Chapter 12
Thomas heard Shamus returning just as breakfast was being set on the table, and went to the porch to see. The sheriff was right behind Shamus. He was a stout man with an oft-broken nose, wearing the green and black of the king’s livery, and leading a large black horse. He tied the animal to the porch, stopped outside to survey the drying blood, then grunted and mounted the steps.
“I’m William Pherson,” he said. “Sheriff of the County. I take it you are Thomas?”
“Aye.”
The man grunted again and stepped inside. He spotted George first, and looked the big man up and down. “You must be George.” He turned to Eileen, who was wrapped in blankets, a large mug of tea in her hand. “Which leaves you to be Eileen, unless Shamus got all his descriptions completely wrong.”
“He got them r
