burly aproned man, who could only be master of the inn, became music to her ears.
"We will not stay long," Cole Coachman said. He brought the horses to a halt, put away his silver-mounted whip, then dropped down off the bench. "Reeve and I have the transfer of packages and letters to make. There'll also be a change of horses. Shouldn't take us longer than fifteen minutes. Perhaps less." He nodded toward the door of the small and very quaint inn. "You will find hot, sweet tea, and perhaps a sweetcake or two inside. But try not to tarry too long."
"Oh, I shan't," Marcie assured him. She was down off the bench even before he could step around and offer his assistance. Prinny rustled his feathers but made no motion to remove himself from his perch on her shoulder.
John Reeve was already making fast work of tossing down the mail bags intended for this stop. Cole Coachman, surrounded now by three ostlers, gave the order for a fresh team of horses.
Marcie, hoping to make herself useful, decided she should alert Nan and Miss Deirdre of their stop. She found the two women sound asleep in the coach.
"Psst," Marcie said, peeking her head inside the carriage door.
Nan popped one bleary eye open.
"We've time enough to stretch our legs, if you're of a mind to do so," whispered Marcie.
Nan wrinkled her pert nose, shaking her head. "La, Marcie, I was dreaming of a handsome prince." Squashed between a mountain of boxes and packages, and very happily so, she snuggled deeper into the squabs. "There is no way I will leave my dreams to venture out into the cold!"
"Not even for some hot, sweet tea?" Marcie coaxed.
"Not even," muttered Nan, falling fast asleep again.
Marcie glanced over at Miss Deirdre. That one was also fast asleep, stretched out luxuriously on the opposite seat, covered from nose to toes in a thick rug.
Marcie shrugged and quietly closed the carriage door.
"I guess it is just the two of us, Prinny," she said to the owl. With that, she headed for the door of the inn.
The building was squat and rather small. A bit rustic, too, but the lights burning inside and the sparkling ice hanging in perfect cones from its pitched roof made it appear quite inviting. Marcie no sooner reached for the latch of the door than the portal was thrust open and a behemoth of a woman stood in its frame to greet her.
"We've been waiting for your coach," said the woman in a loud, firm voice. "Expected you several hours ago. No trouble along the road, was there? No thieves to hinder your progress? No accidents?"
"Only one," said Marcie, feeling guilty as she remembered once again how Miss Deirdre's driver had run his carriage into a snowbank. "But all is well," she hastened to add. Cole Coachman had already delivered the tale of Miss Deirdre's driver to the ostlers, even while he'd commenced to oversee the change of horses. Help would soon be sent to Miss Deirdre's driver.
"Well, then, do come in, Missy. Why, your nose is as red as a cherry, and your cheeks pink. Do not tell me the handsome Cole Coachman forced you to sit atop his bench with him! The man must think everyone likes to freeze alongside him."
Marcie smiled. "I did so on my own accord, truly."
"Ah, a brave miss, are you? Good! Come, warm your bones by the fire. I got some sweetcakes warming on the stove, just the way Cole likes them to be when he passes through."
Marcie found herself being relieved of her bonnet and pelisse, gloves and tippet—but not before placing Prinny on the top rung of the hat rack near the door. The woman did not seem to think a girl with her owl was an oddity. With much fuss, the woman led Marcie toward the warm fireplace and seated her on a bench there.
Prinny, from his perch, watched with wide-eyed interest as Marcie was quickly served an entire plate of sweetcakes, as well as a mug of steaming tea. Marcie enjoyed the feast, all the while listening to the woman's chatter.
Her name was Meg, Marcie learned. She'd been born and raised at the inn,
"We will not stay long," Cole Coachman said. He brought the horses to a halt, put away his silver-mounted whip, then dropped down off the bench. "Reeve and I have the transfer of packages and letters to make. There'll also be a change of horses. Shouldn't take us longer than fifteen minutes. Perhaps less." He nodded toward the door of the small and very quaint inn. "You will find hot, sweet tea, and perhaps a sweetcake or two inside. But try not to tarry too long."
"Oh, I shan't," Marcie assured him. She was down off the bench even before he could step around and offer his assistance. Prinny rustled his feathers but made no motion to remove himself from his perch on her shoulder.
John Reeve was already making fast work of tossing down the mail bags intended for this stop. Cole Coachman, surrounded now by three ostlers, gave the order for a fresh team of horses.
Marcie, hoping to make herself useful, decided she should alert Nan and Miss Deirdre of their stop. She found the two women sound asleep in the coach.
"Psst," Marcie said, peeking her head inside the carriage door.
Nan popped one bleary eye open.
"We've time enough to stretch our legs, if you're of a mind to do so," whispered Marcie.
Nan wrinkled her pert nose, shaking her head. "La, Marcie, I was dreaming of a handsome prince." Squashed between a mountain of boxes and packages, and very happily so, she snuggled deeper into the squabs. "There is no way I will leave my dreams to venture out into the cold!"
"Not even for some hot, sweet tea?" Marcie coaxed.
"Not even," muttered Nan, falling fast asleep again.
Marcie glanced over at Miss Deirdre. That one was also fast asleep, stretched out luxuriously on the opposite seat, covered from nose to toes in a thick rug.
Marcie shrugged and quietly closed the carriage door.
"I guess it is just the two of us, Prinny," she said to the owl. With that, she headed for the door of the inn.
The building was squat and rather small. A bit rustic, too, but the lights burning inside and the sparkling ice hanging in perfect cones from its pitched roof made it appear quite inviting. Marcie no sooner reached for the latch of the door than the portal was thrust open and a behemoth of a woman stood in its frame to greet her.
"We've been waiting for your coach," said the woman in a loud, firm voice. "Expected you several hours ago. No trouble along the road, was there? No thieves to hinder your progress? No accidents?"
"Only one," said Marcie, feeling guilty as she remembered once again how Miss Deirdre's driver had run his carriage into a snowbank. "But all is well," she hastened to add. Cole Coachman had already delivered the tale of Miss Deirdre's driver to the ostlers, even while he'd commenced to oversee the change of horses. Help would soon be sent to Miss Deirdre's driver.
"Well, then, do come in, Missy. Why, your nose is as red as a cherry, and your cheeks pink. Do not tell me the handsome Cole Coachman forced you to sit atop his bench with him! The man must think everyone likes to freeze alongside him."
Marcie smiled. "I did so on my own accord, truly."
"Ah, a brave miss, are you? Good! Come, warm your bones by the fire. I got some sweetcakes warming on the stove, just the way Cole likes them to be when he passes through."
Marcie found herself being relieved of her bonnet and pelisse, gloves and tippet—but not before placing Prinny on the top rung of the hat rack near the door. The woman did not seem to think a girl with her owl was an oddity. With much fuss, the woman led Marcie toward the warm fireplace and seated her on a bench there.
Prinny, from his perch, watched with wide-eyed interest as Marcie was quickly served an entire plate of sweetcakes, as well as a mug of steaming tea. Marcie enjoyed the feast, all the while listening to the woman's chatter.
Her name was Meg, Marcie learned. She'd been born and raised at the inn,
Similar Books
