Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6) Read online

  Gabrielle hugged the horse’s neck to shift and slid a little. “I should have expected your ego would never allow your good deeds to go unnoticed.”

  “Hmph,” Puss said.

  The two didn’t speak again until they paraded up to Wied.

  Gabrielle’s estimation of the situation was correct. The reek of ash and cinders reached them before they could see any of the buildings, and plumes of smoke hovered in anxious clouds. When they rode closer, she could see that four stores had been burned, a number of doors were smashed or missing, and debris and ruined goods littered the street.

  When Puss, Gabrielle, and their parade of animals trooped into the village, everyone stopped to stare.

  They ended their animal procession the middle of the village, and a small crowd assembled around them.

  Gabrielle shifted, uncomfortable with the attention and fixed stares. “I brought back your animals,” she said to her audience.

  “I brought back your animals? Is that the best you can do?” Puss hissed before he leaped to sit on an ox’s broad back, scattering the chickens. “I beg your pardon, kind townsfolk, for my beautiful mistress is too humble to continue. I, Roland Archibald Whisperpaws the Fifth, shall explain matters plainly to you. My mistress—the dazzlingly beautiful Lady Gabrielle—and I encountered a group of the most dastardly bandits. Using my magic and the cunning of my mistress, we outsmarted the fiends and found their treasure trove. As my mistress has a generous, giving heart, we thought to return your plundered goods to aid you brave and valiant villagers of Wied. We bring you your animals, your treasures, and word of the deviants who have wreaked such villainy upon you.”

  All was quiet for a moment, with the exception of the chickens who clucked and scratched in the ground. After several tense moments, the villagers broke into applause, startling their animals and filling the air with joyful cheers.

  Gabrielle almost fell off the horse’s back as he danced a few steps and tossed his head. She was clinging to his neck when Puss jumped back on the gelding.

  “And I didn’t even use the word hero,” he said, sounding smug.

  “That’s because we’re not heroes,” Gabrielle said.

  The villagers surged forward, reclaiming their animals and items with big smiles and hearty laughter. None of them blinked twice at a talking cat, nor did they seem to notice her great beauty. They were too overwhelmed and overjoyed.

  Gabrielle slipped awkwardly off her mount’s back, staggering a few steps. She brushed horse hair from her skirts and looked around, expecting the horse’s owner to step forward from the mass. She was surprised when a tall, string bean of a woman stood next to her. “You’ll not find Glossy’s owner here,” she said. “He belongs to the constable, and he left this morning by mule-back to report our troubles to Castle Brandis.”

  “I see,” Gabrielle said, glancing over at Puss—still seated on the horse’s rump. “Thank you.”

  “My name is Lena. My husband, Jakob, and I run Green Ivy Inn,” the woman said, pointing to a homey, two-story building down the street. It was untouched by fire—although the front door was busted down. “It would please and honor us if you and your unusual cat stayed at the inn with us.”

  “I couldn’t—” Gabrielle started, looking at Puss for help.

  “I insist. The chickens you brought back belong to my family. We are much in your debt,” Lena said.

  “Oh, you don’t—”

  “Wied is a small village, my lady, but we are thankful and proud. It would be a sad day if we could offer nothing in return for your generous and brave deeds.”

  “Really, it was—”

  Lena ignored her protests and called her husband over. “Jakob. Would it not be natural for Lady Gabrielle and her gifted cat to stay with us?”

  “I’m not a lady,” Gabrielle said and was still ignored.

  Jakob was a short, bulldog of a man with a joyful, childlike smile. “That is a wonderful idea, my dear. Yes, I agree. You must stay with us, Lady Gabrielle—and don’t you even think about paying us even a copper. Wied owes you much,” Jakob said, shaking a thick finger.

  “But, I—” Gabrielle said.

  “What room shall she have?” Lena asked, verbally leading her husband on. “She is the village savior.”

  “The ivy room, of course,” Jakob said, nodding sagely. “Only the best for such an honored guest.”

  “Well chosen,” Lena said.

  “I could never think to—” Gabrielle tried.

  “But you will,” Lena said, which is how—less than twenty minutes later—Gabrielle found herself seated at a table in the Green Ivy Inn with a bowl of spaetzle stew and a plate of sweet rolls. She stared at the bowl before shifting her gaze to her feline companion, who was in the process of consuming a small plate of scrambled eggs. “How did this happen?” she asked.

  “You lacked the spine to refuse an innkeeper and his wife. That is how,” Puss said, licking his chops.

  “You make it sound so simple. That woman is a mountain cat,” Gabrielle hissed, glancing around the room. They were the only ones in the taproom, but Lena was back in the kitchen.

  “Yes,” Puss agreed.

  “And why didn’t you help me? You could have opposed her.”

  Puss consumed more eggs. “Perhaps, but I did tell you we would require no coin to travel comfortably.”

  “Puss, we can’t accept this. This village was just sacked by bandits!”

  “Don’t call me that. My name is Roland Archibald Whisperpaws the Fifth. And thanks to you, all they have to show for their trouble is a few burned buildings and some heavy clean-up. You returned their animals and coin to them, Gabrielle. You said yourself it would save them much heartache,” Puss said.

  “I know, but this feels wrong. We didn’t do enough to warrant this,” Gabrielle said as she took a spoonful of the stew. The spicy dish was decadent, and the spaetzle—dumpling-like egg noodles—fresh and tasty.

  “Speak for yourself. You defeated two bandits. I took out seven.”

  “Four. The two tipsy men and the one already sleeping don’t count,” she said.

  “I still had to work my charm on them, didn’t I?”

  “And I still had to tie them up.”

  “Now who is so eager to trumpet her good deeds?”

  Gabrielle propped her head upon her hand and stirred her stew with a frown.

  “I don’t understand you. You were angry with your parents because they would not help you, but now you are steeped in guilt because the villagers are thankful,” Puss said.

  “That is an unfair comparison. My parents are fine. The mill has been doing well, and we haven’t been attacked by bandits in years. Wied was ransacked last night. It’s not the same thing.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. I only see that you have a very defined and complicated sense of justice. If you insist on indulging in the feeling of guilt, go help them.” Puss finished the last of his eggs.

  “What?” Gabrielle said, nibbling at her stew. Although it was delicious, it sat in her stomach like rocks.

  Puss licked a paw and scrubbed at his face. “Go aid in the cleanup. There are several hours of daylight left, and the villagers are hard at work cleaning up the debris. Help them.”

  Gabrielle scraped her wooden spoon on the bottom of her bowl. “Maybe I will.”

  “Good.”

  Gabrielle was scooping the last bit of stew out of her bowl with a roll when Lena reappeared. “Would you like more stew—or more eggs?” She looked back and forth between the pair.

  Gabrielle swallowed wrong and shook her head. She coughed and drank a slug of the apple cider Lena had insisted on giving her.

  “If you will forgive my inquiries, where is our fine host?” Puss asked.

  “Jakob has gone with a band of the village men to look into the bandit hideout. They intend to bring the bandits back here so they can be sent to Castle Brandis for a trial,” Lena said with a cheerf
ul smile before she turned her attention to Gabrielle. “How many honey cakes would you like?”

  “Honey cakes?” Puss asked, sounding intrigued.

  “None!” Gabrielle was quick to say.

  Lena pursed her lips together in a sign of disagreement. “None?”

  “None. Puss and I were just going to see if we, uh, could help with the repairs and clean up.”

  “It is unnecessary. By returning our animals to us, you have done more than enough,” Lena said, one of her eyebrows quirking.

  “Oh, no,” Gabrielle said, scooping Puss up and staggering to the door. “We insist. Puss loves showing off his abilities. It is our pleasure.” Gabrielle almost tripped over her feet under the plain but formidable woman’s gaze. She felt like a trapped rabbit. She had to flee, or soon Lena would be bathing her in cow’s milk and pouring for her their finest cask of wine!

  “If you wish,” Lena said, the tone of her voice clearly communicating that she expected to stuff Gabrielle with honey cakes at a later time. “But at least allow me to send my daughter with you. She would gladly act as your guide. Annika!”

  A little girl of eight or nine scurried out of the kitchens. She stared at Gabrielle and Puss as if they were princes mounted on white stallions, but she was eventually able to rip her gaze from them and look to her mother.

  “Lady Gabrielle and honorable cat, this is Annika, my youngest child.”

  Much less intimidated by the child than by the iron-spined mother, Gabrielle smiled at the little girl. “Hello, Annika,” she said.

  Annika’s mouth dropped open, and she gaped at Gabrielle until her mother twisted her around to face her. “Take our honored guests to the cooper’s, and if you see Gert, tell him to come home—the goats need milking.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Annika cheeped like a little wren.

  “Off you go,” Lena said, affectionately brushing her daughter’s cheek and nudging her in Gabrielle’s direction.

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle said to Lena before she darted out of the door, breathing easier in the smoky-scented streets. “You’re walking,” she said to Puss, dropping him on the ground.

  “Ingrate.” Puss twitched his tail from side to side and sidled away from Annika. The little girl was rubbing her hands together, as if trying to resist picking him up.

  “Your mother said to take us to the cooper?” Gabrielle said after several moments of silence.

  “Yes! Right this way, your grace,” Annika said, trotting down the street.

  Gabrielle grimaced at the title but followed her petite guide through the village, stopping just outside a charred storefront.

  Several young men stood there, conversing around one of the weight-bearing beams of the store. They fell quiet as Gabrielle and her guide approached.

  “Lady Gabrielle, what can we do for you?” asked a man who couldn’t have been much older than Gabrielle.

  “It’s just Gabrielle.” She raised her shoulder several inches as she warily eyed the men. “I was wondering what I could do to help.”

  “Help? You’ve helped us plenty already, my lady,” another of the young men said, offering her a kind smile.

  Gabrielle swept her eyes across the group, watching for a smirk or a leer. She detected nothing. “Perhaps, but I am staying the night at Lena’s insistence, and I don’t like to be idle,” she said.

  One of the young men—the first one who greeted her—released a hee-haw of laughter. “Lena’s pushing you around, is she?”

  “Hartwin!” Annika said in her shrill little voice. “Don’t you insult my mother!”

  The man, Hartwin, playfully stuck his tongue out at the little girl. “My sister is about, Annika, if you’re looking for something to do.”

  “I’m not. I’m Lady Gabrielle’s guide,” Annika said, puffing out her chest.

  “Ho-ho! How the meek have been elevated,” another young man chuckled.

  “If it pleases you, my lady, I was about to begin repairing some of the doors. I could use assistance, if you are not opposed,” Hartwin said, returning his attention to Gabrielle.

  “Not at all,” Gabrielle said. “What do I do?”

  “Why do you keep looking about as if you fear Baba Yaga will jump out from the shadows of a building?” Puss asked, curled up in a patch of sunlight as Gabrielle nailed crude hinges onto finished doors.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Gabrielle smacked a nail with a hammer.

  “Liar,” Puss said. He yawned, flashing his white teeth. “You leap at every odd noise. What is wrong?”

  Gabrielle set aside her hammer for a moment and looked down the street. Villagers were helping one another—setting doors, replacing siding, sweeping up debris. Their faces were tight, but they still laughed and told jokes. Any who noticed Gabrielle watching waved or smiled. “It’s very…odd.”

  “What?”

  “No one seems to dislike me,” Gabrielle said.

  “Dislike you? Why would they do such an asinine thing? You restored their belongings to them.”

  “Yes, but, I’m still…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m still beautiful,” Gabrielle said.

  Puss chuffed. “And you accuse me of having a large ego? There is a phrase about a pot and a kettle that I feel would be quite appropriate here, if only there were a kettle worthy of being compared to the likes of me.”

  “My entire life I have been hated and liked too much because I’m beautiful. I abhor the way I look. It has wreaked havoc on my life. Whenever I cross paths with women they despise me, and men I would rather avoid pursue me relentlessly. There is nothing good about the way I look! But these people…they’re friendly. I haven’t heard one snide comment, and no one has made any advances, or inappropriate comments, or touches.”

  “What do you expect, Gabrielle? You’re a hero to them.”

  Gabrielle waved the hammer in Puss’s direction. “I am not a hero.”

  “Oh, very well. You are a champion, a rescuer. The point is you have done nothing but help them. Why would they spurn you?” Puss tucked his paws under his chest.

  “If that’s the case, why did everyone in Ilz treat me so poorly?” Gabrielle hammered a nail in with more force than necessary.

  “Did you do anything to make them look favorably upon you?” Puss asked.

  “What?”

  “You seem to require that I frequently repeat myself. As I previously stated, you have aided the villagers of Wied. What about those belonging to your hometown? Did you ever save their animals or their coin?”

  Gabrielle was silent.

  “What about something smaller? Did you help anyone repair their doors? Hm? You didn’t.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Gabrielle said.

  “It isn’t,” Puss agreed. “Kindness should be extended to all. But if you embraced your status as a hated woman and did nothing to change anyone’s mind, you must admit there is a chance things could have played out differently. The villagers of Wied are gracious to you because they believe you are kind and valiant to the point where it outshines your beauty. Your looks are the icing on an already delectable cake—you are their storybook hero. I wager if you acted similarly to all you meet, none would be able to refuse you whatever you ask.”

  “You are hatefully smug,” Gabrielle grumbled.

  “It is the price one pays for being so intelligent and superior,” Puss said, his voice saturated with glee.

  Gabrielle shook her head and pounded another nail in. When she looked up, she saw Annika and another little girl—Hartwin’s sister, most likely—staring at Puss with longing.

  An oversized smirk crawled across Gabrielle’s lips, and she said, in her most inviting voice, “You may play with Puss and pick him up. He loves to be petted.”

  “What?” Puss said, twisting around, but he was too late. Within moments, Annika and her little friend swooped in and picked him up.

  Puss’s ears went flat as the girls stroked his glossy fur with dirty hands and spok
e to him in pleasant, high-pitched voices. “Traitor,” Puss growled at Gabrielle.

  “It would be selfish of me to keep you all to myself, Puss,” Gabrielle said before speaking to the girls. “I left my burlap sack in the taproom of the Green Ivy Inn.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Puss said, a hint of a wail edging his voice.

  “If you look inside, you will find a pair of boots. They belong to Puss—he does enjoy dressing up,” Gabrielle continued.

  “I do not!” Puss yowled.

  “Thank you, Lady Gabrielle,” Annika’s friend said.

  “I say—unhand me and put me down!” Puss demanded as the little girls carried him off.

  Gabrielle chuckled to herself and pounded another nail in. He’s a good sport, in spite of his loud complaints. If he wasn’t gentle and soft-hearted he could use his sleep charm on them.

  “Are you certain it is alright for my sister and little Annika to play with your magic cat?” Hartwin asked as he approached Gabrielle, carrying another door.

  “It will be good for him,” Gabrielle said, her self-satisfied grin still smeared on her lips.

  Hartwin laughed. “I am glad such an act brings joy to you. I feared you were beginning to regret involving yourself with our silly village.”

  “What? No, never,” Gabrielle said.

  Hartwin shrugged. “There is no shame in admitting it. Wied is but a small village. I’m sure you have seen much bigger settlements, my lady.”

  Wied, in fact, was the biggest village Gabrielle had ever seen. Feeling like a bit of a fraud, Gabrielle flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’m not a lady. I know my cat said I was, but I’m not.”

  “Maybe you have not inherited such a title, but I feel that your actions make you worthy of it all the same,” Hartwin said. “That, and perhaps the addition of a talking cat at your side.”

  Gabrielle pounded in the last nail. “Puss belongs with someone better.”

  “And yet he chooses to travel with you and calls you his mistress. Have you finished that door?”