Fred Dobson looked down at Adam. He’d been the first one on the scene when Adam’s wife had died, and he knew that Adam had never recovered from the loss of her and the baby she had been carrying. He’d lost his best friend that day, as grief had turned Adam into a different man: bitter and angry with the world. However, looking and listening to him now, Fred hoped that he had finally found peace.
‘Now Archie Robinson tells me that these two sheep are marked on their horns, underneath their ears, with a dot of red paint. So if they are on the Baxters’ property, they should be easy to find. This might be the excuse we’ve needed to raid their farm. It’s the first time one of the Baxters has actually been seen thieving, so I’m grateful you are still alive to tell the tale.’
‘It seems I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this time I might be doing my neighbours a favour, if you catch this family, who seem to be wreaking havoc on most of my neighbours. This used to be a quiet part of the world, unlike Keighley town.’ Adam looked at his old friend.
‘Things have changed. New folk have come to our patch, and industries have sprung up and, with them, a different sort of folk. There’s no knowing who’s who or what they are nowadays – not like the days when we were lads. Anyway, you are forgetting all the times you used to have to square up that lad from the parsonage at Haworth and deliver him back to his poor father and sisters. There’s always one, and you should know it.’ Fred smiled.
‘He was just wild, rebelling against his father. I could understand that.’ Adam looked down at his hands and knew that at one time Fred had been aware of his own rebellious nature, and that Adam too had fought against his father’s wishes.
‘Aye, well, we are all different, and we all learn the hard way. Now I’ll send my lads to look around the Baxters’ farm at High Ground. If we find anything, I’ll let you know. If we do find your sheep, the Baxters are looking at a few years’ hard labour or even being deported to Australia, depending on the judge.’ Fred stood up. ‘That seems to be the favourite thing at the moment: send the buggers out to the colonies and make them work for their freedom. A ten-year-old lad got sent to Australia on a convict ship the other month from Keighley, and he’d only pickpocketed a handkerchief. So with a bit of luck, you’ll get rid of Jacob at least, as the judge will show no mercy if your sheep are found there.’ He pulled on his helmet and watched as Lucy opened the kitchen door for him. ‘You take care, old friend. Let this slip of a lass look after you until you are back on your feet.’
‘I already owe her everything. Lucy here saved my life.’ Adam smiled across at her. ‘I’d be lost without her,’ he whispered, as he closed his eyes and relaxed in his usual chair next to the fire.
‘Well, you have a lot to be thankful for, and don’t you forget it,’ Fred said to him. ‘Miss, you keep looking after him. You are just what the stubborn bugger needs.’
‘If anybody can catch the Baxters, Fred can. He used to be a right stickler, when we worked together,’ Adam said to Lucy, with his eyes still closed. It had been good to see Fred, even if the circumstances were not what he would have wanted.
‘We’ll see. It would be an answer to a lot of people’s prayers if the Baxters were brought to justice – especially Jacob and his father. The other brothers aren’t quite as bad. But don’t you worry your head about them. Concentrate on getting better. We need you fit and strong, as it will soon be summer and there will be plenty of work to keep you out of mischief then.’
Lucy gazed at Adam as he slept. If only he knew how she felt about him, it would perhaps make all the difference to his life.
Sergeant Fred Dobson stood in the kitchen of High Ground. All five sons of Robert Baxter were sitting around the kitchen table, with their father at the head of it. The kitchen was low and dark, with no love and attention spent on it since the motherless family had moved into the farmhouse more than five years ago. Police constables stood around the room, and waited for instructions from their sergeant to handcuff the lot of them and place them in the police cart that was waiting for them outside.
‘Those sheep are nowt to do with us – they must have strayed onto our land. There always have been gaps in the walls. That pillock of a neighbour should keep his house in order,’ Robert Baxter scowled and spat out at Fred.
‘And your Jacob here, I suppose, was nowhere near Black Moss when a lamb and he miraculously jumped over the wall and left Adam Brooksbank sinking to his near-death in the mire,’ Fred scoffed. ‘Don’t you lie to me, you old bugger. Besides, it’s not just Adam Brooksbank’s sheep. There’s stuff in your barn and outbuildings that’s gone missing from all over the district. Not to mention the coins found in your back place, which are counterfeit, made by clipping small amounts of metal from already issued coins. I suppose they appeared by magic. You and yours are looking at a
