“Russia has many back roads that even cars can’t get down,” the farmer nodded in agreement with his eyes latched on to the chief of security.
Chadwick slipped of his horse with the grace of a dancer. Then his eyes traveled towards the lifeless body bathed in both blood and mud.
“It’s an American right?”
“I can’t tell,” the air’s crisp breeze swept over the two like a cold blanket. “Does someone have something against Americans out here?” Chadwick knelled closing the women’s eyes.
“Everyone has something against the Americans out here. People still fear the diseases and famine they brought.”
Chadwick grazed, expecting the bodies fallen position. “Do you know anyone who’s capable of murder? Someone who’d be acting quite strange about now?”
“Everyone’s capable of murder. And everyone acts strange around here. It’s a small town, sir.”
Chadwick titled his hat politely and spurred his horse gently, moving slowly towards the forest. “Thank you for your help,”
“Anything for the queen.”