followed closely by Tim, who takes Betsy in his arms, inspecting her for injury.

“We need to leave,” Jacob says. “We have cleared out this level, but reinforcements are coming.”

“Please help Ada,” Betsy cries.

“I’ve got her,” I say, coaxing the tiny, trembling lass to her feet. She is nothing but skin and bones, with straight dark hair and haunting hazel eyes. I don’t hesitate to swing her into my arms. “We’ll get you out, Ada.”

My gut clenches with fury as I notice the bodice of her dress has been torn.

“Here,” my father says. He shucks off his cloak and drops it over her, offering her warmth and modesty.

A shout alerts us to the arrival of more guards. We hasten to leave, the ragtag group of former prisoners now with soldiers front and back. There is more fighting as we take the stairs. Reinforcements may have arrived, but Jacob and his soldiers are fast and efficient and leave only bloodied bodies on the ground. Finally, we emerge into the cold streets, using the narrow back alleys to take us from the slave markets until Jacob calls a stop.

“We’ll separate here,” Jacob says. “We have a safe house for those we’ve rescued. They will be well cared for.”

“Ada must come with us,” Betsy says. “Please, Pa. Bring her with us.”

“Fine, lass,” Tim says.

“I’ll carry her,” I say. The lass is still trembling in my arms. A surge of protectiveness fills me with the need to personally see her to a place of safety.

The other former prisoners go one way with Jacob and his men. My father, Tim, Betsy, and I, with Ada, go another, taking a long and convoluted route through the city. By the time we arrive at The Green Man, the sky has begun to lighten with the onset of dawn. As we enter the tavern, the workers are aflutter, for they have been waiting in anticipation of Tim’s return.

It is only now, as two of the women who work in the tavern bustle around to help me with the poor lass in my arms, that the enormity of what I’ve just done hits me.

“Here, let me get the young miss cleaned up,” Tim’s resident cook says. She is a matronly woman with steel gray hair and a kindly smile.

I find it hard to relinquish my hold, though, and I’m shaking as I lower Ada’s feet to the ground.

“Thank you,” Ada says, surprising me when she throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Callum.”

The emotions that stir within me are strong and multifaceted. Tears sting the back of my eyes as the cook and a kitchen helper urge her away and fuss over her. My legs cut out from under me, and I slump onto the nearest stool.

My father comes to join me, his hand squeezing over my shoulder. “You did good, lad. I’m proud of you. We got Betsy back, and we freed many others.”

“It’s not over,” Tim says, his voice rough. “I’ve yet to pay a visit to those as dared to snatch my daughter. You can bet I’ll deal with them, too.”

“Good,” my father says. “Before the Goddess, it is their due.”

Chapter Three

Callum

Two months later…

It has been a busy day at the forge. A new commission came in for pickaxes for shipping out to a distant mine. It’s simple enough work, but laborious. It is a tight timeline, and we have been working long hours.

As per usual, once we finish up for the day, my pa and I spend some time training in the old barn out the back. I work on my form using the heavy bag, go through drills, and finally spar with my pa. I’m tired after the day’s work, so tonight is a short session, but I always feel better afterward, like it clears my mind.

Money is never plentiful, but there is always food on the table. Much of what we earn is invested in the raw materials and the tools we use. We make a tidy income, enough to afford a housekeeper to ensure the home is clean and who prepares supper for us if we want it.

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