The New Lord of the Manor (2 Jul 2001) Agatha meets Richard, a retiree recently moved to Ainington.

Danzwyck's Stables
This is a fine old New England-style house located where Miner's Road makes a right angle, two stories tall, wooden beams crossing over whitewashed walls, roofed steeply so that snow will fall off to the ground. The actual stables are behind the house, near paddocks and fenced off fields where the horses can be let out to graze and to be exercised. Miner's Road crosses the Cler River through a covered bridge called Eve's Ford, and a spur just short of that leads to the old boathouse.

The fields behind Danzwyck's Stables are wide open, grass growing lushly except along bare dirt paths which show much evidence of hoofed travel back and forth, into the trees which grow sparsely at first, then cluster into crowds of leafy-armed, green-haired onlookers. These are the "Ainigwitu", which used to be the monarchs of the forest which grew all through this area, but have been pushed back into the shadow of the nearby mountains.

With so much grass whipped by the wind, when a horse throws a shoe, it's apt to land in puddles of shadowed green or under the cover of the forest's underbrush. Hence, Ms. Danzwyck of the stables has established a bonus of 25 cents per four horseshoes brought to her, such that they can be reused ... but in Agatha's case, she's willing to part with horseshoes in payment. "Dearie me, child," she'd said back at the ranch. "Whatever do you need horseshoes for? A game, perhaps? Well, if you will do me the courtesy of bringing me back horseshoes, you may have one of each four you need."

Horseshoes are heavy, but so far Agatha has been able to find eight, which means two horseshoes, by the time that the sun is beginning to turn the tops of the trees golden. They sit in her camping backpack, which feels light without the sleeping bag attached.

Ahead, it seems to Agatha that she sees a stranger; he is shadowed by the tree against which he is sitting, a fishing pole in hand and line leading to a nearby stream, an offshoot of the Cler. A black horse grazes on the grass nearby, and a grayhoundish-looking sort of dog lolls next to him, belly to the air, paws likewise, tail making slow metronome swings.

Agatha works her way towards the fisherman, and keeps a close eye on the dog. She certainly doesn't expect any trouble out here, but would like to get a closer look at the horse in any case. "Ho there!" she calls when she thinks she's close enough for the man to hear her clearly.

The man looks up a bit. "Good afternoon, miss," he calls back. Now that Agatha's a little closer, she can see he's an old man, with a thick, full beard of white and a balding pate, and dressed for cool weather. The shade doubtlessly makes this a good idea, though it's much warmer outside of the trees.

The horse bears a saddle and reins, but is at the moment cropping grass contentedly.

"Any bites today?" the girl asks conversationally as she gets closer, and looks over the horse's saddle to see if it has the Danzwyck brand on it -- though why someone would rent a horse just to go fishing puzzles her.

The man sways the tip of his rod just slightly, letting the line move freely through the water as it would not if there were a fish nibbling on the other end. "Can't say as I've had any, miss," he says.

The horse does not appear to have a brand on it. It glances back at Agatha with a dark brown eye that appears lazy and well contented.

The dog yawns, then rolls over onto its tummy. Grass lightly stains its flanks.

"I'm Agatha," the girl says, introducing herself. "I'm looking for thrown shoes for the Danzwycks. You a friend of theirs?" And has your horse been wandering around in the woods lately? she silently wonders.

"Ah, the Danzwycks? Good people; they know how to take care of their horses, from what I saw. They said this was a good place to go fishing," the man says. "Call me Richard." The question goes unanswered, being silent.

The horse looks up for a moment toward Agatha, as if examining her, before moving on to a fresh patch of grass and dipping its head down again. It's rather large; could be an Arabian from the fineness of its head and lines.

"Well, nice to meet you then, Richard," Agatha says, standing just beyond the shade provided by the tree and giving the underbrush an inspection. You can never tell where a shoe might be hiding, after all. "I guess you don't stable with them then? Got your own place around here? Your horse looks like he'd want lots of room."

Richard nods slowly. "Yes, I'm new to the town. Thought it was time to retire, take life easy for a while..." He gestures with his pole, causing a red bob to momentarily burble in the water. "I picked up the old Harcourt Manor. It was what the man selling it called a 'fixer upper', I do believe. Having seen it, I can believe it." He snorts. "Ah well, it gives me something to do, and at least the roof doesn't leak."

Agatha has seen the place, a grand old Victorian house off of Webber Way. It used to be popularly considered a haunted house, since no one lived there and its appearance lent itself readily to such tales. Kids would dare one another to stay a night during a thunderstorm without running in terror.

"I heard that place was haunted," Agatha jokes. "You ride your horse all the way across town then?"

Richard furrows his eyebrows. "Haunted? Can't say as I've noticed anything out of the unusual. As far as riding goes, well, no. I cut around..." He gestures in the general direction of the south, and to the best of Agatha's recollection, it would indeed be possible to circumnavigate three quarters of the town's perimeter by horse without taking the inner streets.

The horse moves on again, then snuffles in the direction of the undergrowth where Agatha had previously looked unsuccessfully for a horseshoe. It whickers.

"I don't suppose your horse wandered off last weekend?" Agatha asks, unsure how else to get around to the subject. "Some people saw a big black horse in the woods behind the hill northeast of here a bit."

"Did they?" Richard asks with curiosity.

"Uh, yeah," Agatha answers, not expecting the man to be curious about it. "Running through the woods ... maybe chasing another animal," she adds, and gives the greyhound another glance.

The horse whinnies a bit, turning its nose toward Agatha, then resumes cropping grass.

"What's that, Destre?" Richard says. He listens a bit, then chuckles. "Destre says you ought to look there again. As for runabout horses, well, I suppose it could have been Destre. He's clever, he is, or else the latch on his pen doesn't work as well as it should. What sort of animal would this horse of yours have been chasing?"

Agatha moves a little closer, into the shade, and looks through the underbrush again. "Oh, maybe a bobcat or a dog. Something that growled," she says, and also tries to get a look at Destre's shoes.

There it is: a horseshoe, an old specimen that has rust and some dirt covering it. It's been out here a while, then.

Destre's shoes look shiny, as if freshly forged. Richard glances without concern at Agatha's inspection, and then says, "Well, good for him, then. Was anyone hurt, Agatha?"

Smiling, Agatha picks up the shoe and looks it over, momentarily forgetting that Richard said the horse told him about it. The old guy probably noticed it himself earlier, and was just playing with her, she decides. "A little girl got some scrapes, but not from any animals," she says, and adds the shoe to her collection. "You aren't trying to fix up that old house all by yourself, are you, Richard?" It feels a little weird addressing a grownup by his first name.

Richard nods. "I suppose if there is any heavy moving to be done, I'll hire a man or two and have them come in for a few days, I'm told there are plenty of people in town handy with tools," he says. "A little girl?"

"Yeah, she got startled by the growling and rolled down the hill a bit, before the horse showed up and chased off whatever it was," Agatha says. "I bet there are lots of kids at my school that'd be willing to help clean out the weeds and stuff from the garden, maybe repaint the fences and all once summer break comes. My brother is good with fixing up woodwork and stuff too, if you have any rot or loose shutters or jammed doors."

This appears to draw a bit of a startled look from Richard, both the mention of growling and the suggestion of hiring kids. "Well, well." He seems to be considering this, as he lets the line trail farther in the stream.

Agatha rummages in her jacket pocket, and pulls up a bit of carrot and a sugar cube (she likes to be prepared when she comes to the stables, after all) and offers it to Destre. "The girl thought it was a unicorn, but I don't think a unicorn would wear iron shoes," she says, more to the horse than to Richard.

Destre snuffles interestedly at the offerings, then lips them up and crunches on the carrot. He whinnies at Agatha and seems to be asking for more.

Richard looks curiously toward her from mid-thought. "Is she the fanciful sort, then, Agatha?"

"I ... I suppose so," Agatha answers, not sounding particularly sure of herself. She saw the odd hoof print herself, after all. From a pocket of her backpack, she removes a paper bag with her snacks in it and offers Destre some dried apple slices from it. "I mean, she's only eleven," she adds, speaking from the ripe old age of thirteen.

Destre munches, then whickers. Richard translates, "Destre says you're generous and good-hearted, and if there's anything you ever need, just call him." He chuckles. "Horses, they're such simple souls, aren't they? Well, I've never seen a unicorn to wear shoes, myself, Agatha, but I'll be sure to let you know if I see one that does. I will warn you though, you ought to keep little girls well away from strange animals. A great many of them are known to bite first, introduce themselves afterward -- especially if she is the sort to mistake horses for unicorns."

Agatha pats Destre on side of his neck, and nods. "I'll look out for her. Maybe I could bring her around to see Destre sometime, if that's okay with you? She doesn't ride or anything, but I bet she'd find him impressive."

"Hmmm, I can't say that I want many kids around my house," Richard says slowly. "It could be dangerous. There's a lot of rotten wood that needs to be replaced. But you may bring her, if I am in."

The greyhound yawns widely, exposing a great many little teeth, though not more than is usual for a dog. He smacks his lips and glances toward Agatha incuriously.

"I'll make sure to check ahead then," Agatha says, grinning. "We'd probably just stay on the other side of the fence anyway. Does your dog have a name?"

"Kuon, which means 'brave'," Richard says. The dog seems not inclined to do anything of import at the moment, and hence there is little opportunity to test whether this is a misnomer in the way big men are sometimes called "Tiny".

"What language is that from?" Agatha asks curiously. She almost approaches the dog, but ... well, she doesn't trust dogs as much as horses, and doesn't have anything to give it as a treat either.

"It's, ah ... a very old name my family uses for dogs," Richard says. He looks at the line again, testing it, and this time there is a nibble, judging from the way the line is circling about in the water. He starts playing the line, to get the hook set.

Agatha looks at the position of the sun, and figures she should start working her way back along the path towards the stables if she's going to be home in time to help with dinner. Still, she waits to see if the man will bring in the fish or not, and wonders what he did before he retired.

Destre, seeing no more treats are forthcoming, resumes cropping the grass. Kuon gets up and trots to the edge of the stream and proceeds to bark loudly at the fish. Meanwhile, Richard lets the line out a little more, tests it ... then starts trying to pull the fish in. "Gracious! A strong one," he says. There is no answer to the wondering, which went unvoiced.

"Need any help?" Agatha offers, looking towards the tackle box to see if Richard has a net handy.

"That'd be good of you," Richard says, straining a bit. The tip of the pole is bending, but it doesn't seem close to snapping yet.

Agatha sets down her pack and come over to the man's side, picking up the net to snag the fish once it's out of the water - something that having a long reach helps with quite a bit.

Kuon barks at the water some more, though whether this might help to disconcert the fish is uncertain. Destre eyes the whole struggle with a slightly interested eye.

With a grunt, Richard manages to pull the fish close to the surface, and Agatha can make out its silvery-scaled side, and fins beating vigorously, tail thrashing, to keep it under the water. Trout, evidently.

Kneeling on the bank, Agatha reaches out as far as she can with the net, and manages to scoop it under the fish without losing her balance. She drags it up and back towards the shore, so that it's out of the water enough to ease the strain on the pole.

"Ah! Neatly done, by the Word," Richard says, pleased with Agatha's adept capture. "I suppose that I'll have to try cooking fish for dinner tonight, then." With a slight pause, he adds, "You mentioned your brother did woodworking?"

Agatha nods, once the fish is landed. "He wants to be a carpenter, but right now he's good at mending and making small parts, staining and so on. He restores old donated furniture for the church auctions too, sometimes." Noticing that the tackle box is one from the local store, Jim's Fishing and Sport Shop, she asks, "Ever cleaned a fish before?"

"I can't say as I have, though I was told how it was done," Richard says. "Have you?"

"My dad showed me how," Agatha says. "We camp up at the lake in summer, and sometimes he manages to catch something. Uses peanut-butter for bait, but I don't know if that makes a difference. Can't really help you with the cooking part though, since I've only ever done that over a campfire."

"Oh, I'll handle that, but as I understand it, you need a knife like this..." Richard reaches into the tackle box and picks out a filleting knife, then offers it to Agatha.

Agatha takes the knife with a smile. "There should be some butcher paper in your kit I think. Gotta wrap the guts up too, since we don't want predators getting interested in this area." That said, she lifts the fish by its gills and slices the belly open with the knife.

Richard watches interestedly. "I take it you camp out a lot, Agatha?"

"A few times a year usually, for overnight, but in the summer we take a few days to go to the lake," Agatha says as she separates the entrails, head and tail of the fish on the paper, then fillets the body down the spine into two large slices. "Do you camp too, or is that maybe something you're looking forward to ... like fishing?"

"It's... Yes, that's a good way to describe it," Richard says. "I thank you for your kindness."

Once the cutting is done, Agatha washes off her hands and the knife in the water. "Oh, it's no trouble! Besides, you're new to the neighborhood and all, and you've got a nice horse too."

Destre whickers, and Richard chuckles. "I think that Destre is right when he said that you had a good heart. Well, if your brother needs work this summer, he is welcome to see me."

Kuon snuffs curiously at the paper.

Agatha grins and wraps up the fish before the dog can snatch anything. "Fish heads aren't good for doggies, Kuon," she says. To Richard, she comments, "If you can, you should grind up the head and guts for your garden. If you just throw them out or bury them, you'll attract raccoons, and you probably already had to evict a few as it is."

Richard laughs. "Now that you mention it, yes, I had noticed a few of the beasties. They are little thieves, are they not?"

Kuon wags his tail and looks up at Agatha.

"Normally, yeah, but I bet you didn't find any mice or rats or other vermin with them around," Agatha says with a giggle. "You probably won't have trouble though with Kuon around, but you should probably stock up on lots of tomato juice when you get a chance, because I guarantee he'll run into a skunk before he knows better, if he's never run into one before anyway." She packs the bundled fish into the tackle box where the dog can't get to it.

Richard nods. "Sagacious advice indeed, my dear Agatha," he says, and smiles. "Well, it seems to me that I should be heading home then, and you should as well, if I judge the sun's angle right. It has been a pleasure to meet you."

Agatha stands and brushes some dirt from the knees of her jeans before collecting her backpack. "Yeah, I gotta drop off these shoes! I'll let my brother know to come see you too. Oh, and welcome to Ainigton!" she says in a rush.

Richard offers his hand to Agatha. "I believe this is the custom?"

Agatha laughs and shakes the man's hand. "Yup! I think you'll fit in fine here."

Richard smiles. "Take care, Agatha!" He picks up the tackle-box and fishing pole, securing the line, and Kuon scampers to his heel quite readily.

Agatha waves to the man and his companions, then starts jogging along the path back towards the stables. So, the old castle has a new master! He talks like a teacher, but the manor couldn't have been cheap even run down like that. Maybe he's a wizard? That'd be a kick! she thinks, before turning her mind to more mundane matters like schoolwork and friends.

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