"That was the plan. But she would be expecting a red pied bull, you see, with a bill of sale. This seems to be a black bull of uncertain origin."

"Hmm," Barton said, pursing his wide mouth. "So it does, sir."

"Quite."

"I didn't steal 'im, sir! I found him."

"We aren't going to argue the point with a constable, Barton. We're getting myself and my fellow fugitive here out of sight before anyone searches the premises."

"Yes, sir." Barton grabbed the lead attached to the bull's nose ring. "I know a way round the lane to the millpond. We can walk him down the stream and tie him up. Come along, old fellow." He clucked to the bull. "Toby, get him!"

At Barton's voice, the dog barked and nipped at the animal's heels. The bull turned its head and gave a half hearted kick, but appeared to find the dog no more persuasive than a large f ly. It blew a gust of air and lowered its nose, taking up another mouthful of hay.

"Quiet!" Trev snapped, as Toby began to bark and growl. "Do you want to advertise us to the whole county? Move along, you beast!" He picked up a pitchfork and waved the handle at the enormous bull. He'd seen drovers in the army hustling their animals along with staffs.

The bull blinked at him, all four feet planted solidly amid the hay, its jaw working in unhurried rhythm.

"Come along," Trev said in exasperation, bran dishing the fork. "What's your name? Hubert. Hyah, Hubert!"

The animal turned fully at the sound of its name. With slow majesty, it lifted one hoof and then another, ignoring the pitchfork and ambling toward Trev. It lifted its massive nose to snuff le at his clothes, as if searching for something in his neck cloth. It was purported to be a shorthorn bull, but Trev could have sworn that the tips of its horns were as wide as his arm-span.

Trev backed away. The bull followed. "Hubert," he said, walking backward toward the gate. Hubert moved faster after him, deliberate now, his great hooves thumping in the dirt. He made a low sound, a sort of groaning, smothered bellow that made the hair rise on Trev's neck. He hoped to the devil that the thing didn't decide to charge.

"Hubert !" Callie pulled her horse to a halt in the middle of the lane. Major Sturgeon came up behind her. She waved at him to stop, straining her ears to hear over the sound of the horses and her own breath. She could have sworn that she'd caught Hubert's distinctive bellow, a deep rumbling sound almost below hearing.

They had just passed Dove House. The garden gate was ajar, and the front door stood open. She had not forgot Trev, but the strange encounter in the night seemed so far from reality that today she was hardly certain it had even taken place.