The Alpha Divorced Me, Now He Begs at My Grave novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Border Cabin

Three wagons lay burned black across the northern pass, and the snow around them was already trampled flat.

Caleb and I rode up at midday with six Larchmoor drivers who wouldn't stop shaking.

I got down in the wreckage and counted the axles myself.

Grain, winter medicine and cloth for the border posts had all gone up in one fire.

"Tarn Valley grey," one of the drivers said, and spat. "That's what they wore. The Tarn Valley men."

Caleb didn't answer him.

He crouched by a scrap of burned cloth caught in the wheel and turned it over in his glove.

"Look at the stitching," he said to me, low. "Tarn Valley closes its seams on the inside, with a double thread. This is a single thread on the outside."

"Whose is it?"

"Stonecrown quartermaster's issue. Dyed grey, badly." He stood. "Somebody wanted your drivers to see Tarn Valley, and to see me."

"Why you?"

"Because I'm standing next to you."

I folded the scrap into my glove.

"Did Alastair send them?"

"I don't know." His jaw tightened. "I'd like to say no. I can't say it with my whole chest yet."

That made two of us.

We were turning back when the sky over the ridge went dark, and the first hard flakes came sideways.

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