The common room of the tavern is packed with the noon meal crowd. Tradesmen and travelers make up most of the Squawking Gooses’ clientele. A few farmers are scattered about, those who are in town for one reason or another.

A tirade is in progress over by the bar, a woman is telling her man off in rare form. Apparently she’s the wife of the proprietor, the man being the proprietor himself. He looks as though he’s taking it with a grain of salt, simply letting her run out of steam while he waits patiently.

A man over to one side sitting at a table near a window has been watching the spectacle from the beginning. He’s not sure just what started it but it has at least been a distraction while he awaits the others who are to meet him here. Several hours overdue, his impatience is steadily growing into anger.

No sooner does the woman stop explaining to the man how stupid and ignorant he is, then she turns and stalks through the door leading into the kitchen area. The look on the proprietor’s face is one of relief and the man wonders how he puts up with such behavior from a woman. Shaking his head, the man glances out the window. “Finally!” he breathes under his breath as the two men whom he’s been waiting for ride up the street toward the inn.

Remaining in his seat, he watches as the men approach and then come to a stop where the other horses are secured to the rail outside. Dismounting, they secure their steeds to the rail and make their way into the inn.

One is rather tall, easily half a head taller than any of the other patrons in the common room. Red haired with a trim beard, he looks as though he’s seen his share of conflict if the numerous scars on the exposed portions of his body are any indication. The other man only comes to his shoulders, flaxen hair and carrying himself with confidence. Neither are ones you would want to run into alone in a dark alley.