'Whoever is that? You may come in.' Ansley said.
One of his workers entered and the smell of Ale accompanied him. It was Bolton, the drunk who had smacked Missy across the butt cheek once.
Bolton was always drinking but Ansley did not have a problem with it because Bolton was also a hard worker. Most of the profit Ansley made from his animal rearing was all thanks to Bolton.
'It is early to begin emptying bottles of Ale, Bolton.' Ansley rubbed his palm against his nose.
'It is never too early, sire.' Bolton laughed.
His laugh was hearty. It was genuine. After all, he did not have many problems in his life.
'Whatever are you here for? Has the girl, Gina, arrived?' Ansley asked.
'I have not set my eyes on her. But Tripp has sent word. He requests your presence in the South. He says you must honour his request.' Bolton looked at Ansley with pity in his eyes.
Bolton knew exactly why Tripp demanded his master's presence and so he feared for him.
