CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We left the busy March and turned onto the driveway. The scent of freshly cut grass filled my nostrils and the shade from the green sycamore leaves cast an appreciated coolness over us. Ferox soon drew us into the large yard in front of the house and parked us near the door.
Ben was just helping me down when a man strolled out of the large stables some fifty yards away. He wore dirty coveralls and heavy boots, and a large-brimmed straw hat covered his head. The man appeared to be about fifty, and behind him came a lad of ten who was a miniature version of himself down to the poop on the front of his coveralls.
“Good afternoon, Your Excellency!” the man shouted.
Ben turned and his face brightened. “Good afternoon, Lambert! You seem to have an eager companion with
