Safety Assured Leaving East of Medicetti Page 2

Early in the morning of the 34th Day of Planting Season, 338, Mahrree stepped out on to her front porch to witness her last sunrise in Edge.

  There are a handful of days in a person’s life that start out seemingly benign, then dislodge and uproot and toss aside everything you thought your life was. Usually such days involve a birth, or an unexpected death, or a sharp twist in one’s future, and the color of everything suddenly shifts.

  Yesterday was one of those days.

  At the beginning of it, she’d been nearly vibrating with the idea that she and Perrin and Peto would be sneaking away in Weeding Season to find Terryp’s land themselves, because Perrin had secretly possessed, during all of these years, the very map of the very historian she’d admired more than anyone.

  Then, her daughter started feeling birthing pains, and the day was spent timing and watching and, ultimately, comforting Jaytsy when her baby decided the 33rd day wasn’t when he or she wanted to be born after all.

  As if that hadn’t been enough, when she came home after dark, she discovered that she and her family weren’t alone in their house.

  And that the world wasn’t alone, either.

  There was another civilization, called Salem.

  The husband-and-wife scouting team, dressed in mottled green clothing, had explained that the Shins were in trouble because Mahrree had spouted off that the Administrators were liars about Terryp’s land, and because Perrin had resigned from the army instead of becoming the new High General. They promised they could whisk them all away—even Jaytsy, still heavy with child—from the world.

  Tonight.

  In a very real way, there were births and unexpected deaths and twists that kinked Mahrree’s thoughts. The birth of a new life for all of them, and the death of who they were—

  It’s a good thing, Mahrree decided as she massaged her head which felt packed with cotton from too little sleep last night, that days like yesterday happen only a few times in one’s life, because they were thoroughly draining.

  But, surprisingly, she didn’t feel empty this morning. She felt full to overflowing.

  They were leaving it all, tonight.

  She could hardly make that unusual idea take hold in her brain, as if she’d been told that if she flapped her arms fast enough she could suddenly take flight. Yet deep down she knew it was true.

  Leaving Edge, that is, not flying.

  But then again, who knew? No one in the world knew that there were thousands of other people living elsewhere, yet that had been true since King Querul drove Guide Pax away from the world one-hundred-thirty-eight years ago, so maybe she could fly out of there, she just didn’t know it yet!

  She chuckled as she breathed in the morning air and, not being able to stop herself, flapped her arms experimentally. The two soldiers on permanent patrol at the end of the road must have thought she was waving a bizarre good morning to them. She quit after an unsuccessful five seconds. She felt so light and happy, which completely confused her. Shouldn’t she feel some sense of dread or loss about leaving everything she knew behind tonight?

  Nope. Nothing but tingling, from head to toe.

  Embarrassed, Mahrree had to admit she’d known thirteen-year-old girls less giddy and erratic than herself.

  But there was just so much to look forward to! The scouts last night had even promised her a trip to Terryp’s ruins. They had scholars and tours and campsites and everything!

  But first, she had to get to Salem, and where in the world—or rather, out of the world—could that be? Maybe north, she decided as she sat down on the steps and sighed in sublime anticipation. Through the mountains, or maybe west first to Terryp’s land, and then north?

  If only Perrin would wake up, so she could speculate with him. But he didn’t get home until just a few hours ago, after what Mahrree assumed was his most intense interrogation of Shem, the man who had been someone entirely different for the past seventeen years.

  A spy from Salem. That’s what he’d been, worming his way into their family, becoming their confidante, their best friend . . . and likely telling Salem all about their secrets.

  It was thoughts like those which kept her from sleeping. Random realizations that all which she knew was only a small part of the whole. She felt like a small child again, noticing for the first time that the smudges on the mountains were actually trees, thousands of them, and that she’d never before noticed what was now so obvious.

  She remembered how years ago, after two soldiers tried to assassinate Relf and Joriana Shin at the fort but were killed before they could do so, they had briefly suspected Shem of being something other than just another soldier. They’d even wondered if he hadn’t been a Guarder who had defected to their side, if he hadn’t taken out the lieutenants himself.

  But he’d endured all of Relf’s questioning, and Perrin’s and Mahrree’s suspicions, and they let the matter go because, well, he was their little brother.

  They had no idea how close to the truth they’d come.

  She had her own list of questions about Salem’s number one spy and the world’s biggest liar, but when Perrin finally crawled into bed next to her, all he said was, “Be ready to go tomorrow night,” before he collapsed.

  Perrin still trusted Shem.

  That was all she needed to know, for now. As Perrin had left the house last night and snuck past the sleeping guard, Mahrree had been startled to feel gentle peace come over their home, filling her with unexpected joy.

  The scouts had told them that Salem was organized the way Guide Hierum, the first Guide of the Creator, had led the world before those who organized Idumea as a way to manipulate their civilization destroyed it all. Guide Pax, who was arguing with King Querul in 200, hadn’t been killed at Mt. Deceit as everyone believed. He’d escaped, with the help of Querul’s guard who were loyal to Pax, and they found a new land.

  A new land.

  The thought was too wonderful, yet one she’d hoped for, for many years. Guarders were, indeed, alive and well and thriving, elsewhere. The other “Guarders,” who frequently raided the world, hadn’t left it at all, but were just opportunistic local thieves.

  But there was another land, another group of people, another possibility, another kind of life—

  How can anyone sleep with such thoughts running around in one’s head?

  As she lay in bed last night, she wondered if there were any way that Salem might be surrounded by mountains, that perhaps there’d be a house with weathered gray wood and window boxes filled with herbs.

  Eventually the exhaustion of the day and evening overwhelmed her, and as she drifted off to sleep she hoped she might have her old and perplexing dream again, but her mind never settled down enough.

  Even now, as she sat on the front steps, she couldn’t focus.

  All she could think was, Tonight we leave it all, forever.

  She’d be waking Perrin soon, because she just couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Peto had already gone to the Briters for milking. He didn’t say a word when Mahrree told him his father had a “bad night,” but nodded wearily and trudged over to his sister’s place. It was all Mahrree could do to keep from bursting out with, “This will be your last early morning milking!”

  But there was one kink her in joy—her daughter and son-in-law.

  Jaytsy and Deckett had a successful farm, a dozen cows expecting calves, and a baby of their own due any day now. While there was nothing left for Perrin and Mahrree in Edge, and not so much for Peto since Edge had been told to shun him as well, the Briters had to leave their entire world.

  “Please let them understand,” Mahrree murmured her prayer as the neighborhood slowly brightened with the coming sun. “Please help them feel the same joy that makes me want to fly off this porch!”

  The first rays of dawn came over the distant marsh fields, catching Mahrree’s eye and blinding her momentarily. She shielded her face, focusing instead on the front garden which she had planted some weeks ago.


  Peto had speculated that the dirt, which had never deliberately had seeds put into it for all the twenty-five years Mahrree had lived there, wouldn’t know what to do about her careful raking and her first attempts at gardening.

  But when her eyes adjusted to the light, and she could see clearly again, she barked out a loud “Ha!” that startled a chirping bird.

  Mahrree slapped her hand over her mouth to hide her grin.

  The sun revealed the first leaves of hundreds—no, thousands—of seedlings which had sprouted during the night.

  The color of her world had turned green.

  ---

  When Perrin woke up, it was to stare at the oak beams above his bed and sigh in exasperation, mingled with exhilaration.

  Tonight. It was all coming to an end tonight.

  He’d left the Briters’ barn a few hours ago feeling as if he could nearly trust Shem again. If it weren’t for the hot glow of reassurance that nearly burst out of his chest as he snuck home, he wouldn’t have told Mahrree to be ready to go today.

  That, and the thought of Administrator Genev readying coaches and horses to head up to Edge intent on arresting his family for sedition against Idumea—yes, that was enough incentive.

  And a detail that he would not be sharing with Mahrree yet. He needed her to be acting natural today, which, when she was excited or agitated, wasn’t something she did very well.

  Fatigued, he forced himself to sit up. Somewhere in Idumea, new High General Qayin Thorne was gloating in the mansion where Perrin’s parents used to live. And undoubtedly Chairman Nicko Mal was also awake and drafting his notes for their trials which would begin the moment the Shins, in chains, arrived at the Administrative Headquarters.

  And there sat Perrin, uselessly clenching his fists in dreadful anticipation for what would transpire in the next twenty-four hours.

  That’s when the door flew open and there stood Mahrree with both fury and joy on her face.

  “Yes?” he ventured cautiously.

  “I have a garden!” she beamed, then immediately furrowed her brows. “Everything’s come up!”

  “Well . . . good for you?”

  “I’m mad at you!” she announced, although her mouth wriggled otherwise. “Because you’re dragging me away from it.”

  He stopped rubbing his eyes. “Wait. Mahrree, are you trying to say you’re changing your mind?”

  “Yes! I mean, no! Don’t you get it?” she said, a bit flustered. “I’m trying to start an argument. You realize this is our last day here,” and she raised her eyebrows.

  He stared at her. “You’re not serious about arguing, are you? Do you have any idea how tired I am? This is a terrible idea.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “But, but it’s our last day, and—”

  “I’ve never told you this before, but Mahrree? You’ve never been good at arguing.”

  Wholly affronted, but seeing the spark in his eyes, she put her hands on her waist. “Oh really? Well, we’ll just see!”

  ---

  Peto shoveled the muck and reviewed a decision he’d made two weeks ago, when he realized Edge was serious about shunning them: he could shovel manure out of the goodness of his heart for his sister and brother-in-law, or he could shovel for slips of silver.

  Or, rather, he could begin reclaiming his family’s name and fixing all of this mess.

  Once the Briters no longer needed his help, he’d head south and plead his case to Colonel Brillen Karna. Who could say no to a brawny young man willing to work the massive stables of the fort at Rivers? Peto would even do it voluntarily at first, maybe just live at the fort as payment, and begin proving that Shins were still worth their weight in potatoes.

  He needed to get away from Edge. A week ago, as he was hoeing a row in Deck’s field, he was surprised to see half a dozen boys from his old kickball team sauntering through the dirt. He nearly broke out into a smile, until he realized they were sniggering at him.

  “Yep,” one boy called out loudly, “practice is starting again, and with a certain someone’s records scribbled out of all the books, it looks like we have some new most valuable players.”

  Peto leaned on his hoe. “What are you talking about?”

  What followed was the worst acting Peto had ever witnessed. His former friends put their hands to their ears like old men, looked dramatically up and down, and exchanged overly practiced looks.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “I don’t know. It was something odd, but—”

  “It was nothing, boys. Absolutely nothing.”

  Peto gritted his teeth, seeing the way this was going. He turned back to his hoeing.

  “Yep, everything’s different now, as if a certain someone had never been there, and never will be again.”

  Peto firmed his grip on the hoe to prevent himself from thrusting it into someone’s foot.

  “Yep, the world’s a better place now—”

  To be honest, he firmed his grip in order to idly swing the tool around, the handle smacking the nearest boy on the side of the head with a satisfying thunk, and knocking him to the ground.

  Over the protests and exclamations, he said serenely, as he went back to hoeing, “It was nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  Only because the boy he leveled was bleeding—and probably out of worry they’d be next—did his former team rush away to get their friend help.

  Peto hoed that row so deeply that he had to go back and fill it in again so that the carrot seeds wouldn’t be drowned by a foot of dirt.

  He also needed some distance from his parents. They rained down upon him so much guilty sympathy that he was drowning in it.

  Seeing them so subdued—well, it was getting to him. Yesterday, former General Perrin Shin hopelessly chased a wayward chicken around the yard. Peto laughed, but it really was quite pitiful. His eyes burned with frustration to later see his father meekly taking advice from Deck about what constitutes a weed.

  Peto didn’t necessarily want him to be an officer again, but Perrin Shin needed to be something much more than just a farmhand.

  He could still be something great in the world.

  Something like the greatest general the world had ever seen.

  And the only one who could start to make that impossibility a reality was his son Peto, the only person in the world who knew who his father was supposed to become. Peto realized that was why Relf had told him of his dream, had made Peto write it down and keep it safe. Only Peto had the power to restore the Shins to greatness.

  And it couldn’t happen while they played farmer.

  ---

  After breakfast, Perrin and Mahrree walked to the Briters. Just to annoy the soldiers keeping an eye on their route, the Shins cut through neighbors’ yards on a new path to the farm.

  “We’ll never do that again,” Perrin murmured to Mahrree, and felt another flood of mixed emotions. “Cut through that garden.”

  “I know,” Mahrree said. “I don’t know whether to sob or laugh. I may do both.”

  “Quietly, please. The soldiers seem a bit sharper this morning. They may suspect something’s up.”

  “Why would they think that?”

  Perrin hesitated. He wasn’t used to lying to his wife. But it wasn’t as if he couldn’t come right out and say, Because they know that tomorrow the world is literally coming to get you.

  “Shem told me that Thorne was getting pressure from Idumea. Word must have reached the garrison that soldiers were requesting transfers and even deserting. As of yesterday, he was down to one-hundred-sixty.”

  “Good,” said Mahrree smugly.

  “Now remember,” he told her as they strode through the corn field, the shoots just breaking through the soil, “we’re to go about our day as usual so as to not arouse any suspicion. When we ‘disappear,’ it has to seem to have taken us by surprise.”

  “How’s it going to happen? Making us ‘disappear’?” Mahrree wondered. “Won’t anyone come loo
king for us?”

  “I’ve wondered that, too,” he admitted. “But Shem wouldn’t give me any other details, so that I’m safe.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  Perrin rubbed his forehead. He really didn’t want to tell her that not everyone escaped successfully. One group had even been caught and detained by Qayin Thorne years ago, and was never heard from again. “I’m not sure what he meant by that.” He’d never told so many lies to his wife in such rapid succession.

  They walked in silence the rest of the way. At the barn they found Deck, Peto, and Jaytsy already at work.

  Perrin gave a sidelong glance to Mahrree.

  She nodded back once.

  As they walked through the doors, Perrin said loudly, “Looks like that calf might wander, Deck. Let me get the doors.” He didn’t even glance in the direction of the soldier trying to crouch behind an inadequate shrub just thirty paces away. But now the sergeant wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop.

  Deck, bucket in hand that he was bringing to Jaytsy seated at the churn, looked around in confusion. “What calf, Perrin?”

  Jaytsy cocked her head at her father. “Something’s up, isn’t it? I’ve seen that look too many times before.”

  Peto came from a stall, wielding a pitchfork. “Nice for the two of you to finally show up for work.”

  “Sit down. All of you,” Perrin said.

  The gravity of his tone forced his sons to squat on bales of hay.

  “Last night, your mother and I had some visitors . . .”

  Fifteen minutes later Perrin finished with, “So Salem feels it’s imperative that we leave tonight.”

  Peto was the first to finally break the stunned silence that hung in the barn. “So . . . run away?”

  Perrin bristled at the insinuation, but said, “Well . . . yes.”

  Peto’s shoulders twitched. “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  Mahrree watched her son who grew more agitated.

  “All right,” Peto said slowly. “But I have another suggestion. I haven’t told you this yet, but I’ve got a plan to go down to Karna—”

  “NO!” Perrin thundered.

  “Why not?!” Peto hollered back. “I’m sure Karna will—”

  Turn you over to Genev immediately, because he’ll have no choice! was what Perrin wanted to roar back at him, but he couldn’t let them know any of that yet, especially with Mahrree still beaming next to him, hoping her enthusiasm would radiate out far enough to engulf her son.

  Perrin rubbed his forehead. “You have to come with us, Peto,” he mumbled. “Arrangements have been made, and—”

  “I need to stay here,” Peto said simply. “I’ll sob and throw hysterics that you’re ‘missing,’ then there will be sympathetic commanders willing to take in Perrin’s orphaned son. Karna, or Fadh, or—”

  Perrin had been clenching every muscle in his body. He knew that once the new laws Idumea had passed went into effect, no man, anywhere, would dare shelter his son.

  “No, Peto. That’s not possible—”

  “Why not?!”

  “Because we all stay together!” Perrin hissed, remembering there was a soldier outside who may have heard the earlier shouting.

  “You mean, us too?” Jaytsy said, squirming.

  Perrin exhaled. “Yes, all of us.”

  Jaytsy looked at Deck. “But . . . we’ve got expecting cattle, and our baby’s coming anytime—”

  “We know that,” Mahrree said. “And so do those who are coming to take us. They specialize in moving expecting women!”

  But Jaytsy watched her father earnestly as she said, “I think Deck and I should stay, at least until the baby’s here. We’ll be as hysterical as Peto, and my tears would be genuine—”

  “NO!” said Perrin with such brittle fury that no one dared talk back to him. “Jayts, after we leave,” he whispered, “there’d be no one here to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?” Jaytsy whispered.

  Perrin’s gaze flicked in the direction of the fort. “Thorne.”

  Deck squared his shoulders. “What about me?”

  “You’re coming too,” Perrin said. “You—”

  “No, I mean, I can protect Jaytsy—”

  “Sorry, but no, you can’t,” Perrin interrupted. “You’d be useless against Thorne, and we all know it. Even with your pitchfork. I’m afraid there’s no choice.” Because Thorne’s out to get you, too. He wants your wife, which means he has to eliminate you first.

  Deck tried to hide his insulted expression, but Peto didn’t.

  “I just can’t go, Father,” he said. “It’d ruin everything.”

  “Everything’s already ruined, Peto,” Perrin told him. “Has been for longer than three weeks. This really is our only option, and it has to happen tonight. Everyone. You included.”

  Peto sighed. “But you don’t understand—”

  “And neither do you!”

  “Ah-ha-HA-HA!”

  Mahrree’s rigid laugh made everyone turn to her.

  “You know how they say the tension’s so thick you could cut it with a knife? This would require a . . . hooked, cutting thing. You know, with the long, curved blade thingy?” She gestured madly.

  “A scythe?” Deck suggested.

  “I think so?”

  Perrin smiled dimly. “Thank you, Mahrree, for . . . whatever that was.”

  Even Peto managed half a smile.

  Perrin tried again. “We realize we’re asking a great deal of each of you, that this is the last thing you would have expected to hear from us today. But Salem feels we are in danger, and I have to admit that I feel it as well. The only hope for our family is to run away tonight, and trust that we’re running to a much better place.”

  “And your source of most of this information is Shem?” Peto raised a critical eyebrow.

  “Yes, we spoke at length last night, right over there in that stall.”

  Deck spun to look. “So it wasn’t a dog that bedded down there?”

  “No, Shem and me.” Perrin didn’t add, And we buried a file about Mahrree, started by Administrator Gadiman fifteen years ago. Right there, under that appropriately steaming pile of cow dung.

  Every muscle in him clenched again, especially when Peto’s gaze hardened. “So you’re trusting the man who for seventeen years lied to us about everything? You’re putting our futures in the hands of a liar?”

  For the first time that morning, Mahrree’s enthusiasm flagged. “Peto, I realize this is a lot to take—”

  “No, Mother. It’s impossible to take! And two people who sneak around in the dark shared everything about Salem with you? Is there any evidence such a place even exists?”

  Perrin blinked at his son’s cynicism. “Peto, I didn’t want to believe them at first either, but—”

  “But still you are! You’re trusting your future and ours to an admitted liar and his two contacts who wouldn’t even give you their names?! They could be Guarders, and this could be a trap!”

  Perrin and Mahrree exchanged looks, each one hoping the other had an idea.

  Neither of them did.

  Eventually Mahrree came up with, “All I can tell you is this, Peto: when they spoke, I felt it, in here.” She patted her chest. “I felt the Creator, I felt peace, and I even felt my parents. I knew that leaving was the right choice, and I still do. Is it absurd to leave behind all that we know and possess, and follow strangers—and a liar—to somewhere we don’t know? Yes, it is! But do I want to do it anyway? Oh, Peto—yes! Yes, because I feel it!”

  Jaytsy sniffed. “Drat. Now I feel it, too!” she chuckled.

  Deck nodded and dabbed at his eyes.

  Perrin, his own eyes swelling with affirmation, turned to Peto.

  He scowled back.

  So Perrin turned to Deck instead. “Your uncle, aunt, and cousin won’t know what happened to you. We don’t have any family left who will miss us, but you, Deck? You have the fewest reasons
to leave, but the most to lose simply because you married into this family. I need to know—honestly—how do you feel about all of this?”

  Deck met Jaytsy’s eyes. “She and our baby are my family now, Perrin. I go with her.”

  “It’ll be worth it, Deck,” Mahrree said. “I’m sure they have cattle in Salem.” She turned to Perrin. “Don’t they?”

  Perrin shrugged. “If not, we can come back and steal some, as good Guarders should.” He was sure that’d elicit a smile from Peto.

  He was wrong.

  “Peto, Please, trust me—this is the only option,” his father said.

  “According to Shem, the liar?”

  “Yes, yes, yes—he’s a liar. Point made! Shem was quite forthcoming last night, confessing a lot and explaining a great deal of his behavior. I choose to trust him. He was never dishonest in his feelings toward us.”

  “So why isn’t he here now?” Peto’s gray eyes hard with animosity. “Why isn’t he convincing me of his plan?”

  “Because he’s on duty, trying to spy for us. The garrison is making life uncomfortable for Thorne, disappointed in his poor leadership. Chances are he’ll try to do something noteworthy and stupid, and it might involve us. We need to get out of the way so that we’re not a target.” It was close enough to the truth that only half of Perrin’s muscles stiffened.

  Peto shrugged at that and let his gaze wander back to the ground.

  “Peto?”

  Reluctantly he looked at his father.

  “You have to go. I realize you’re legally an adult now, but as your father I’m order—I’m asking you: please, come with us.”

  “Peto,” Mahrree said, “you know it’s the right thing, don’t you?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “But you’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  “Nope,” Mahrree said.

  Peto sighed heavily and shook his head.

  “I’ll take that as an agreement to leave with us,” Perrin decided.

  “It’s for the best,” Mahrree assured him, once again overflowing with enthusiasm. “It’ll be an adventure!”

  Perrin tilted his head in warning at her. At any moment she might burble something about Terryp’s land, and now just wasn’t quite the right time.

  Mahrree clapped her hands cheerfully. “We need to get back to work! Can’t do anything suspicious or out of the ordinary!”

  “Mother,” Peto said, “That sing-song voice is not only suspicious and out of the ordinary, it’s also annoying.”

  “Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

  Acting natural was easier said than done, Perrin realized later. At midday meal, when he and the boys came in to eat, Jaytsy was sobbing at the stack of changing cloths she was folding, while Mahrree stroked her hair.

  “I just told her she can’t take any of it with us.”

  After they ate, Perrin spied Deck patting a cow ready to deliver soon, and Perrin offered a prayer that someone would notice the cattle needed a concerned rancher.

  Peto said nothing while he slowly raked out the stalls, often stopping in his work and sighing in frustration.

  And when Perrin came into the Briters’ house to wash up, he found Mahrree weeping in their pantry.

  “What are we doing?” she wailed. “We’re really leaving?”

  “Didn’t you want to play Terryp?” he reminded her.

  “I can’t remember what I want sometimes,” she sniffled. “No, we’re going. We’re going. Oh, but I haven’t visited the burial grounds to tell my parents!”

  “Don’t you think they already know, Mahrree?”

  But he felt it too, the wildly swinging moods like an axe on a rope during a land tremor. Yet there was no way they were staying. Edge had turned its back on them, and the world would be here in the morning to take them to Idumea and try them for sedition. He hadn’t heard anything from Karna, Yordin, or Fadh since he resigned. Shem had said they were ordered not to correspond with him. But surely one of them would have been clever enough to circumvent the Administrators and send him something.

  Never mind, he told himself as he repaired the fencing on the west side of a pasture. If only he could see Clark, his massive black horse, one last time. Maybe Offra would still take care of him.

  Perrin scratched the ears of wide-eyed Clover who had warily wandered over to see what he was up to. She was the first and likely last cow that he’d ever successfully milked. Perrin wished that somehow Clark could hear his muttered, “Thanks for everything. You’re a marvelous animal. I’m sure going to miss you.”

  The other thought that nagged him all afternoon was, Where is Salem? Through the mountains? How were they supposed to get past the massive boulder field at the base of the mountains? And the forest before it, always patrolled by soldiers?

  In frustration he yanked too hard on the rope he was tightening and gave himself a mild burn. He sucked on his palm until the heat went down.

  Where’s Salem? Where’s Salem?

  For dinner the five of them walked to the Shins’ home as naturally as possible to have their last meal together in the house they would never see again. Jaytsy and Deckett didn’t even look back at the Briter farm for a final goodbye.

  Two soldiers recently posted on either side of their drive were watching too intently.

  ---

  “And where do you think you’re going? Hew Gleace, turn around!”

  Gleace stopped, frozen in position with his hand on the door. Reluctantly he released the knob and turned to face his wife.

  “Dearest, it’s tonight—”

  “I know it’s tonight. Everyone knows it’s tonight. So where in the world do you think you’re going?” She eyed his clothing—all black—and folded her arms.

  “But we haven’t ‘killed’ a taking in such a long time.”

  “Oh, I wish you’d stop saying it like that!”

  Hew smiled apologetically. “Everything we’ve been working for, for years, ends tonight. Every available man is needed—”

  “You are not available!” Mrs. Gleace insisted.

  He held up his hands. “Who’s in charge of all of this?”

  She tightened her folded arms. “You’re too old. You haven’t done this kind of work in years. It’s too dangerous.” Her voice quivered. “You’re needed here more!”

  “Dearest, there are others here who can—”

  “No they can’t!” she insisted. “Please don’t go. The Shins will be taken care of. This is younger men’s work.”

  A frantic pounding came at the front door. Hew yanked it open to see a middle-aged man holding a hat in his hands.

  “We need you—now!”

  Gleace sighed and sent his wife an accusatory glare. To the man he said, “The new stock from Sands?”

  “She’s one of the best we’ve had in years, Gleace! If we lose her and the calf—”

  “I know, I know.” Gleace grudgingly took up his straw hat and pulled on an old jacket over his black clothes. “Can’t afford to lose the new bloodlines after all we did to get them here.” With a glance back at his wife, he murmured, “It’s calving season, after all.”

  As the man hurried away, Mrs. Gleace brought her husband his work gloves.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” he said, only slightly put out as he slid on a glove.

  “What, you think I put that cow into distress?”

  “No, but you’d pray for something like that.”

  The slender, wrinkled woman’s eyes gentled. “I may have asked the Creator to remind you that your duty lies here first . . .”

  He kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

  When he’d shut the door behind him, his wife looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you!”

  Chapter 2--“Oh, I’m trying to be

  helpful.”