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‘Now where’s Will?’ Miribelle flicked the reins lightly against Cookie’s back, urging the pony nearer to the stable. Drawing up to the open stable doors, she peered in. She didn’t see Will about his morning tasks. Her ears brought no sound of him working in one of the stalls.
Stepping down from her cart, Miribelle led Cookie into the stable; unharnessed him, and secured him in one of the stalls. ‘Sorry,’ she said, as she latched the door. ‘You’ll have to make do with the hay for now, my dear. When I see Will I’ll have him fix you a small bag of oats.’ Cookie twitched his tail in a seemingly irritated manner. ‘You’ll survive,’ she said in a firm voice as she turned away. Miribelle heard Cookie snort as she made her way out of the stable.
Shiriff Smallburrow was in mid sentence as she pushed open the door and entered the inn. ‘.....who saw anything earlier this morning as they made their way to the Inn? Any little thing out of the ordinary on the road? Or any odd noises or goings-on heard in the night here round about? It was a mild night last night . . . any of you who slept with your windows open hear something that might help us. Think hard.’
‘What’s going on?’ she whispered to one of the local lads who stood against the wall just inside the entryway. The common room seemed all ajumble this morning. Over there, some tables had been drawn together with skillets of scrambled eggs and baskets of toast offered buffet style – how odd! And there was the Shiriff standing on one of the tables, asking questions – odder still.
The lad whispered back that Miz Cela had disappeared sometime during the night or early morning. No one knew when, really, or even why. Now that the Shiriff was here they were trying to figure out what to do.
Miribelle frowned and shook her head. What were things coming to, to have something of this sort happen? she wondered. She thanked the lad as she let her gaze drift round the room, looking for a familiar face she might invite herself to sit down with.
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