!!!" $%&'&%((%)$*+,-".

*/
01/2(% 3,'4*(*56 7 8*(+/% 9!*
Copyright: 2011 by BestsellerBound.com,Darcia lelle
All rights to this Anthology: Volume One, 1wo, and 1hree resered.
Rights to the indiidual works contained, are owned by the submitting authors, and,or publishers, who, by
submitting, hae permitted their use in this collection. Copyright owners are listed with each work.
No part o this book may be reproduced in any orm or by any electronic or mechanical means including inormation storage and
retrieal systems, without permission in writing rom the author,s,. 1his book contains works o iction and noniction. 1he characters,
incidents, and dialogue in the ictions are drawn rom the author`s imagination and are not to be construed as real or historically
accurate. Any resemblance to actual eents or persons, liing or dead, is entirely coincidental
:1.4 1+'4*) 41& 2)*;<-%- '4% =<)&' .412'%) *= '4%<) !*)>? !<'4 *,(6 1 =%! %@.%2'<*,&" 94*&% &1/2(%&?
!4<.4 1)% &4*)' &'*)<%& *) *'4%) %@.%)2'&? 1)% ,*'%-"
ClAP1LRS
1. Darcia lelle - 1be Cvttivg age
2. Stacy Juba - 1revt,ire Year. .go 1oaa,
3. Judy Alter - Mattie
4. Mike Nettleton - ovetive. a Creat Covvotiov
5. James Michael Radclie - 1be Cvaraiav`. .revtice
6. Rebecca Ryals Russell - Oae..a; erab,v !ar.
. Susan lelene Gottried - 1reror`. ovg
8. John Samuels - Orercovivg .DD !itbovt Meaicatiov
9. Cynthia Meyers-lanson - M, .rvOr - M, ife
10. Andrew L. Kauman - !bite 1be arage tee.
11. Charlie Courtland - 1be iaaev !itt of tbe Dragov
12. Ami Blackwelder - 1be bifter. of 2010
13. Magnolia Belle - 1`ov Ma
14. Robert J. McDonnell - Roc/ c Rott RiOff
15. Stephen D. Rogers - bot 1o Deatb
16. 1y Johnston - More 1bav Kiv
1. Jennier Lane - !itb Cooa ebarior
18. Cli Ball - |.vrer
19. Carolyn J. Rose - evtoc/ a/e
20. Sylia Massara - 1be Otber o,frieva
21. M.L. Kemp - Deatb of a Davcivg Ma.ter
A412'%) B,% 7 C1).<1 D%((% 7 94% A+''<,5 :-5%
Darcia lelle has a head ull or characters demanding their stories be told. Originally rom Massachusetts,
she now writes in the sunshine o llorida, in a home ruled by dogs and cats. \ou can learn more about
Darcia and her books at: www.Darcialelle.com
Author blog: http:,,quieturybooks.com,blog
Amazon.com author page: http:,,www.amazon.com,Darcia-lelle,e,B002L1MlO
Copyright 2010 Darcia lelle
94% A+''<,5 :-5%
My name is Lilly Skye Destiny Summers. My parents thought it was a great idea to gie me three names with
the initials LSD to go with my last name. lor years they called me LSD Summers. 1hey lied in a commune and
did way too much acid.
Most people call me Skye. Lxcept my ather`s parents, who always call me Lilly, and een that name is said
with some disdain. 1hey`re partial to my ather`s sister`s kids. My cousins` names are Victoria Marie and
Benjamin James. Benjamin is a gay surgeon liing his lie in the closet and Victoria is a P.1.A. mom with a
Princeton degree in bullshit and an addiction to painkillers. My grandparents are in their late eighties and lie in a
ancy housing complex or old people. My grandather wears Depends and drool constantly dribbles rom the
corners o his mouth. le still puts on a tie beore going down to dinner eery night. 1he whole thing is rather
comical.
I`m 3, married to an electrician who could hae made huge money as a porn star. I`e kept my maiden name
or reasons other than my loe o LSD Summers. My husband`s name is Scott Skyler. lad I changed my name, I
would hae been called Skye Skyler. Skye Summers is bad but Skye Skyler is ridiculous.
I work as a hairstylist in a salon called 1he Cutting Ldge. \hen I started my career 1 years ago, I had
isions o my unettered creatiity transorming ordinary women into sexy tramps or glowing goddesses. I was
terribly nae. Now I spend my days trying to explain to the round-aced Oreo-addict that, no matter what I do
to her hair, she will not leae looking like Angelina Jolie. 1ry and pull that o tactully.
At the moment I am contemplating murder. 1oday is lriday and I hae been on my eet since 8 a.m. 1he
clock aboe the desk tells me it is now 2:10. I hae not eaten lunch. lae not een peed all day. 1he woman in
my chair is speaking nonstop and I am thinking about killing her.
I smile and nod while Marla prattles on incessantly about her existence. She watches my relection in the
mirror - or, more likely, her own. She is talking about Amy, her 5-year-old princess`. According to Marla, Amy
is gited beyond measure. I`m told that eeryone she comes in contact with comments on the child`s
extraordinary charm and intelligence.
Amy recently stuck a wad o chewing gum in a classmate`s hair. 1his is not something Marla would eer tell
me. I know this because I had to cut the wad out o the other child`s beautiul blonde curls. 1hat child`s mother
is also a regular client and not a an o Marla or Amy.
I gae Amy her irst haircut when she was 3. She bit me twice. Last week, Amy kicked me while I tried to cut
her bangs. Amy is indeed a princess.
Marla turns the topic to her son, Justin, age 8. Apparently he should be declared a child prodigy because he
has read an entire Dr. Seuss book to his sister.
I continue to smile, snip the requested one-quarter inch rom Marla`s bangs. \es, precisely one-quarter o an
inch. And one-eighth o an inch o the back. Am I supposed to hold a measuring tape to her hair Does she
My jaw aches rom the tension o my phony smile. I catch a glimpse o my relection and marel at how
relaxed I appear. No one would know that I am currently harboring antasies o cutting o Marla`s perect little
ears that hold the perect pearl studs that her perect husband presented to her on their Alaskan cruise last
month.
Marla is saying, \hen I watch Amy and Justin interact with other children, I realize the tremendous
adantage my children hae with me being home, rather than selishly pursuing a career.`
I smile, antasize about cutting Marla`s tongue o with my surgically sharpened >500 shears.
I don`t hae children, which Marla has made clear she eels is a tragedy o epic proportions. 1he real tragedy
is that people like Marla are allowed to procreate.
I hae three dogs. Neal is a terrier mix, Cassady is a Chihuahua, and Jack is a chocolate lab mixed with
something o questionable descent. 1hey are named ater Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac, two amous writers o
the Beat Generation.
My parents were thrilled that I named my dogs ater igures that were so central to lie in the sixties. O
course, haing been raised by lower children and gien the name Lilly Skye Destiny Summers, you`d hae to
expect some o the sixties subculture to rub o on me.
My three dogs are rescues and tend to be spoiled brats with bad manners. At the moment, they are probably
lounging on my couch, watching Jerry Springer and raiding the snack cabinet. Okay, in reality they are probably
sprawled out in their respectie beds, sleeping blissully. Lither way, I wish I could join them.
My mind has wandered and I missed the last minute or so o Marla`s monologue. She doesn`t seem to notice.
I continue to smile and nod.
I glance at Renee, my coworker and good riend or the past decade. Being surrounded by mirrors makes it
impossible to roll our eyes or gesture obscenely. Renee`s client is talking with her entire body, her hands moing
rapidly and her head bouncing like one o those stupid Bobblehead toys. Do people not realize how hard it is to
work on a moing target
Renee and I oten toss around the idea o quitting 1he Cutting Ldge and going to work at a uneral parlor.
Our clients would then hae to sit still. And they wouldn`t speak, so we wouldn`t hae to pretend to care what
they say. I don`t tell Renee that I constantly antasize about turning my lie clients into cadaers.
I moe on to the blow-dry stage o Marla`s hairstyle. Unortunately, the noise does not deter her rom
speaking. Amy has her irst jazz recital next month,` she says. \e`ll need you to do her hair early that
morning. I`m thinking that she should wear it up, maybe with tendrils around her ace.`
1endrils. \hy do mothers want their young daughters to look like the ashion models in Vogue \hat is
wrong with looking like the children they are I keep my smile in place and tell Marla that o course we can do
that.
My next client walks in the door. She is booked or a highlight and has her newborn son with her. le is
already ussing. I can now understand how people suddenly snap and commit mass murder.

Saturday morning, barely :30, and here I am unlocking the door to 1he Cutting Ldge. My 8 a.m. client
watches rom her car like a newly released inmate on a combination o crack and Prozac. Lyes wide, lips parted,
waiting to lunge out her door and pounce on me. 1en years retired and the woman`s main entertainment seems
to come rom crawling up my ass.
I hae maybe ie minutes to get the coee dripping, lip on the curling irons, get the air conditioner started
on enting the stale air rom the building, and all the other assorted tasks that come with opening the business
each morning. 1hen Lillian will be on my heels and I`ll hae no repriee or about nine hours.
My coworkers will arrie soon but not beore Lillian waddles her way inside. A ew times I`e tried leaing
the lights o, thinking maybe she`d realize the salon doesn`t actually open until 8, which is why I write that time
on her appointment card each week. I`e since come to beliee that she doesn`t eel business hours or
appointment times apply to her.
Muttering to mysel, I shule into the back room, switch on the lights, and scream. 1hen I laugh. Not
because it`s unny. \ell, okay, it is sort o unny.
Roxie, our newest stylist, is straddled oer a young male, presumably her boyriend. 1his male is kicked back
in one o our waxing chairs. lis pants are around his ankles and her skirt is hiked up to her waist. Roxie
scrambles o the guy and I notice that my entrance has done nothing to diminish his excitement.
Pull your damn pants up,` Roxie mutters.
1he guy obeys. Roxie looks at me, her ace lushed with either embarrassment or sexual stimulation. She
says, Oh my god.`
Lillian will be walking in any second,` I tell her. \ou`d better pull yoursel together.`
I...` Roxie stammers. She can`t meet my eyes. I didn`t realize the time. I thought. \e were alone and.`
I`e always wanted to do it in one o those chairs, too,` I say.
Roxie laughs. She is all o 20 years old, has a pierced eyebrow and bright pink streaks in her hair. I eel old
standing beside her.
\ou won`t say anything to Lorraine` she asks.
No,` I assure her. I won`t. But she`d probably laugh too.`
Lorraine is the owner. She isn`t around much anymore, being semi-retired and sick o people. I can`t say that
I blame her.
Roxie steps into the bathroom to put hersel back together. And, hopeully, to wash her hands. ler partner
slips out the back door, looking like a 5-year-old who`d just been ripped out o his sandbox.
1he ront door pops open and Lillian calls, Good morning, Skye! I don`t smell coee, yet. \ou`re moing
slow today.`
I bite my lip to keep rom spewing obscenities her way. \e are directly across the street rom a coee shop.
Lillian has probably been in that parking lot since the crack o dawn. \et it neer occurs to her that we run a hair
salon, not a coee shop, and maybe she should drag her at ass across the street and get her own damn coee.

I manage to make it through an entire Saturday without stabbing someone`s jugular ein. I must admit that I
considered it more oten than not. Maiming or killing my clients has become a antasy I indulge in with
disturbing requency. 1his should probably concern me. It doesn`t.
Scott and I hae plans tonight. \e`re going to a party at a riend`s house. 1he occasion is another riend`s
birthday. No party hats. Just a lot o booze and ood. I`m in charge o chips and dip, which means I hae to stop
at the grocery store on my way home. I guess I should learn to plan ahead.
I hate the grocery store. And I`m running late. 1he combination doesn`t help my already sour mood.
My 1 p.m. client had been 20 minutes late. ler boyriend had spent the preious night at her apartment.
1hey`d woken up late and he had taken her out or a big breakast. 1ime had gotten away rom them. low nice
or her.
1heir sappy little loe story had thrown o my schedule or the remainder o the aternoon. Now I`m
irritated and late and I hae to stop at the dreaded grocery store.
Naturally the place is crowded. Is there eer a time when a grocery store isn`t swarming with people who
consider the trip to be a major amily outing I see a parking spot open up near the ront o the lot. linally
something is working in my aor.
I hae my directional on and I`m about to turn into the spot when a bitch in a Volo swings around rom the
opposite lane and zips in ront o me. She almost takes o my bumper. I want to take o her head.
She gies me a smug smile. I stay where I am. I`m thinking o running her oer.
Okay, so common sense kicks in and I realize that running the bitch oer in broad daylight in a crowded
parking lot probably isn`t the best idea. I step on the gas and park at the end o the lot.
As I`m getting out o my car, I see the bitch walking away rom her pristine siler Volo. ler hair is bottle-
blonde, her clothes high-end lash. I can imagine the type o nightmare client she is and I eel instant pity or her
stylist.
I`m walking by her sparkling Volo and I notice the coer or the gas cap is open. I hae a thought and it`s
not a nice one. But it`s better than the one about running her oer.
I shake my head, tell mysel no. I`m all grown up now. I`m an adult, I tell mysel. So what, mysel says back. I
ignore that childish sel.
I step into the grocery store and nudge my way through the sea o people. I get the chips and two kinds o
dip. I`m about ready to leae. 1hen I see the Volo bitch. She`s lashing her diamond-coered ingers at an
employee, demanding the poor kid search their stockroom or a speciic laor o salad dressing that she must
hae tonight. I want to hit her oer the head with a bottle o Newman`s Own.
I pass the aisle but can`t escape her shrill oice. 1hat`s when my childish sel wins oer and I grab a canister
o sugar o a shel. I stand in the 20 Items Or Less lane. ladn`t it used to be 10 Items Or Less I count the stu
in the cart o the person in ront o me. She has twenty-one items. I think about kicking her in the ass.
I hae a clear memory o being in the grocery store with my ather. I was 8. \e had stopped to get
marshmallows and Rice Krispies. \e were going to make Rice Krispies 1reats and watch Disney moies all
night.
\e were standing in line at the checkout. 1he store wasn`t all that busy but there weren`t many checkouts
open. I remember we were ourth in line. I couldn`t wait to get our night started.
A woman strode toward us, then cut in ront o us in line as i we weren`t there. She simply stepped in the
space my ather had courteously let between us and the old guy in ront o us. 1he guy had a strong smell o
whiskey and sweat, which might hae been why my ather had let that space.
I was liid. My 8-year-old mind couldn`t comprehend that an adult would behae so unairly. I tugged on my
ather`s sleee and said, 1hat lady just cut us! 1hat`s not air!`
My ather looked down at me and smiled that careree smile o his. le said, And that just means you`ll get
to stay up a little later tonight!`
At the time, I thought that was a great deal. Now I think it`s total bullshit.
Ater ie minutes that elt like 30, I pay or my items and hurry out to the parking lot. People are scattered
about, loading groceries in their cars, walking back and orth, chasing unruly toddlers. No one looks my way.
I approach the Volo. A quick glance tells me I am alone in the immediate area. I slip the sugar rom my bag
and casually dump most o it into the bitch`s gas tank. 1wo minutes later I am in my car, heading home, and
laughing like a giddy child.
lin
A412'%) 9!* 7 0'1.6 E+F1 7 9!%,'6GH<;% I%1)& 35* 9*-16
Stacy Juba is the author o the mystery noels 1revt,ire Year. .go 1oaa, and iv/ or riv ,Mainly Murder
Press,, as well as the patriotic children's picture book 1be tag Keeer. She is a reelance writer and ormer
daily newspaper reporter with more than a dozen writing awards to her credit, including three New Lngland
Press Association awards and the American Cancer Society New Lngland Chapter`s Sword o lope Media
Award. ler young adult noel aceOff was published under her maiden name, Stacy Drumtra, when she was
18 years old.
Author website: http:,,www.stacyjuba.com,blog
Author blog: http:,,www.StacyJuba.com,blog
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2ay5hl
Copyright 2010 Stacy Juba
9!%,'6GH<;% I%1)& 35* 9*-16
Kris Langley stared at the bright newsprint lit up on the microilm reader. 1he top headline leaped o page
one. "Missing Barmaid Murdered." She squinted oer the story o Diana lerguson, a young woman ound
bludgeoned to death in the woods. In little oer a week, it would be the twenty-ith anniersary. A quarter o a
century ago, Diana must'e dressed and drien out as always. An eening like any other. By the end o the night,
she was dead, her lie extinguished like the other ictims on ate's hit list.
Most people had orgotten Diana by now. In the black and white yearbook photograph, she didn't smile.
Straight dark hair curtained her serious oal ace. Diana had her arms crossed on a table, slender ingers too
delicate to protect her rom a killer.
Kris lipped to a blank page in her notebook, scribbled "Diana lerguson" and stopped writing. Resurrecting
the tragedy in her "25 and 50 \ears Ago 1oday" column would catch readers` attention, but it seemed
inappropriate.
She jumped as Dex \agner, the seenty-year-old editor-in-chie o the revovt Dait, ^er., slapped a rolled-
up newspaper against someone`s desk. "Jacqueline, why the hell didn`t we hae this theater group eature 1he
lremont Community Players are in our own backyard."
Suppressing a grin, Kris swung around in her seat. She could use a distraction right about now. Dex waed
the competition paper in the air, red circles and slashes marking hal the page. In her three weeks as editorial
assistant, Kris had enjoyed Dex`s tantrums. So ar, none had been directed at her.
Managing Lditor Jacqueline McCormack tossed back her blonde ponytail, gathered in a tan abric scrunchie.
She owned a world class selection o ponytail holders that complemented her designer wardrobe. Kris couldn't
help thinking o her as a thirty-ie-year-old cheerleader. Corporate Barbie.
"\e ran a story last week in our entertainment section," Jacqueline said. "1hey got the idea rom us. Gosh,
Dex, are you trying to blind me with that underlining"
Dex paced to the oak booksheles and back to Jacqueline's neat desk. lis stomach bulged under a rumpled
gray suit and his wrists hung out o jacket sleees a couple inches too short. "I think we missed it."
"1rust me," Jacqueline said. "I put a headline on it mysel. \ou do read beyond the ront, don`t you, Dex"
Grumbling under his breath, Dex opened 1be Creater Revivgtov Mirror, a large daily that coered the ten
towns in their readership area and more. Kris saw another column ballooned in red marker.
le pressed his index inger against the lead paragraph, his penguin-patterned tie lapping as he stooped
orward. "\hat about the stabbing o that Miles kid \e should be talking to his amily and we haen't een
contacted them. lor Christ's sake, do I hae to keep track o eerything"
"Relax, I'm working on that," Bruce Patrick, the police and court reporter, said rom the doorway. le
swaggered oer and hopped onto the edge o Jacqueline's desk.
"I just got o the phone," he said. "1he parents are basket cases, but the siblings said I could come by
tonight. And it's an exclusie."
A 19-year-old college student had murdered his classmate, Scott Miles, in a ight that went too ar. Kris had
edited the obit, stomach queasy as she cut "beloed son and brother" out o the text. Dex insisted such phrases
only belonged in paid death notices.
Unlike the Diana lerguson case, there was no mystery to this homicide. Many young people had witnessed
the brawl, which started oer a girl. It had lingered in her memory, though, a teenage boy who went to a party
and let dead in an ambulance. Another indiidual singled out by ate, neer suspecting he had no uture. le
picked the wrong girl. lor that, he died.
Kris shuddered despite the heat in the newsroom. 1he amily members must eel like their world had spun
out o control. She remembered the grieing process well: walking around as i in warm Jell-O, arms and legs
heay, head diicult to hold up, and crying until numbness roze the tears. lorgetting had disturbed her the
most, slipping away into the calm relie o sleep, then jolting awake in cold horror.
Jacqueline's ponytail bounced in glee. "1hey'll talk" She turned to Bruce. "1erriic. lae you assigned a
photographer"
Bruce rested his notebook on his thigh. "\ou bet. I didn't mention the photos, but once we're there, I'm sure
they'll go along with it."
"Get two or three color shots or the ront," Jacqueline said, a lilt in her oice.
Kris abandoned her quiet corner o the newsroom and strode oer to the group. Bruce and Jacqueline had
neer suered tragedy in their lies, or they wouldn't act so blas.
No one noticed Kris`s presence. She spoke quickly, beore she lost her nere. "I know you want a good
story, but hae a little sympathy. Sending a photographer unannounced would be taking adantage o these poor
people."
ler co-workers regarded her with blank expressions.
"\hy" Bruce asked. "1he kids are o age. It`s not like we`re exploiting pre-schoolers."
"I they're initing a reporter into their home, they should realize we intend to play up the story," Jacqueline
said.
"1hey'll be emotional," Kris said. "A photographer will make them eel worse. 1he least you could do is
prepare them."
Jacqueline olded her arms, coering a horizontal row o gold buttons on her biscuit-colored blazer. "I'm
sure they expect it, but Bruce was smart in setting it up this way. I they hae doubts, they'll be more likely to say
yes once our sta has had a chance to deelop a rapport. I the pictures bother them, the amily can always
decline."
"1hey'll eel pressured," Kris said. "1hey hae enough to deal with right now. \ou`e got your exclusie.
\hy can't you just run photos o the boy who died"
"Kris, this is our job, not yours." Coldness had replaced Jacqueline's lilt. "1his paper tells it like it is. I you
can't accept that, then maybe you shouldn't work in a newsroom."
"Maybe you should treat your sources like human beings."
"\hy don't you stay out o things that don't concern you As I recall, you hae no news experience. I'm not
een sure why you were hired in the irst place." Jacqueline glared at Dex.
1hey all knew the answer to that. 1he preious editorial assistant had quit on Jacqueline's acation. Dex grew
impatient and placed a classiied ad. Kris admitted she preerred the dreaded our-to-midnight shit, and he hired
her on the spot. lis judgment wasn't good enough or Jacqueline, who had reminded him o the three-month
probation or all employees.
Dex's shaggy salt and pepper eyebrows curled downward. "Kris does ine. She's bright and talented. Gie her
a chance to learn." le glowered at Bruce. "Next time you're working on a hot story, check with me."
le stalked to his desk, leaing the others gaping ater him. ler neck and shoulder muscles tense, Kris
released a deep breath. She needed this job. Like it or not, she was stuck working with Barbie. "Sorry i I
oended you, Jacqueline. I just wanted to gie you another perspectie."
Jacqueline ignored her and gestured to Bruce. "Come on, let's discuss tomorrow's budget."
le snapped to attention and ollowed her into the conerence room. Jacqueline carried hersel with the
posture o a model, her back straight and an upward tilt to her chin. Jacqueline and her budget. Kris had once
asked Dex i the paper was in okay shape, money-wise. She`d assumed Jacqueline was obsessed with the editorial
department`s inances. Dex just laughed and said, "1hat`s news lingo or story line-up."
As others in the newsroom headed out, Kris drited back to the microilm machine and her research. ler
editors demanded eight historical acts per issue. Dex told her to play up light local lu as people liked seeing
their names in print, while Jacqueline said to emphasize hard news. Kris ound hersel trying to please them
both.
At irst, she had enjoyed exploring the older editions. lity years ago, chunky blocks o type took up the
ront page. Most articles came oer the wire and sta-written pieces had no bylines. Dex had explained how
reporters worked or "the paper" in those days, not or the recognition. But now i Kris spent too much time on
the machine, the scrolling o the ilm gae her motion sickness. 1he ocus leer didn't work right, so she'd press
her inger oer the tape, holding it in place.
lrowning, Kris stared at the bold black headline splashed aboe the subhead "$*-6 H*+,- J, H)%/*,'
0'1'% K**-&." lor the second time, she skimmed the article about Diana lerguson.
lRLMON1 - A 21-year-old cocktail waitress reported missing was ound bludgeoned to death Saturday
night in the woods behind the lremont State College baseball ield. Police hae identiied the ictim as Diana
Marie lerguson o 22 lutchins Circle.
lerguson, daughter o Irene and the late Joseph lerguson, had been missing or two days. She waited tables
at Rossi's Bar, and apparently let work early 1hursday night to meet riends at Campus Pizzeria on Robinson
Aenue, police said.
She was last seen alie shortly ater 9 p.m., when witnesses said she let the pizzeria with a ormer boyriend,
Jared Peyton, a senior at lremont State College.
A student discoered the body while walking in the woods. Police responded to a call at 11:30 p.m. and
remoed the body, which was wrapped in a garbage bag.
lerguson's car, a 195 Chey, was ound behind the ormer Salatore's Restaurant on Purchase Street. 1he
restaurant has been acant or a year.
According to Detectie Gerald lrank, lerguson had been hit in the head with a blunt object. Police beliee
she was killed at another location. 1here were no traces o sexual assault, police said.
"She wanted to be an artist," said her sister, Cheryl Soares, a substitute teacher at lremont ligh School. "She
had all these plans. Diana was such a good person. I can't beliee she's dead."
According to Soares, her sister had been due back 1hursday at midnight and neer stayed out late without
calling. By 2 a.m., her mother grew worried, telephoning riends and co-workers.
lerguson is suried by her mother, sister, seeral aunts, uncles and a nephew. luneral arrangements are
incomplete and under the direction o the Bellwood luneral lome. Police are inestigating the case. lrank says
he does not recall any other murders in the history o the town.
Dex cleared his throat rom behind Kris. "Sorry you dislike the pictures o that kid`s amily, but most readers
want this. It sells papers."
Rubbing her blurry eyes, she turned to ace him. Another month o poring oer old news stories and she`d
need reading glasses.
"I realize I'm in the minority," she said. "1hanks or sticking up or me. I don't think Jacqueline is too
happy."
"Miss ligh and Mighty will get oer it. Let me know i she gies you a hard time." Leaning orward, Dex
read oer her shoulder. le had pulled o his suit jacket and rolled up his sleees. "Is that the lerguson case
low the hell did you dig this up Christ, has it been twenty-ie years already"
"\ou remember it"
"\ho do you think coered the story"
Kris peered up into his grizzled ace. "\ou're kidding."
"Reporters swarmed the scene. 1he cops brought us back to the police station and issued a statement. I was
ticked o because Saturday's paper had gone to press and we didn't hae a Sunday edition back then. \e got
scooped by the Ctobe, the erata and the 1V guys on our own territory."
Dex touched the irst line o the article, his palm shadowing the light. Lier spots stamped his swollen
knuckles. "I'll neer orget how the editor changed my lead, calling her a twenty-one-year-old cocktail waitress.
And then that headline, 'Missing Barmaid Murdered.' It put a negatie slant on her. I made them take o my
byline."
"\asn't this a big story"
"\eah, but my daughter, Sadie, knew Diana in elementary school. Diana used to bring her dad to ather-
daughter banquets. She was shy, but she'd jabber when her dad was there. Used to amaze Sadie."
Kris stared at Diana's photograph. "Did Diana stay shy as she got older As a teenager"
"I don't know. Sadie went to lremont Catholic so the girls lost touch." Dex combed a inger through his
mussed white hair."It was tough calling Diana's house ater the murder. ler mother was a wreck, couldn't get
out a word without crying. Diana's sister took the phone away and gae a comment. I told her I'd known Diana
as a little girl. 1he sister trusted me."
"Did the police sole the murder"
"Nope. lor a long time, the mother would run an obit page ad on Diana's birthday.I can almost remember it
word or word. It said something about how lie would neer be the same without her, but that Diana`s soul and
spirit would lie on. She wrote that the amily wouldn`t gie up until justice preailed. It was the same boxed ad
eery year."
"It`s amazing the desperate measures that will make you eel better," Kris murmured. "It`s like the riends
and relaties who leae wooden crosses and lowers at an accident scene. \ou can`t demonstrate your loe to the
person directly, so you ind other ways."
Silence dropped oer them, not awkward, but Kris didn`t know how to ill it. Dex scrutinized her with the
intensity o a lielong journalist. "low you doing, Kid \ou like this job Len the nutty hours"
Kris gae him a rueul grin. Something about Dex made it easy or her to open up. "1hat's the best part. It`s
so quiet. Plus working late makes the night go aster. I'll go home, read or do housework, then go to bed around
6 a.m. I hae trouble sleeping at night."
"Insomnia 1hat's too bad. Ler tried medication"
"Nothing helps."
"Don't let Jacqueline work you too hard. Make sure you take a dinner break." Dex rustled his New Lngland
Patriots jacket o a plastic hanger in the closet.
"ley, Dex Is it okay i I don`t put the lerguson case in my column I know it ought to be included, but I`m
worried about Diana`s amily seeing it. I the mother stopped running those ads, maybe she`s inally come to
terms with it."
le stued his arms into the coat and shrugged. "lell, I`m probably getting to be a sotie in my old age, but I
don`t see the sense o dredging it up either. Not or a blurb in the 25 \ears Ago 1oday` column."
"1hanks, Dex. lae a good weekend."
Kris reached oer and straightened the pile o obits and press releases on her desk, right beside the microilm
machine. She`d better inish up with her historical anecdotes and get back to the present. 1en obits had trickled
in ia e-mail. 1he 11 p.m. deadline would sneak up ast.
Dex hadn't exaggerated when he'd warned that the sta would consider her the newsroom slae, asking her
to handle a ie-page Department o Public \orks announcement or the next edition, or answer their
telephones i they went to the bathroom. She also hadn't expected such a demanding public. People complained
about ront-page stories, police logs and crossword puzzles that had wrong answers in the solution box.
\et poor as the pay was, and despite her lowly status, Kris loed her new job. ler old one, as administratie
assistant or a Manhattan inestments irm, had exhausted her. She'd neer slept well, but oer the past six
months it had gotten much worse. At night, Kris would bury her head in the pillow, unable to drown out the
cars, yells and sirens outside her Morningside leights apartment.
It was either be a zombie, or come home to quiet lremont, Massachusetts.
"1hat was quite a scene you made." Bruce, the cop reporter, leaned against her desk and the obits slid to the
loor.
le enjoyed the women in the ront oice raing about his "bedroom" eyes and russet gold hair, but Kris
couldn't stomach his annoying cockiness. Besides, she`d bet a month`s salary that his ibrant blue eyes were
courtesy o Bausch & Lomb.
Bruce made no eort to collect the papers. "I'e neer seen you talk to anyone like that." le winked. "In our
short acquaintance, anyway. \e'll know each other better soon."
"I was just expressing my opinion." She bent to gather the scattered sheets.
"\ou're a passionate gal."
Kris rose and blocked the microilm reader with her back. She didn`t want Bruce getting wind o Diana
lerguson. le probably wouldn`t care anyway, but Kris elt protectie o Diana somehow. She adjusted the heap
o paperwork on her oerburdened desk. "I hope this disagreement doesn't come back to haunt me with
Jacqueline."
"Don't worry. I she's pissed at anyone, it's Dex. Is the old man driing you crazy yet"
"I like him. le acts crusty, but i you look past that, he's a sweetheart."
"Sweetheart Dex" Bruce chuckled. "\ou're gonna ind that dear old Dex is past his prime."
I Kris had to waste precious minutes talking to Bruce, she may as well ish or inormation. "\hat's the deal
with Dex and Jacqueline I don't get who's in charge. I thought he oersaw the day shit and Jacqueline the
night, but I heard she's always here. \ho has inal control"
"Jacqueline's top dog, although Dex tends to orget it. She and I worked together at a weekly on the South
Shore. She came here six months ago and called me when a reporting job opened."
"I didn't know you two had worked together," Kris said.
1hat explained why Bruce and Jacqueline meshed. Other reporters griped about the managing editor.
1ension drained out o the newsroom on 1uesdays, Jacqueline's night o.
"She was my editor," Bruce said. "Listen, don't take Jacqueline personally. She'd sleep in the newsroom i
they let her, and expects eeryone else to do the same. She was married to her job more than her husband. Now
they're getting diorced."
"1hat's too bad. Do they hae children"
Bruce snorted. "Jacqueline Neer. She won't admit it, but she's stressed out about this job, too. A daily was
a big step. Dex is another pain in her ass. Jacqueline has ull editorial control, but the company allowed Dex to
keep his title. 1emporarily."
"\hat do you mean"
"1he publisher's pushing him to retire, and Dex said he'd consider it within the year. But the year's oer. I
the old man doesn't smarten up and leae on his own, they're gonna orce him out."
Kris gazed at Dex's desk with its dogeared towers o revovt Dait, ^er. issues. le'd told her that he had
started as a paper boy. le lied and breathed the news business.
"1hat's awul," she said. "At least he has a chance to keep his dignity. I hope Dex takes it."
"Don't gie management any credit. 1hey're just bridging the transition. 1here's a bunch o senior citizens
who read the paper and don't want to see changes."
"Poor Dex."
"Poor us. \e'e got to listen to his complaining. \ant to blow this place and get something to eat I hae
time beore my police rounds."
Bruce lirted with eery woman at the paper. No sense eeling lattered.
"I can't leae," Kris said. "1oo many obits."
"low about lunch Monday beore work"
She hesitated.
"Come on, it's not a date," Bruce said. "I'll ill you in on eeryone. I'e got all kinds o gossip. \hat do you
say"
Kris knew she could use an introduction to the oddities o the sta. Already, he'd proided an eye-opener.
"Okay, sounds good."
le watched her with amusement. "\ou'll be glad you said yes, darling."
Darling Oh, please.
She waited till he let, then rewound the microilm to a date shortly ater Diana lerguson had disappeared.
1he paper had run a description o Diana and a police telephone number. Kris turned o the machine.
1he yearbook picture remained imprinted in her mind. She`d read many articles about murder ictims oer
the years, but Diana lerguson`s story aected her more than usual. She had a sense that Diana was
misunderstood.
Kris knew that eeling well.
lin
A412'%) 94)%% 7 E+-6 3('%) 7 L1''<%
Judy Alter is an award-winning writer o iction or adults and young adults. lor much o her career, she
ocused on the experiences o women in the American \est, such as Mattie. ler work has been recognized
with Spur Awards rom \estern \riters o America, \estern leritage ,\rangler, Awards rom the National
Cowboy Museum and lall o lame, and the Owen \ister Lietime Achieement Award rom \estern
\riters America. She was recently inducted into the 1exas Literary lall o lame. She was named an
Outstanding \oman o lort \orth by the Mayor`s Committee on \omen and one o the 100 women, liing
or dead, who hae let their mark on 1exas.
A past president o the \estern \riters o America, she is a member o Sisters in Crime and the Guppies chapter. 1he
single parent o our now-grown children, she has seen grandchildren and lies in lort \orth, 1exas, with her Australian
shepherd and a long-haired, elderly cat.
Author website: http:,,www.judyalter.com
Author blog: http:,,www.judys-stew.blogspot.com
Amazon.com book page: http:,,tinyurl.com,24hqjc
lirst published by Doubleday, New \ork, 1988
Copyright 1988 Judy Alter
L1''<%
My mother was an unmarried mother, allen woman, they called her back in Princeton, Missouri. 1hey called
her that and a lot worse names, most o which I didn`t understand at the time, thank goodness. It wasn`t just that
Mama made one mistake-me-but I had a little brother, \ill lenry, and neither o us had a ather that we
knew about. \ill lenry was seen years younger than me, and you`d think I`d remember a man being around
the house about that time to account or my brother`s appearance, but I didn`t. I used to wonder i Mama had
somehow gotten caught in the great war just passed or i my ather had ought in that war. lor much o my
growing-up years, Mama neer told us i we had the same ather or not. \hen either o us asked, Mama became
lustered and impatient and usually just said, I don`t want to talk about it.` 1here would be tears in her eyes that
made me eel guilty and cruel, so I would abandon the subject.
But Mama`s status caused both o us a lot o grie. I can still remember trips to the store or whateer small
bit o staples Mama could aord. Other kids would tease, \here`s your ather` Ain`t you heard She ain`t got
none.` \ou know what that makes her mama.` I neer did learn to ignore those taunts. I`d turn bright red and
eel mysel tense up as I headed or home instead o completing my errand. Sometimes Mama sent me to collect
ironing. 1aking in ironing was one way she made a little money or us, and I can still see her heating that sad iron
oer the stoe, then struggling to press its weight down just right on some sheer and wonderul dress that
belonged to a rich lady in town.
\e lied in a two-room wooden shack, two rooms only because Mama hung a rayed blanket kind o in the
middle to separate the cooking area rom the sleeping area, and we three slept in the same bed, all the time until I
let home at the age o ourteen. But that`s getting ahead o my story.
Mama also took in sewing, and that`s how I met the Canary amily. One day I had to go with Mama to it a
dress on Mary Jane, the daughter, who was just about my age. \ill lenry was a toddler then, and Mama let him
with someone else, heaen only knows at this point who it might hae been. But she dressed me up the best she
could, een ironing my patched cotton dress, and taking great care with her own appearance, wearing a worn
lannel dress in subdued gray. She had cleerly redone it to hide the worst spots and had een added a small
white rule at the neck. I you didn`t look too closely, she seemed as well dressed as the next grand lady.
Least the patches are neat, Mattie. \e want them to know that I sew a ine seam and that I hae some taste
in clothes, don`t we`
\es, Mama.` I was always ready to agree with her when Mama was happy, like she was that day.
La, child, this may be the beginning o a better lie or us. 1he Canarys may take a liking to my work and
maybe to you, and that would . . . well, it might make things easier.` She laughed and tied her bonnet in a
lourishing bow. Being less than ten, I belieed Mama that it could all be true. I hadn`t yet learned to be skeptical
about Mama`s new beginnings and search or my own.
\e were both in high spirits as we set out. Mama was still a beautiul woman, with pale brown hair and high
cheekbones that maybe came rom a not too remote Indian ancestor, but she was beginning already to look tired
and worn out. I guess she must hae been near thirty then. Still, tired or not, she drew looks as we walked down
the dirt road and crossed the tracks to the right` side o town.
On the other hand, I must hae resembled my unknown ather, or at the least that Indian ancestor, or I had
none o Mama`s prettiness. 1all or my age and skinny, I was an awkward, angular child with coarse dark hair
which I wore pulled back so that it emphasized my high cheekbones and dark eyes. I used to dream about that
unknown Indian in the amily background and imagine that my Indian looks were mysterious.
Little kids didn`t tease me when I was with Mama, but they were only slightly more discreet about their
curiosity. I saw them pointing and staring, but there was no way I could run and hide, so I marched right along
beside Mama, wishing the earth would open and swallow me.
Isn`t it a grand day, Mattie`
\es, Mama, it sure is.`
\hat would you most like to do today`
\ell, maybe mend that doll o mine . . .`
Oh, iddle, Mattie, let your imagination go. Choose something that we probably can`t do.`
I didn`t hesitate at all. I`d like to hitch up a horse and buggy and leae here . . . oreer!`
Mama looked alarmed. Mattie, why 1his is our home now.`
Now \asn`t it always`
Ler since you can remember, baby. But not always or me.` She had a wistul look on her ace, and I
wondered again about Mama, where she had come rom, who her own mama was and all those questions she
neer would answer. In a way, I was cut o rom my own roots, or we had no relaties in Princeton, Missouri,
not een any riends. Somewhere, I guessed, Mama had a amily, but there was no contact between them, and i
it bothered Mama, she rarely let on.
Because o the lilt in her oice and her genteel ways, I thought Mama came rom the South, and that made
me think o the war again. Mama,` I asked hesitantly, where are . . . well, where did you come rom`
Not here, child,` she said, laughing, certainly not here. But it was a long way away and a long time ago. I
don`t want to talk about it.`
I could guess that Mama`s amily must hae been pretty rich, because my own piddling amount o schooling
by then had shown me that Mama had had a lot o education. She had one or two books-a copy o
Shakespeare and some books o poems that she read aloud to me sometimes. Mostly then, I didn`t understand
them, but I listened because it seemed important to Mama and seemed somehow to calm and soothe her to read
those big words about things that were beyond me. I was, you might say, a tractable child.
And somewhere Mama surely had learned to sew a ine seam. ler handwork was as neat and tiny as any I`e
seen to this day, and she had an eye or good lace, ine materials and well-cut dresses.
1hat, o course, was what had brought us out that day. \e arried at the Canary home, which looked like a
mansion to me, big and white and neat and clean, with blooming lowers in the ront and a white picket ence,
reshly painted all the way around. It was a two-story house with a gabled roo, lots o windows and een a
balcony with a railing below and gingerbread decoration at the top. lrom outside, you could see heay drapes
pulled back or the day at eery window.
Golly gee Ned!` I exclaimed as we started up the brick walk to the dark wood ront door with its huge brass
knocker.
Mattie, hush. 1ry to act like you go in houses eery day that are just like this or maybe een grander.`
But I don`t,` I protested. I`e neer seen anything like this.` O course, I had seen big houses, this ery
one, on my one or two entures into the other side o town. But I didn`t take exploratory trips ery oten
because o all the teasing. And I neer, eer thought I would go into a house like that. I remember today, clear as
eer, that awestruck eeling, like my stomach was going to all right down to my toes or else come up through
my throat.
Mama acted like she`d been in houses like this all her lie, and maybe she had. Mrs. Canary I`e come to it
dresses or Mary Jane.`
1he Canary amily may hae elt they were the grandest olk in Princeton, but nobody there had a maid, and
Mrs. Canary opened the door hersel. \ears later I wished, nastily, that the lady could hae known how ar rom
being grand she really was. Somehow, liing in places like Missouri and Nebraska, some o us got notions o
grandness that were out o kilter with the rest o the world. \e accepted as grand things that were really mighty
small, like ine urniture and big houses. \et there`s another kind o grand out here . . . But back to Mary Jane.
Mrs. Canary let us into a air-sized entry hall, with a straight staircase carpeted in red. By peeking, I could see
a parlor to one side o the hall and a dining room to the other. 1he urniture all looked new-elet, I suppose
-and eerything was ery neat, like nobody lied there. 1he tabletops were marble and bare, except or one gilt-
ramed photograph, presumably Mr. and Mrs. Canary as newlyweds. 1he soas and chairs had wood trim and
looked awully uncomortable. 1here were antimacassars eerywhere and a lowered carpet on the loor. I
thought a minute about our crowded shack, with Mama`s sewing lung here and there, and my pitiul doll, with
which I was now too big to play but which still sat on the bed each day. 1he Canary house made me cold inside.
Mary Jane hung oer the railing at the top o the stairs, smiling like a cherub and wearing a blue satin dress
with a huge white collar, her blond hair done in sausage curls. I was acutely aware o my patched cotton and tried
to aoid looking at her, but as soon as Mama turned her back, Mary Jane stuck her tongue out at me. I would
neer hae been brae enough to do that.
Mama saw the tongue, though, and reached out or my hand, holding it tight and smiling at Mrs. Canary,
who led us upstairs to what she called the sewing room. I couldn`t see that anybody did much sewing there,
except maybe or the pincushion with a ew needles in it and some spools o thread next to it.
Mama got right to work, measuring Mary Jane, who stood like she thought she was some kind o princess,
smiling down at her serants rom the ootstool on which she stood. I longed to kick the stool out rom under
her, but I pretended to busy mysel looking out the window.
I wouldn`t want the dress too long, Mrs. . . .`
Armstrong,` Mama supplied calmly. O course not. A girl her age doesn`t need a long dress, do you, Mary
Jane`
Mary Jane disagreed. I won`t dress like a baby. I need my dresses lots longer than this one you made me
wear today.`
Mary Jane . . .`
I will not!`
Very well, dear. Mrs. Armstrong . . .` She hesitated again, as though it stuck in her throat to call Mama
Mrs.` \e`ll let her hae her way.`
I had a sneaking suspicion Mary Jane always got her way, and years later I remembered that scene and
thought probably all her troubles started right there.
Mama inished measuring and helped Mary Jane down rom the stool, then asked Mrs. Canary or the abric
she wanted used, and they busied themseles in a corner, looking at material and discussing the best way to cut
it. Mary Jane sidled oer to me to whisper, I don`t like haing a bastard in my house.`
lortunately, I didn`t know what the word meant, but I knew well enough that I had been insulted, and pretty
royally, too. I it were today, there are lots o things I would hae done, but I just stood there, studying the
lower in the carpet at my toes, and muttered, I don`t like being here either.` I really think Mary Jane considered
kicking me-she turned to see i her mother was looking-but I moed away beore she could turn back.
I told Mama what she`d said on the way home, and Mama was indignant. \hy, that awul girl! I`ll neer sew
another stitch or her, not eer!`
\hat does bastard mean, Mama`
Neer you mind. It`s just not a nice thing to call a person.`
I had guessed by then. It had something to do with all those questions about where my ather was, questions
Mama wouldn`t answer. And now she wouldn`t explain the word to me.
O course, Mama did sew or Mary Jane, made her a bunch o dresses, but it neer turned out to be the new
beginning she expected. 1he Canarys were miserly about paying and picky about the work she did, not that
Mama`s work was imperect. But they would change their minds about a sleee or a collar ater Mama got a dress
made, and then they`d claim it was all her ault. Mama neer said anything, or we needed the little money they
paid, but I elt sorry or her that the relationship didn`t turn out like she enisioned. \e were neer inited to
tea.
1hings went on without any big change or quite a while ater Mama started sewing or the Canarys. \ill
lenry grew bigger all the time, and pretty soon he had to endure school with me. 1easing neer did seem to
bother him like it did me, and I oten thought he just wasn`t bright enough to understand what other kids were
saying. le seemed to take it all as a compliment.
1hey like me at school, Mattie, they really do.`
1hat`s good, \ill lenry. low do you know`
Oh, they laugh with me all the time and call things to me.`
I loed that little boy, and it made me sad to hear his story. At least, I guessed it was better i it didn`t make
him sad. But eery time something like that happened, either to him or to me, I resoled that I would get een
when I grew up. Course, I neer did, but timid child that I was, reenge burned pure in my heart, and I hated.
I neer did know i Mama got teased or anything because she neer talked about it and always acted like she
was the grandest lady in town. Some days Mama didn`t eel too good and spent the day in bed. 1hose were the
days I would run errands or people, etching a bag o sugar rom the store or taking a notice to the weekly
journal oice, all to earn a little money or us. Some days I had to skip school between trying to grab a ew
pennies and taking care o Mama, but I usually kept up in my schoolwork.
\ou see, Mama`s next new beginning was a real bad one. By the time I was twele or so, I was aware that she
was tired a lot. She not only had to rest much o the time, but she looked tired, with great dark circles under her
eyes. And her cheeks were the brightest pink I`d eer seen. Sometimes she`d be burning up with eer, and I`d sit
and wipe her orehead with a wet cloth.
Once when I was sitting with her, I remember asking quite clearly, Mama, tell me about my ather.`
She was tired and the question made her cross. \hy, Mattie le`s no one you`ll eer know.`
But can`t I know about him`
It wouldn`t make you proud,` she said, turning away with a tear. 1o this day, I wonder i maybe she married
a Northern sympathizer who moed her to Missouri, let to ind his ortune out \est and only came back long
enough to ather \ill lenry. It was another o my antasies, but a less appealing one than some others. I neer
asked Mama about it again.
I was getting a little tougher. I didn`t run or home anymore when I was teased, and I didn`t turn red in the
ace. But I hadn`t yet gotten to the point o talking back, which, in my ignorance, I thought would be the
pinnacle o growth. 1here was one boy, 1ommy lawkes, who was particularly mean and een threw a rotten
apple at me one day. I used to think it would be the greatest satisaction in the world to rub his ace in the mud. I
don`t know, maybe it would hae been, but I neer did get the chance. And I was still aguely ashamed o
something about Mama that I didn`t completely understand but that I knew had to do with me and \ill lenry
and that Northern soldier o my antasy.
Mr. Reees came into our lies about that time. le was a big, handsome, happy man, the irst man I had
eer had a chance to be around or know well, mind you, and it was a new experience or me. I was tongue-tied
most o the time.
\ell, Mattie, what`s new today`
Nothing.`
Come on, now. Did you go to school`
No, sir.`
\hy not Lery girl your age needs to be in school.` lis huge hands clasped together, he announced this
solemnly.
Mama didn`t eel too well, and I had to do some errands.`
lis ace was real serious. I know your mama`s not eeling well. \e`re going to hae to do something about
that.`
I don`t know where Mama ound Mr. Reees. le was a drummer, as they called salesmen back then, and he
sold all kinds o kitchen products to eery small town in northern Missouri. But he had been a armer and a rier
boatman and all kinds o things, and I began to suspect there wasn`t anything he couldn`t do. le was a big man,
and rom those days, I remember most his wide grin. \hen his sales brought him to Princeton, which seemed to
be more and more oten, he spent his time with us, and under his hand our little shack began to be sturdier and
to look a little better. le nailed up loose boards, chinked in spaces where the cold wind whistled in winter, and
nearly rebuilt the tiny ront stoop, part o which was rotting away. le brought abric or Mama to make new and
bright curtains, and he illed our kitchen with more pots and pans than we could eer hae ood to ill.
But we ate better, too, and I began to eel Mr. Reees must be rich. le brought all kinds o things we rarely
i eer had, like beesteak, which he must hae bartered rom someone, and resh egetables that he bought
rom someone else`s garden, and lots o staples rom the store-coee and tea, which usually were too dear or
Mama to buy, and pieces o horehound, which were an unheard-o luxury or \ill lenry and me. Lie was
sweet, and or a while Mama began to get better.
And the brightest thing in my lie was that I had a job. I was to baby-sit eery aternoon or the doctor and
his wie, so the wie could hae a rest. 1he Dinsmores lied in a comortable, clean house, not as grand and
rightening as the Canarys but more like what I thought a home should be-great, comortable chairs, books to
read and window seats where you could sit and watch the rain. 1hey had only one child, three-year-old Sara, and
she was nice as babies go, about as nice as \ill lenry had been, so I had no trouble with her. She played, and I
like as not spent the aternoon with only one eye on her and the other on a book I had ound in the sheles. Dr.
Dinsmore liked that, and next to Mr. Reees, I thought he was the grandest man eer. 1he schoolmaster, a Mr.
\est, who rapped people`s knuckles with a ruler and made us memorize long, dull passages o poetry, went
rapidly downhill in my mind.
Reading again, Mattie` Dr. Dinsmore stood there, thumbs hooked under his suspenders, looking, I
thought, ery grand with his mustache and dark suit. le was not a tall man but so thin and wiry that he gae the
impression o height and strength.
Oh, yes, sir, but I was watching Sara real careully.`
I`m sure you were. It`s all right. I was just glad to see someone using the books. \hat are you reading`
I showed him a copy o Paveta and asked i he knew the story.
\es, Mattie, I know the story.` \as there laughter hidden in his oice I`m not sure your schoolmaster
would approe o you reading noels, but you go right ahead.` le walked oer to the sheles and appeared to
study or a moment, then said, \hen you`re through with that, you might want to try this.` le handed me a
copy o ire !ee/. iv a attoov, by Jules Verne. \ou`re ree to take it home as long as you`re sure to return it.`
I was astounded. Not only did he not think I was lazy or reading when I should hae been playing with little
Sara, but he gae me another book to read. And he would let me take it home.
I airly lew home, ignoring the darkening and dingy streets o our part o Princeton. Mama` -I burst in
the door- Dr. Dinsmore let me borrow a book.` Caution came to me too late, and I hastened to add, O
course, I won`t read when you need me.`
I neer knew how Mama would react, though lately since Mr. Reees had been around, she was more
predictable. Still, there was always the chance she`d start on about how I could do more errands, try to earn
another nickel or two or help out with \ill lenry, who was really big enough to take care o himsel, or so I
thought. But she surprised me this time.
Let me see it, Mattie. Oh, Jules Verne. I read that, a long time ago.` She got that araway look in her eyes.
It`s a good book. \ou`ll like it.`
Later, when Mr. Reees came, she said brightly, Mattie`s reading Jules Verne`s book about his balloon trip.
Dr. Dinsmore let her bring it home.`
\ell, now, isn`t that ine! Course, I don`t know next to nothing about books, neer could read much, and I
ain`t heard o that one, but I know it`s important or a young person to get all the education they can. \ou go
right on and read, Mattie, and I`ll help your ma.` le patted me on the head, and as I looked up, I saw Mama gie
him a long sideways look. I wasn`t sure what it meant, but I read a little hurt and disappointment in her ace.
Dr. Dinsmore continued to be my unoicial tutor. le and Mrs. Dinsmore got so they liked each other less
and less, at least that`s how it appeared to me. 1hey neer argued. I`d een heard Mama and Mr. Reees raise
their oices some, but the Dinsmores were always coldly polite. I knew he wasn`t that way by nature, or he
would get down on the loor and play with Sara, laughing and tossing her in the air until she giggled almost out
o control. \heneer Mrs. Dinsmore saw this happen, she`d say, Arthur, you`ll damage the child.` And he`d
say, Stu and nonsense. Little roughhousing neer hurt anyone.`
Mrs. Dinsmore was blond and pretty like Mama, only her eyes were kind o an ice-cold blue, and her lips
were tight, een when they smiled. She neer had the laughter that sometimes welled up rom Mama, and she
looked worse in her ine clothes than Mama did in her patched and worn dresses.
Big as I was then, almost thirteen years old, I was only beginning to know the acts o lie, as they are called.
I had an inkling, though, that it took a great liking, een loe, between two people to make a baby. I wasn`t really
sure about loe-heaen knows, hae any o us eer learned-and I wondered a lot about that mysterious man
Mama liked or loed well enough to hae two babies with, but I also wondered about the Dinsmores. 1hey
didn`t seem to like each other well enough to make a baby.
Mrs. Dinsmore was nice to me, though not as riendly as he was, and I sensed she didn`t approe o my
reading program. She`d say, Reading again, Mattie Don`t ruin your eyes with all that study,` or \hy don`t you
take Sara outside 1oo much indoors is neer good or youngsters, een as big as you are.` But she continued to
pay me regularly, and sometimes they asked me to stay to supper, which was a treat, because there was much
more ood and better kinds o it than Mama could aord, less greens and cornbread and red beans and more
meat and potatoes. I ate heartily on those nights.
Mattie, child, are you hungry`
Not really,` I would lie. I didn`t want to say that I was kind o storing up, like a squirrel putting away nuts
or the winter. It`s just that it tastes so good.`
\ell, here, hae another helping o meat loa.`
And I would eat away. It`s a wonder I didn`t get at as a piglet in those days, but I suspect all that ood made
up or what had been a sparseness in my diet. Lots o times, I`d sneak extra pieces o meat in my napkin to take
home to \ill lenry, especially during the times Mr. Reees was out o town and there was less ood on our
table. I suspect the Dinsmores would gladly hae gien me ood or \ill lenry, but I was too proud to ask.
I oerheard them talking one night ater I had stayed or supper and, as a way o thanks, had olunteered to
bathe Sara and get her ready or bed. She was running around her room, stitch-stark naked, giggling up a storm,
and I stepped out to get a towel to wrap her in. 1hey were at the oot o the stairs, and I could hear them talk
without haing to go anywhere nearer the banister.
I suppose she doesn`t eat right at home,` Mrs. Dinsmore said in that slightly disapproing tone.
Probably not. It`s a marelous thing i we can eed both her body and her mind.`
\e`re not running a charity house, you know.`
Come now, Lmma, that child doesn`t take one thing rom us. She gies us laughter and loe or Sara, which
the child sorely needs, and she brings me happiness.` It was one o the ew times I heard him criticize his wie,
een obliquely.
1here was no answer rom Mrs. Dinsmore, and I didn`t know enough to realize how signiicant that was.
Poor woman. I neer could igure out why she was so sti and cool and how Dr. Dinsmore ended up with her.
But the act that they had such an armed truce gae him lots o extra time to spend with Sara, and he spent
some o it with me. \e were both glad or his company, een though he seemed preoccupied a lot o the time.
Dr. Dinsmore had unusual ideas or a physician, een back in those days when medicine wasn`t regulated much.
le hadn`t gone to medical school, o course-ew men did, and medical schools were so unregulated that you
might learn more harmul things there than good. le had simply read medicine by ollowing an old country
physician around somewhere in northeast Missouri. 1here was a doctor oer there in a small town named
Kirksille who had announced that he had a new approach to medicine. Name was Still, and it seemed that he
elt medical practice as he knew it wasn`t helping people, matter o act, he thought it killed two o his children.
So he went about it in a new way, saying that the body was naturally healthy and the physician`s job was to aid
that process, not hinder it. One thing he adocated was ery little medicine. \ell, Dr. Dinsmore belieed in that,
and he`d sit and talk to me about it at night. O course, at that age I didn`t understand much, but I was lattered
he wanted to talk, and I listened.
God wouldn`t hae inented a aulty machine, Mattie. \e were meant to be healthy and not to be taking a
draught to sleep and another to straighten our bowels and another to ward o colds. \e need to get all that out
o our systems and keep our bodies in good shape, like good machines.`
I didn`t know much about machinery, so the comparison was a little odd to me, but I went along with Dr.
Dinsmore`s idea that we should keep our bodies healthy. O course, all the walking I did back and orth to the
Dinsmores to school and on Mama`s errands kept me pretty well exercised. But I thought about Mama, cooped
up in that little shack all day.
By that time, Mama`s health was really poor again. 1he last time she had gone to the store hersel, instead o
sending me, she had come home exhausted, out o breath and nearly aint. Seems she had only gone because I
was at Dinsmores, and my heart lurched in ear at the possibility that I would hae to quit Dinsmore`s and stay
home to be more help to Mama.
Mama, I would hae gone to the store or you.`
\ou weren`t here.` She sounded a little like a spoiled child.
But I`d hae come back. \ou mustn`t tire yoursel out.`
I`ll just rest awhile and you ix the supper, Mattie. 1hen I`ll be all right. I don`t know what`s the matter with
me.`
I didn`t know either, but I did know that her cheeks were eerish red again, her skin pale, and pretty oten
she had a bad cough. I guess Mr. Reees knew only too well what was wrong, because he made some startling
announcements the next time he isited.
le arried late one night, ater \ill lenry and I were asleep, and we didn`t see him till we sat sleepily at the
breakast table, with Mama stirring a big pot o oatmeal with much more igor than usual.
\our ma and I are going to get married,` he announced. 1oday.`
I looked quick at Mama, but she was still busy with the oatmeal, and I couldn`t tell i she was happy about
this or not. Ater a minute`s thought, I decided I was happy. It would, I thought, make lie easier or her, and
that in turn would make things easier or me. I guess kids always hae a way o relating eerything to themseles.
I should hae known better, or his next words tore my world apart.
\e`ll all be leaing or the \est soon as we can get going. I used to arm once back a long time ago, and
I`m gonna do it again, because your mama`s got to get out o this Missouri climate beore it kills her.`
Mama stirred harder, and I bit my lip. Moe Not that I was so ond o Princeton-there was a time when
my dream was to leae-but now I had the Dinsmores, and I didn`t want to leae them and all the opportunity
they represented to me. \ill lenry, meanwhile, was jumping with joy, and I could hae crowned him.
\est!` he shouted. \here west \ill there be Indians Cowboys`
\hoa,` Mr. Reees laughed. \e`ll go someplace ciilized, or at least as close as we can get.`
I suppose Mama had the same ision o a white cottage with a picket ence and a great sweeping ield o
wheat or corn that I did. It turned out things were to be ery dierent, and Mama might as well hae stayed in
Princeton, but none o us knew that. Mr. Reees loed her, he really did, and he was doing what he thought was
best. le really wanted to settle Mama in a comortable home instead o a shack and gie her the kind o lie she
apparently had known as a child. I think he thought he could restore her health by improing her lie, but he was
too late. \ho knows Maybe i he had come earlier, she neer would hae gotten sick.
Meanwhile, I was ighting my conscience. I it was good or Mama, I should be glad to go, but I was eeling
mighty selish, wanting to stay in Princeton so I could read the rest o the books in Dr. Dinsmore`s library. I
suspected that we would leae pretty quickly-and I was right-and I neer could read ast enough to make any
progress at all.
\ill lenry and I went to school, with him talking nonstop about our big moe and telling eery kid in the
schoolyard. 1hey all snickered and said things like, le`s gonna marry your mother` in incredulous tones. I
could hae kicked \ill lenry but I kept my silence, lost in my own problems. 1hat aternoon I was slow
walking to the Dinsmores and late getting there.
Mattie, whateer is the matter with you Looks like you`e lost your best riend.`
I don`t hae a best riend,` I muttered unpleasantly, een though I knew he was trying to be helpul.
All right, Mattie, I know that.` Dr. Dinsmore turned serious. \hat`s the matter`
\e`re leaing Princeton,` I blurted out, the whole story then tumbling rom my lips in a rush.
Leaing Princeton` le asked it as though he was not at all surprised. las your mother . . . I mean, can
she . . . well, Mattie, what I`m trying to say is, how will your mother take care o you and \ill lenry somewhere
else And where are you going`
Dr. Dinsmore had neer been critical o Mama, like the rest o Princeton, and I was grateul. I knew what he
said now was simply straightorward truth.
\e`re going out west. I don`t know where, but Mama is going to marry Mr. Reees, and he says or her
health we hae to take her out west.`
le`s right, o course. I told her she needed to go two years ago, but she said there was no way.`
I don`t guess there was until Mr. Reees came along.`
\ell, Mattie, I think this is good news, but you still look like you`e lost your best riend.`
Oh no, I`m real pleased.` I had to bite my lip to keep rom crying, and I sank down into one o the great
big, comortable chairs in the library. \hy didn`t he, one o the ew people I trusted and cared about, see how
bad this was Right then Dr. Dinsmore taught me a lesson: I you don`t take matters into your own hands,
nothing good happens.
I don`t think you want to go,` he said slowly, as though reusing to do all the work or me. le stood beore
me, straight and unbending, looking just a little stern.
I don`t.`
\hat are you going to do about it`
\hat can I do I`m only ourteen.`
le almost laughed aloud, and I could hae hit him. Sel-pity, is it 1hat won`t get you ery ar. lae you
tried to do anything about it`
Like what`
I don`t know. \ou tell me. \hat would you like to do`
I took a deep breath and rushed into boldness that I could hardly beliee I dared. Stay here and lie with
you and take care o Sara.`
Oh, would you now` le turned a little, as though pacing, but I thought I saw a slight twitch o the corners
o his mouth. Lmbarrassed by my own orwardness, I said nothing.
lae you told your mother that` he asked.
No.`
Should you`
low can I I don`t know i you`d let me stay.`
\hy don`t you ask` le was not going to make this easy or me.
My ace turning deep red, I stared at the loor and muttered, \ill you`
\hy do you want to stay`
Because, mostly because . . . o the books. I mean, I really loe Sara, and you`re both good to me, but i I go
to a arm somewhere out west, I`ll neer . . . probably neer read a book, neer get education.`
And education is important to you`
\es,` I said iercely. I don`t eer want to lie like Mama has.` 1he ery thought brought me upright in the
chair, and I looked directly at him.
Maybe . . .` le stopped, and I knew he had been about to tease me again and then thought better o it.
\ou`re right, Mattie. Lducation is important, as much so or girls as men. I`ll talk to Mrs. Dinsmore tonight, but
I think such an arrangement might work out.` le was the one who stared silently o into space or a moment
then. I know this isn`t exactly a happy house to be in, and I worry about that, or Sara and now or you. Mrs.
Dinsmore isn`t always as well as might be, and rankly, I could beneit rom your presence.`
1houghts tumbled together in my mind. I had no idea at that time about depression and what it can do to a
person`s lie, so I didn`t know what he meant by his wie not being well, but I knew there was something serious
there. And I didn`t understand how complicated our lies could become, with my being a beneit` to him. I
don`t think he understood then either. Dr. Dinsmore was a wonderul and kind man, but he was lonely. It was all
too much or a ourteen-year-old, airly naie mind, but I sailed into my uture certain it would all work out.
Mrs. Dinsmore, anxious to hae all the care o Sara taken rom her shoulders, agreed readily to the plan, and
Dr. Dinsmore relieed me o the burden o talking to Mama. It was uncharacteristic o him, since he had insisted
on making me work out my uture mysel, but I think he did it because he wanted me to stay as much as I did.
Mama was waiting or me one day when I came home rom school. She looked tired and rail, and I was
worried about her. Mattie, I want to talk to you.
\es, Mama.`
Come here in the bedroom.` She pulled the blanket across its wire as though that made the bedroom a
separate, soundproo room in the little house. Dr. Dinsmore was here today.`
\es, Mama, I knew he was coming to talk to you.`
\hy didn`t you tell me yoursel`
I don`t know. I guess I thought, well, you wouldn`t like the idea, wouldn`t let me stay.`
Oh, Mattie!` She grabbed my ace in both her hands and looked deep in my eyes, an occasional tear
trickling down her ace. low could I not let you stay It`s an opportunity or you, a chance or a better lie.
\ou know how things hae been or me in this dingy, gossipy little town. But being here was something beyond
my control. I had no choice. I had, uh, promised to wait here or someone, and by the time I knew that was
hopeless, well, there was no place else to go. But now you hae a chance to, well, to do whateer you want. I
you stay here now, then you won`t hae to stay here always.` It was a long speech or Mama, and it let her out
o breath because o her bad lungs. She sat a minute, just staring at me.
I`ll miss you . . . you and \ill lenry something awul,` I said. But inside I was thinking that now I knew a
little more about the mysterious man who had athered us. le let Mama in Missouri and neer came back or
her. One thing seemed certain to me: I was descended rom a cad.
\e`ll miss you, too, but it isn`t like we`ll neer see you again,` she said brightly. I guess she didn`t beliee it
een then, but I didn`t know any better.
1he next couple o weeks were a nightmare. Mr. Reees was most eiciently getting my amily ready to
leae, and I was torn with guilt or not going with them. low could I abandon my own mother
One day I sat and watched \ill lenry and Mr. Reees pore oer a map. Now, right about here, I think,
\ill lenry, is some good armland. Nice and rich soil. \e could raise wheat . . . But maybe that`s a little north
or your mama. I we went south some-`
\ill lenry was enthusiasm come to lie. \e could raise cattle, couldn`t we Right there on the prairie.`
Maybe so. Do you know much about cattle`
I`ll learn,` he said with eight-year-old conidence.
I`m gonna need you some to take care o your mama, you know. She can`t do any hard work.`
But nursin`s girl`s work.`
\ill lenry, we will each do what we hae to do.` 1hat was deliered in the sternest tones I`d eer heard
rom Mr. Reees.
I`m going, too,` I announced suddenly. It`s my place to care or Mama.`
Now, Mattie, your plans are all made, and your mother agrees with them. \e`ll get by.`
Maybe that was what bothered me. 1hey would get by without me, but would I be all right without them
Much as I had railed against our lie, this was my amily, and I loed them. I wanted to watch \ill lenry grow
up and see Mama grow strong and happy again.
\hen Mama heard about it, though, she took one o her irm stands. No, Mattie, you`ll stay here. It`s best.`
lere` I cried, suddenly in a rage. lere, where eerybody teases about my mother and knows I hae no
ather lere, where I haen`t a riend my age in the whole world lere, where I hate to go to the store or run
errands because o what other kids say to me \here I watch Mary Jane Canary look at me like I`m scum`
Mama was stunned, but Mr. Reees recoered ater just a minute. le raised his hand as though to hit me and
was stopped only by Mama`s scream.
Don`t hit her!`
I won`t hae her talking to you that way.`
No, she`s right. Lie in Princeton has been pretty bad or her . . . or all o us . . . but it`s all she`s known.
Mattie, come into the bedroom with me.`
\e sat together on the bed in silence or a moment, and then she put her arm around me. I didn`t know,
Mattie, I didn`t know how awul it was or you.`
\ou couldn`t hae done anything about it anyway. And or a long time I didn`t know what I was missing. I
guess until the day I went with you to the Canarys` house and saw that awul brat.`
\ou may come with us, o course. \e won`t leae you here.`
I don`t know what I want,` I said, biting my lip. I hate Princeton, but I want to stay with the Dinsmores
and read those books and somehow make things better.`
Mattie, how do you know that the problems you hae here, your eelings about me, your questions about
your ather, won`t ollow you to a new town \ill lenry can go easily. le has none o those eelings, but I really
doubt that geography is going to change much or you.
I thought about what she said. Couldn`t . . . wouldn`t things be dierent i you arried someplace married to
Mr. Reees`
Ah, Mattie, marriage or me isn`t going to make the dierence or you. \hat I`e done, or what you think
I`e done, isn`t so terrible, you know. \hat is terrible is the way others hae treated you because o it. And
something you won`t realize or years is that you`re at ault, too, or the way you hae responded to the teasing.
No, all those mixed-up eelings inside you will just go right with us west.`
I lay down on the pillow and began to sob, knowing she was probably right. I wasn`t an attractie child, and
at that point it didn`t appear to me that I had much personality to balance my physical deicits. Len though I
knew Mama was right and suspected she had much more sense than I had eer gien her credit or, I began to
wonder i maybe she didn`t want me to go, i my sour attitude and my resentments were unpleasant enough that
the amily would be happier i I stayed behind. I had no way o knowing how hurt Mama must hae been and
how hard it was or her to leae one o her own children behind, especially when deep down she must hae
known that she`d neer see me again. Lord, I was stuck with sel-pity and not a spark o lie. As I look back on
it, I can`t beliee all the good things that hae happened to that colorless girl rom Missouri.
Mattie, I want you to come with us, you know, more than anything. I will miss you terribly. But I think your
uture, your chance at what you want, starts here in Princeton, not on a journey west without a destination.` She
put an arm around me to hug but had to turn away as a coughing it struck her.
And so, that was how I stayed behind when they let to go west. I watched them pack up our meager
belongings and the new things that Mr. Reees had added. Sometimes I helped, but mostly I just stood and
watched.
And then one day I stood and watched as they droe away in a great huge cart loaded down with eerything
they owned. My own things, which were pretty ew, had already been taken to the Dinsmores`, and Dr.
Dinsmore had oered to come with me to see them o, but I declined. I guess I thought standing there
watching them go was something I had to do alone. And I did it, with a great knot in my stomach.
\e made a great uss, o course, about how soon we would see each other again, and Mama hugged me a lot.
But she coughed a lot, too, and I knew we would not see each other again. \ith all my mixed-up eelings about
her, it made me sad, and I sat down in the dirt outside that tacky little shack and had a good cry. 1hen I said
goodbye to the shack and all that it stood or oreer and walked on to the Dinsmores`.
Lie rolled along. I went to school, watched little Sara, who grew more charming by the day, and read
eerything I could. I went through the American transcendentalists, the Lnglish essayists, all in great bunches,
een though I didn`t understand much o what I read. Dr. Dinsmore took to guiding my reading program,
though always gently.
I you`re reading 1horeau, you ought to read some Lmerson next,` he`d say, explaining the connection to
me. I ollowed his directions careully.
1hings between the Dinsmores didn`t get any better. In act, Mrs. Dinsmore seemed to get worse. A thin,
somber woman, she grew daily more withdrawn and unhappy, not that she eer was unpleasant. She appeared to
be grateul or my care o little Sara, and lots o days I did think how dull the child`s lie would hae been i I had
gone west, to say nothing o my own lie. But still, I wondered how Sara could be so bright and happy in the
midst o such an obiously unhappy household. I decided it was Dr. Dinsmore, or somehow he retained his
cheerulness much, i not all, o the time.
Now that my amily had let, I was no longer quite the outcast with many o the schoolchildren my age, and
I would take Sara on long walks through town. It was a relie to be able to walk without being teased and
without haing to run errands or someone or the other just to earn another nickel. I guess I owed right then I
would neer be someone`s serant, and it probably neer occurred to me that was my status at the Dinsmores`.
Mary Jane Canary reminded me o it one day, though. Look at the little nursemaid,` she taunted rom her
ront yard when I had made the mistake o walking by her house. She was all dressed in ine clothes, and though
my wardrobe had improed some thanks to Dr. Dinsmore`s insistence, I still elt the distinction.
lixing my eyes straight ahead, I said, Come on, Sara, ignore the nasty lady.`
low dare you call me nasty \ou`re the one who`s nasty! Letting your mother go o and leae you to take
charity rom someone else. And who needs to say more about your mother \here`s your ather`
1ry as I might to be bigger than such taunts, like Dr. Dinsmore had told me, I had a hard time, and this day I
ended up clutching Sara`s hand too tightly and walking her home ar too ast or her little short legs, while tears
streamed down both our aces.
Mrs. Dinsmore saw us but neer said a word, neer oered to comort either o us. She just turned and
walked away. But Dr. Dinsmore ound us in the hallway, both o us crying and me trying desperately to wipe
away Sara`s tears.
Good heaens, what`s the matter with both o you`
Nothing,` I muttered. I guess I got upset on our walk, and it scared Sara. I`m sorry. It won`t happen
again.`
\hateer could upset you that badly`
My instinct was to bite my lip, lapse into stony but strong silence and tell him it was nothing. But something
oercame that instinct. Mary Jane Canary,` I said.
1hat spoiled child \hat did she do`
She called me a nursemaid, and said I let my mother go o and was taking charity and all kinds o things.`
1ears crept down my cheeks again.
Are they true`
\hat` I stopped eeling sorry or mysel long enough to think. I had let my mother go o, and I was
taking care o Sara, which meant I wasn`t really taking charity. I guess, but Mary Jane doesn`t understand.`
\hy should she \hat do you care i she does`
\ell,` I said deensiely, it`s my pride . . .`
Are you proud o yoursel, o what you`re doing`
Sure. I`m doing better in school than eer, and I`m reading my way through that library, and-`
And you`re beginning to learn about my medicines, and you`re taking good care o Sara, who is ery happy
these days. So you`e got a lot to be proud o. But it doesn`t matter i Mary Jane knows that or not.` Once again,
he towered oer me, een when I raised up rom my knees, and I was aware o his strength and authority.
It`s not that . . .` I remember being thoroughly conused.
1hink about it a little, Mattie. I know it`s unpleasant to hae to listen to her, but at least you don`t hae to
go with your mother while Mary Jane models dresses anymore.` le got sort o a wry grin on his ace. And we
all hae unpleasant people to deal with. Come on, I need help measuring out some medicines . . . Sara, you can
come, too.`
Laughing a little now, he picked Sara up with one arm and draped the other around my shoulders.
Mrs. Dinsmore seemed to get worse eery day. I couldn`t understand why someone like her, who had so
much, could be so sad and solemn when Mama, who had nothing but trouble, had managed to smile at least hal
the time and neer, eer just sat and stared like Mrs. Dinsmore did.
I guess I had no conception o how bad she really was een though I saw Dr. Dinsmore daily grow more
tired and worried-looking. le still had a smile or Sara and lots o encouragement or me, but I would catch him,
sometimes, staring o into space as though lost in thought. And he was careul o Mrs. Dinsmore, as always, but
he seemed to spend more time around her, as though he was worried and watching her. One night I guessed
maybe he had been worried indeed.
I was wakened rom a sound sleep by an awul screaming, a loud wailing that sent shiers through me and
made me want nothing more than to burrow under the coers, pillow oer my head, and hide until the noise
stopped. Ater a minute I realized, o course, that I couldn`t do that. I had to take care o Sara.
She was terriied and clung to me, sobbing, It`s my mama, it`s my mama.`
I wanted to say, Nonsense, Sara, that`s not your mother.` But I knew it was indeed her, and I said nothing
but It will be all right. \our ather will take care o her. Maybe she had a bad dream.`
1he screaming probably only lasted two or three minutes, though it seemed like hours, and then it stopped
abruptly, as though someone had clamped a strong hand oer her mouth. Someone had, I suppose.
Mrs. Dinsmore did not appear at breakast the next morning, though the doctor did, looking much the same
as usual. \hen Sara trotted o to play with her dolls, he pushed his chair rom the table and talked sotly to me.
I don`t know, Mattie, that I`e done you any aor by bringing you here. 1hings appear to be worse than
they were when you were with your mother.`
\ou mean Mrs. Dinsmore` lilled with curiosity about the night beore, I perched on the edge o my chair
and orgot the rules against elbows on the table.
\hat else \ou`re really too young to hae to worry about this, but I guess you`e worried about other
things that were beyond your age.` 1aking a deep breath, he said, Mrs. Dinsmore has a serious mental disorder
rom which I doubt she will eer recoer. She is quiet now because I gae her sedation last night.`
I nodded sympathetically, but my stomach lurched. \as I going to hae to leae ater all \as that what he
was working up to
I thought, or seeral years, that she would improe,` he went on, and I did the things accepted by medical
science to get her better, but nothing helped. She has, ah, a amily predisposition to this type o illness.`
Sara, I thought. Maybe she`ll turn out that way, too. I looked at her, playing happily with her dolls, and
couldn`t beliee it was possible. Dr. Dinsmore saw me and read my mind. Shaking his head, he said, It`s
possible, but I hope not. Certainly, without your help, Sara would be growing up in the same dismal atmosphere
that her mother did, and I think that contributed. But as long as she can see a brighter side o lie, I think she`ll
be ine.`
I had neer elt that I was too good at seeing the bright side o lie, but I guess I was better than that poor
woman sleeping upstairs, and I owed to be bright and cheerul rom then on. It was, o course, a ow I couldn`t
keep, but I meant it at the time.
Meantime, I thought Dr. Dinsmore would neer get to the point o what was going to happen in the
immediate uture. le sat calmly in that chair, looking intently at me while I idgeted, my mind illed with
questions. \as I to leae or stay \ould he commit Mrs. Dinsmore I doubted that, knowing that mental
institutions were hellholes or the patients, who were oten chained to their beds, ed the barest o diets and
generally mistreated. I can`t remember where I had learned that, but eery schoolkid in those days had a grim
picture o how awul a mental institution was. 1hey still belieed that the mentally ill were no better than
animals, and they were treated accordingly.
Dr. Dinsmore did answer one o my unspoken questions. She wasn`t always this way. I want you to know
that. Once she was young and pretty and always happy. I don`t know what happened, really, to make her change
gradually, but she surely wasn`t this way when we married. And I guess that`s the reason I can`t institutionalize
her. I will keep her at home as long as it`s sae or Sara.`
le neer said anything about saety or him, and I wondered i she had threatened him when she was yelling
and screaming.
Mattie, the whole question is what you should do. Sara and I hae no choice. \ou do. I you can accept and
understand, I would like you to stay. Both or your sake and, selishly, because you`re the closest thing to adult
companionship that I hae. But i you don`t eel you can lie with this new problem-and you can guess what
Mary Jane will say about this when it becomes public-I`ll arrange or you to join your amily.`
Maybe it wasn`t realistic, but I neer doubted or one minute what my decision would be. I want to stay,` I
said quickly. In retrospect, it was the best choice, but at the time, I made it or all the wrong reasons, among
them a growing recognition o how important Dr. Dinsmore himsel was in my lie.
I guess I thought Mrs. Dinsmore would go on staring out the window. 1his was not to be the case.
Something had broken loose in the poor woman that night, and rom then on, she no longer sat and stared. She
paced and idgeted and raed wildly and was neer still a moment. Dr. Dinsmore took to locking her in her
room, which he had taken special pains to make sae so she could not hurt hersel or anyone else. But Sara and I
still heard her each day as we sat at the dining table or read in the parlor. Sometimes she would sing sotly, and
other times she would moan long and low. It was eerie, and as long as the weather was good, Sara and I were
outside as much as we could be.
I it weren`t or Mrs. Dinsmore, lie would hae been pretty grand. School was going well, and I liked it.
Len better, I liked learning about Dr. Dinsmore`s medicines. Now that he had no one else to talk to except the
housekeeper, Mrs. Lans, who wasn`t ery good company, he talked to me about his theories on medication,
what he thought made the body healthy and why people got sick.
1hat`s the most puzzling thing, Mattie. \hy did she` -he nodded his head upstairs- suddenly change
\hat body chemistry in her changed to make her snap loose like that Someday I suppose medicine will know,
but it`s a terrible puzzle now.`
I didn`t understand how body chemistry could hae anything to do with Mrs. Dinsmore being, well, crazy, as
I called her to mysel, but I was willing to beliee it was so i Dr. Dinsmore told me so. And I wanted so badly to
be intelligent or him, to be worthy o the trust he placed in me by discussing these things with me.
I its chemistry, I would think you could do something about it, gie her some medicine.`
Maybe someday we can, Mattie, but we don`t know enough about it now. Look how they treat most people
in her condition. 1hey lock them up like animals and claim it doesn`t make any dierence to them. But she`s not
an animal. She knows me, knows hersel. I couldn`t lock her up.`
O course not. \e can manage.` I tried to sound conident.
Mattie, Mattie, what would I do without you` le put an arm around my shoulder and hugged me, and I
glowed with a kind o comort and security that had been denied me all my lie. Dr. Dinsmore and I illed a real
need or each other.
It wasn`t that I replaced Mama with him, but rather, obiously, he became the ather I neer had. Instead o
Mama, who was at once parent and child, I had a parent, someone I could respect and model mysel ater. And
he had a semiadult, someone who would listen and neer, no not eer, criticize. I was so wrapped up in my new
lie and what I saw as my new status and position in the world that I barely een missed Mama and \ill lenry.
I did hear rom them. 1hey were settled comortably in what they called a soddie. Strange to think I had no
idea what a soddie was, me who lied a good portion o my lie in one. It sounded dirty and nasty to me, and I
didn`t see how Mama would eer get better. 1ruth was, that was the one topic missing rom that letter. 1here
wasn`t one word about Mama`s health, and the omission made me nerous, as it well should hae. But I brushed
that worry rom my mind and went on with my new lie.
Mary Jane Canary continued to tease. Liing with a crazy lady, aren`t you` \ord had gotten around town,
o course, about Mrs. Dinsmore. I suppose it was because Mrs. Lans neer talked to us, but outside the house,
had a tongue that wouldn`t stop. She was horriied by the noises Mrs. Dinsmore made and used to shake her
head and cluck her tongue and mutter, making almost as much racket as the poor woman hersel. But somehow,
Dr. Dinsmore had helped me with Mary Jane, and I no longer paid attention. Vaguely, I elt some kind o pity
or her, but it was a eeling I would not recognize or years to come.
I guess we would hae gone on like that a long time, although I had a growing eeling that we couldn`t, that
something had to be done about Mrs. Dinsmore. I think he elt it, too, because each day he seemed more
worried. But as he conessed again and again, he had no idea what to do.
I can`t put her in one o those places, Mattie, I can`t. But last night, she . . . when I took her a tray, she . . .`
le sat at his desk, head sunk in his hands in despair.
She had, as I had eared, tried to harm him by attacking him with a knie, making only a small scratch but
trying hard to do him real harm. I wanted to go up and slap her. low dare she injure him Didn`t she know he
was special
\hy did she do it` I asked incredulously.
le shook his head sadly. \ho knows I doubt she does. Maybe she wanted to leae her room. Maybe it
was anger at me, maybe a combination o those things, but mostly, the act o a mind that`s lost touch with reality
and is probably rightened. Maybe the iolence came rom her own right.`
Dr. Dinsmore knew at that point that it would happen again, and that someday he would hae to do
something. I he were a wealthy man, I am sure he would hae hired a keeper or her, but there was not enough
money or that.
Mrs. Dinsmore soled it or us one day, or rather, one night. In spite o Dr. Dinsmore`s care, she ound a
way to damage someone-hersel. \ith a bedsheet tied out the window, she hung hersel rom the second story
o the house. I was always thankul Sara and I were spared the sight. Someone saw her early in the morning and
alerted Dr. Dinsmore, who ordered us to stay in our rooms. By the time we were released, the body had been
taken away and the house was crowded with people, all oering sympathy and trying to satisy their curiosity.
Mattie, dear, you`re so strong and such a help to the doctor in this terrible time` . . . \ou`e been through
so much, Mattie. lirst your poor dear mother, and now this` . . . low, I mean, does anybody know why . . . `
linally I said to one curious lady, Sorry, I think Sara needs me.` I scooped the child up and ran rom the
room, nearly colliding with Dr. Dinsmore, who was talking with the minister.
1errible shame, just terrible. Don`t suppose there`s anything a man can do to preent it in cases like this.`
Perhaps I should hae put her into an institution, but I couldn`t bring mysel to do it, just couldn`t. Maybe
this is all or the best.`
Oh, neer, man, neer must you say that. It`s a sin, what she has done, a terrible sin.`
She didn`t know sin rom right, Reerend. I think she only wanted to be ree o her torment.`
1he uneral was held the next day, instead o the customary three days later, and there was no large uneral
party. Only a handul o people gathered around the graesite as the reerend implored God to orgie her or
she knew not what she did.
I didn`t think Mrs. Dinsmore`s death would make as much dierence in our lies as it did, except that we`d
be spared that sense o a shadow looming oer us and those awul noises she used to make. But I guess I was
young and didn`t realize about hidden tension. 1hings changed dramatically around the Dinsmore house, almost
immediately, and or the better. Dr. Dinsmore, my rock and my protector, became almost a playmate or Sara
and me. It was as though he took a day or two to reconcile himsel to the ineitability o what had happened,
then shook o the past and determined to build himsel a new lie.
Come on, girls, what are you doing with your noses in books on a day like this`
Sara was studying her ABCs, and I`m trying to inish-`
I don`t care what you`re trying to inish!` le said it with a laugh and grabbed 1be a.t of tbe Mobicav. right
out o my hands. \e`re going on a picnic.`
A picnic!` Sara squealed, running to Mrs. Lans to demand, I want ried chicken or my picnic.`
1hat grim lady, unlike her employer, had not reconciled hersel to the death, and she said harshly, \ou`ll get
sandwiches o yesterday`s roast. I ain`t got no time to ry chicken.`
But een Mrs. Lans couldn`t put a damper on our day, and soon we were loaded into the carriage, a picnic
hamper o our own packing on the loor. Dr. Dinsmore droe way out into the country, or so it seemed, een
though it probably was no more than two miles. \e spread a blanket under a large oak tree.
le and Sara wandered, picking wildlowers, while I unpacked the lunch o cold roast, carrot sticks,
homemade bread ,Mrs. Lans could make wonderul bread een i she was the sourest lady in all o Missouri!,
and a chocolate cake which I had made in an eort to become domestic as well as widely read. It was all
delicious except the cake.
A trile dry, Mattie,` Dr. Dinsmore said careully. \ou`ll get better. 1hen again, maybe you won`t. Maybe
you weren`t meant to bake and sweep and clean. \ou could learn medicine rom me, you know.`
I guess he planted the idea in my mind right then. Anyway, I didn`t answer, just stared o at Sara, who was
playing with something in the grass. But my thoughts were on the uture, because suddenly I saw a way out o
the trap set by my childhood and background.
Sure,` I answered inally, trying to be casual. I can learn medicine.` But I meant it seriously.
Ater we ate, we all lay on the ground and listened while he told stories o his boyhood in Philadelphia and
how he had come to be a doctor and why he had come out to Missouri to practice instead o staying back there
een though doctors weren`t really well respected on the rontier. I was thrilled to my bones to hear o his early
lie.
Mrs. Dinsmore had died at the beginning o summer, and or the three o us, it was a glorious summer,
unkind as that sounds. Sometimes we went picnicking, sometimes Sara and I went on house calls with Dr.
Dinsmore, and once we went ishing, though Sara was much better than I about getting a worm on the hook.
lae to get oer that squeamishness i you`re going to work with me,` he teased. Got to deelop a strong
stomach.`
I bit my lip and orced the wriggling, squiggly thing onto the hook, but I hae neer to this day liked ishing
and don`t really like to eat ish. I think it all comes rom that memory.
\hen all came, we settled more into a routine. Sara was six and o to school or the irst year, and I was
busy with high school. Unconsciously, I had somewhat taken oer the running o the household, not that Mrs.
Dinsmore had eer done much o it in recent years. But the doctor would ask me to check this or that with Mrs.
Lans, and soon I ound mysel selecting what we would hae or dinner or the coming week and reminding
her that the rugs needed beating. 1o this day, I don`t know how I knew how to keep house, or certainly, in our
little shack, Mama had neer beaten the rugs-there were only two. I think that housekeeping knowledge was
another git to me rom Dr. Dinsmore, a git gien so subtly I was neer aware o it.
\e went on that way or three more years. Sara grew and lourished, an adorable and sweet child in whom I
thought the sun rose and set. She illed the oid let by \ill lenry. \hen she was seen, she lost her irst tooth,
and I stitched her a small sampler about the tooth airy, trying to remember all the ine stitches Mama had tried
to teach me and doing a poor job o it. 1hat was probably the last needlework I eer did in my whole lie, except
or emergency mending. My stitches were always clumsy and obious, not ine and delicate like Mama`s, and
because I didn`t sew well, it bored me. 1o this day, I`m a little suspicious o women who sew or the pleasure o
it.
But back to Sara. \hen she was nine, she broke her wrist. I remember it distinctly. I was more rantic than
any mother could hae been, alternating between wringing my hands and scolding her or unladylike behaior. I
she hadn`t climbed that tree, she neer would hae allen.
Mattie, Mattie. It`s unortunate, but broken bones are oten a part o growing up. And I`d rather she take
risks and hae un than sit in a chair and neer experience the world.`
I looked doubtul. It was the irst time that I was clearly aware that Dr. Dinsmore might not always be right,
but I guess I didn`t know that he was thinking o his wie and the risks she neer took, the narrowness o a con-
stricted lie that inally led to madness and suicide.
Other incidents stand out more happily-Sara giggling with a little riend oer a book they had sneaked rom
the library, Sara dressed or her irst communion or riding the pony her ather bought her or her eighth
birthday. She had a wonderul childhood, and my teen years, which could hae been awkward and miserable,
turned wonderul because o her and her ather. But inside, the whole time, I nursed a secret plan. I knew Sara
would be grown one day, and I couldn`t be her nursemaid oreer, but I knew what came next or me. 1he only
question was, how
1he death o my mother was the only blow that came to me in those years, but it was a major one. Mr.
Reees wrote the kindest o letters, explaining that she had simply continued to lose strength, and nothing he
could do had reied her. le was, I remember sensing, een more heartbroken than I, and I elt sorry or him.
le promised to keep \ill lenry with him and said I had a home, too, any time I wanted it. le expected they
would moe rom Kansas to Nebraska soon because he had heard the arming was good there, and he elt the
need to moe on to a place with ewer memories.
I was a little angry that he would moe and leae Mama buried alone in strange soil, but I knew enough to
recognize that as an irrational thought and didn`t mention it when I wrote back. Neither did I mention the awul
sense o guilt that tore at me because I had let my mother go without me, a sense o guilt that perhaps I neer
did work out the rest o my lie.
I thanked him or all his kindness and assured him that I was comortably settled where I was and would
remain in Princeton or years to come. I didn`t bother to tell him about my secret plan or the uture, mostly
because as yet I had no idea how I would implement that plan. It was a antasy that I clung to tightly.
Mama used to say to me that ate works in mysterious ways. 1hat`s truly how it was when Dr. Dinsmore
announced one day that he was moing to Omaha, where he had accepted a position with the new medical
school. \ith my usual selishness, I could not see beyond my own nose and saw, not possibilities, but closed
doors in his announcement. It had happened to me once beore-the amily I loed had let me behind-and
now it was going to happen again. le was moing to Omaha, and I would be let in Princeton, where I now had
neither amily nor riends and certainly no way o making my dream come true.
Mattie, aren`t you glad \hy can`t you say something`
I`m sure you`ll be ery happy there,` I said stily, my back straight and my ace tightly set.
\hat do you mean, you`re sure I`ll be happy there \hat about you`
I stared, silent, and a look o awareness broke on his ace, ollowed by a grin. \ou`re to go, too, you silly
thing. Do you think Sara and I would leae you behind I thought you`d be delighted. \e`ll be at a medical
school, a chance or you to learn more about medicine.` le paused, seeming lost in thought, though now I
wonder i he wasn`t ater a dramatic eect. \ou could, you know, go to medical school.`
I almost sagged with relie. lere was the key to my plan. \et experience had taught me caution.
\omen don`t go to medical school,` I said, testing him.
le had anticipated my arguments and had his answers ready. 1hey do back Last. I admit none has eer
gone to the college in Omaha. But that doesn`t mean you couldn`t be the irst.`
Me` It was what I wanted, yet when it was presented to me, I wasn`t sure I could do it.
\es, you. \ou could do it, Mattie. \ou`re a good student, you`e got a background in medicine, at least a
little rom me. And you are interested, aren`t you`
\es, I am,` I admitted. I really would like to be a doctor because, well, because there ought to hae been
some way that Mama didn`t need to die.` It wasn`t a new thought on the spur o the moment, but something I
had been thinking about. I I had been trained, had more knowledge, would Mama hae lied She wouldn`t, but
I didn`t know it back then. And in the back o my mind still was the thought that I didn`t tell him: Medicine was
my way out o Princeton and poerty.
Good. It`s settled. I`ll sponsor you.`
In those days it didn`t take much to get into medical school, not like today, and one o the surest paths was
to get another doctor to sponsor you. 1here would, I thought, be no question o my admission to the next class,
since I already had my high school training. \ith Dr. Dinsmore speaking or me, there would be no problems
unless the school objected to women.
le must hae read my mind. It`s time that school admitted women, started looking ahead. I`m going to
change some things there, and you`re going to help me do it, Mattie. It`s perect.`
No, I didn`t eel like a tool he was using. I knew Dr. Dinsmore really did want what was best or me, and
that, to his mind, was or me to be that irst woman doctor, no matter what problems I aced. O course, we
hadn`t heard o Pygmalion at the time.
lin
A412'%) H*+) G L<>% M%''(%'*,? A1)*(6, E" N*&% 7 0*/%'</%& 1 O)%1' A*//*'<*,
Carolyn J. Rose grew up in New \ork`s Catskill Mountains, graduated rom the Uniersity o Arizona,
logged two years in Arkansas with Volunteers in Serice to America, and spent 25 years as a teleision
news researcher, writer, producer, and assignment editor in Arkansas, New Mexico, Oregon, and
\ashington. She teaches noel-writing in Vancouer, \ashington, and ounded the Vancouer \riters`
Mixers. ler hobbies are reading, gardening, and not cooking.
Mike Nettleton grew up in Bandon and Grants Pass, Oregon. A stint at a college station in Ashland led to a multi-state
radio odyssey with on-air gigs in Oregon, Caliornia, and New Mexico under the air name Mike Phillips. In 1989 he
returned to the Northwest and in 1994 joined KLX Radio in Portland. Ater 16 years at KLX, he`s retiring January 1
st
and
hopes to deote more time to his writing. lis hobbies are gol, pool, 1exas hold-em poker, and book collecting.
Carolyn and Mike hae authored a number o mysteries.
Author website: http:,,www.deadlyduomysteries.com,
Carolyn J. Rose Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2atqo2q
Mike Nettleton Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2c66
Publisher website: http:,,www.krillpress.com
Copyright 2010 Krill Press, LLC
0*/%'</%& 1 O)%1' A*//*'<*,
1he situation is dire, Molly. Dire and disgusting.` Mayor lenri 1reelle waed an oicial letter under my
nose, and then anned himsel with it. lecal contamination. L. coli bacteria.` le shuddered. Such horrid
words emerging rom my lips.`
le plopped into his rocking chair at the rear o the Gilded Puin Git and Gun Shoppe and peered oer the
rims o rhinestone-studded reading glasses. I I had een the tiniest inkling that the sewage acility had reached
the end o its days, I would not hae allowed Adam to sweet talk me into being mayor.` lenri squeezed his eyes
shut and I spotted glittery blue shadow on the lids, eye shadow the same shade as his ruled silk shirt. It`s
probably not legal anyway,` he muttered, since I am not a citizen.`
I tapped my pen against a blank page in my notebook, ignoring lenri`s reerence to his lrench-Canadian
heritage. Nobody in Deil`s larbor would consider checking the charter or a citizenship requirement. lor one
thing, no one else wanted the job. lor another, they respected the ormer hockey legend-some in spite o and
some because o his lamboyant style. Are you saying Brighton Deeds knew the wastewater plant needed a
major oerhaul but did nothing`
Nothing was what Deeds did best.` lenri handed me the letter, then patted his ample lap, Angel, his three-
legged Balinese, hopped aboard. And that is ortunate since what he did was usually ar worse than what he
didn`t do.` lenri petted the cat with a hand-oer-hand stroke. lair crackling with static electricity, Angel arched
her back and kneaded his meaty thighs. lis sole ciic improement was bashing Grabowski with that rozen
ish and tossing his carcass o Perdition Point. But don`t quote me.`
I grinned. Spoilsport.`
le growled and shot me a scowl that must hae terriied high-sticking opponents back in the day.
Strictly o the record,` I promised, raising my hands in surrender.
1he truth was that most o my conersations with lenri were o the record. le was an incurable gossip
with a huge heart and a mouth that ran non-stop, he was also my best riend-next to Jerey \ole who
wouldn`t be back until a ew days beore Christmas. I missed him like crazy, but we`d agreed he couldn`t pass up
the opportunity to make enough in three months to lie and write in Deil`s larbor or two years. le`d let my
dad without a irst mate, but the charter business was about to go dormant until spring anyway.
I noticed I`d drawn a tiny heart on the paper and quickly scribbled oer it. Did I loe Jerey 1hat was a
mystery. 1he summer months had been among the best o my lie. But, thanks to my ex-husband who`d chosen
to announce our honeymoon was oer by getting it on with my best riend, when it came to loe, I was prone to
search or a cloud wheneer I discoered a siler lining.
I yanked mysel back to my job and studied the letter rom the state agency in charge o enironmental
matters. 1ranslated rom bureaucratese, it indicated that the Deil`s larbor wastewater treatment plant was out
o compliance and that twice oer the summer hadn`t processed sewage ast enough. Partially treated waste had
spilled into the ocean, raising bacterial pollution and putting swimmers and surers at risk. Not that Oregon`s
chill waters attracted many o either, but pollution wasn`t an existential issue-it was there, whether anyone was
exposed to it or not.
It`s not like we intentionally dumped that-well, let`s call it what it is-poo-pay. Bucky Mallory says the
system is antiquated. \hen the sky opens or a bus load o tourists contracts the two-step miseries because
Groer hasn`t changed the deep at ryer grease or a month, then it`s too much.` le pointed at my notebook.
1here. 1hat you may include.`
Obediently I made a note and tapped the oicial letter. 1his says state and ederal grants may be aailable to
oerhaul the system. Are you looking into that`
Mai. ovi. But in order to get a grant, we must hae what they call matching unds. Money. Big bucks.`
I drew a dollar sign on the pad. 1oo many things reoled around money-or the lack o it. Doesn`t the
town hae a contingency und`
1hirty-seen dollars worth,` lenri snorted. 1here is no money een to pay Bucky`s salary. lortunately
ender benders were plentiul this summer and his body shop was busy. More ortunately, he accepts IOU`s.`
I nodded. Like many Deil`s larbor residents, Bucky worked two jobs. Note that I said jobs.` No one in
Deil`s larbor put the label career` on what they did to make a liing. \e were a hardy band o realists.
Studying the dollar sign, I realized how little I knew about municipal inancing. \here do all the taxes go \hy
isn`t there more`
lenri shrugged. 1wo words. Brighton Deeds.`
I sat up straighter. Now here was a tidbit my editors in Portland would leap at, more dirty dealings by the
ormer mayor who`d go to trial next month. le embezzled rom the town`
Puh-leeze.` lenri raised eyebrows dyed to match his highlighted blond hair. Don`t insult embezzlers. 1he
ishmonger mayor was merely a shortsighted, mismanaging wastrel who lew irst class to eery conerence and
conention he heard about. lis meal allowance or one trip would buy your wardrobe or a year.`
lenri pursed his lips and studied my tennis shoes, jeans, and the 1-shirt that read: \hat i the lokey Pokey
really i. what it`s all about` I held my chin up. \e`d been down this road beore. Oten. I`m a reporter, not a
ashion model.`
le sighed heaily and waggled his inger, a sign he`d get back to that later. Anyway, right now the town`s
situation is the opposite o the sewer plant`s-nothing coming in and too much going out.`
1oo bad you can`t route the sewage through city hall,` I quipped.
lenri shot me that scowl again.
Bad joke,` I mumbled. Deil`s larbor`s city hall was a ile cabinet behind lenri`s counter and a table at the
Belly Up Bar near the bait cooler. Maybelline \amamoto, the town secretary, took down the minutes in between
pulling beers and mixing drinks. Can you borrow money or the matching unds`
1o be able to borrow, one must be able to pay back. \ith interest.`
\hat about increasing taxes`
le shook his head. Gus Custer has been-as you say-in my ace about that. And Prudence Deeds claims
she knows people in high places.`
In the biblical sense,` I assured him. And plenty in low places, too.` 1he ormer mayor`s wie was
legendary or her sexcapades. Most recently she`d been caorting with Joe Benton who`d inessed the
congressional seat Brighton Deeds had pursued beore his arrest.
But I hae a plan. And the town council has approed it.` lis chest swelled. 1he plan is two-pronged.`
I grinned. \ou`re one o the ew men who can use the word prong` in an intelligent conersation. Most
would try to make it into a limerick.`
A mischieous smile tweaked lenri`s lips. I understand the temptation. It does rhyme with quite a number
o interesting words.`
I`ll pass on listing them.` I tapped the notebook with my pen. I hae to get this story written and e-mailed
in beore dinner.` And then check or an e-mail rom Je while I ate my tuna sandwich. Alone. \allowing in
sel-pity.
lenri gae Angel another ew strokes and raised the index inger on his right hand. Prong one: strict water
conseration measures. Lectie tomorrow. 1own councilors are spreading the word and cutting back their own
usage.`
le reached or a stack o paper lying on top o the pot-bellied stoe that he`d stoke up when rains came with
a engeance in late October. I`e made a copy or you.` le handed me a stapled shea. I`e listed the water
usage or each household and business in Deil`s larbor. Now, water in equates to water out.` le lipped a ew
pages. As you can see, businesses like the Deil`s lood Cae and the Belly Up use the most. Lspecially during
tourist season. Dishes must be washed. Customers eat and drink and then they-` le grimaced. I don`t need to
spell that out or you, do I`
Nope,` I chuckled. It`s only our letters.`
lenri rolled his eyes. But you see the situation, no \e must waste less. \e must take shorter showers. \e
must repair dripping aucets. \e must lush less oten. \e must-`
-encourage constipation` I suggested. Put up signs that read: restrooms or locals only``
lenri rubbed the closely shaed and well-moisturized skin beneath his jaw. Could we do that`
Probably not without haing your designer socks sued o. But I can log onto some water conseration sites
and get a ton o ideas. I`ll help you make a lyer i you want.` \hat the heck, it would earn me ciic points and
what else did I hae to do with my eenings
llyers.` lenri kissed his ingertips. Magniicent. Bright, colorul, eye-catching. I`m thinking uchsia.
Although a morning glory blue would be classy, too. Perhaps a lime-`
I waed him o. \e`ll deal with colors later. I hae a deadline, remember \hat`s part two o the plan`
lenri chewed his lower lip. Remember this is an emergency situation,` he cautioned. Be sure to use that
word, emergency,` seeral times.`
Lmergency.` I rolled my eyes as I wrote it in capital letters. Got it.`
And remember that water conseration will not sole the problems with the treatment acility, it will only
reliee the pressure, so to speak. 1he goernment has threatened to ine us the next time the system oerlows.
\e must ind unding or a new acility tovt ae .vite.`
I crooked my index inger. So part two o the plan is`
lenri sighed. \e don`t like it, but we all agreed we hae no other choice.` le sighed again. \ell, all
except Adam Quarles. le oted against it. But the majority rules, correct`
I nodded. 1hat`s the way democracy works. Lxcept possibly in llorida during a close election. But let`s not
go there.`
Not een Key \est` lenri stroked an eyebrow. In January`
So noted.` I made a squiggle in the notebook. And the controersial prong two o the plan is`
lenri took a deep breath. Logging the town trust land. Selectie logging,` he added. Not clear-cutting.
\e`ll replant seedlings immediately.`
Logging` 1he town trust land lay on the east side o the hills scalped by Vince Grabowski or the
deelopment and gol course. 1he parcel had been deeded to the town in the 1940s by the widow o a minor
logging baron who had hoped, in ain, that Deil`s larbor would deelop a park and erect a monument in his
honor. I`d written a story on the acreage back in July when Gus Custer had complained about teenagers drag
racing up the dirt road past his house and trashing the woods with boondocker parties. Do you think Adam will
try to block the logging`
1hat`s a gien. Adam was born to protest, so I expect he`ll try to rally support.` lenri shrugged. But he
does not hae a legal leg to stand on. I`e already had the land checked or endangered species. I think once we
take the case to the people, Adam will be the only oice crying in the wilderness.`
le smacked himsel on the orehead. Mov aiev. I`m beginning to sound like Llspeth lunsaker. lorget I said
that.`
Already orgotten,` I assured him with a grin. lenri was still doing penance or inadertently helping the
eds unplug our resident Bible-thumper`s sermonizing radio station. 1wice a month he lugged a ideo camera
around the county, taping her raings or public access 1V.
Angel meowed imperiously and lenri set her on the loor. \es, my darling. Daddy has some poached sea
bass. \ou shall hae it in a moment.`
Poached sea bass 1he cat ate better than I did.
I snapped my notebook shut and glanced at my watch. Nearly noon. Adam would be with Claire, haing
lunch or, more possibly, sex. lis kite and natural ood shop, Passing \ind, would be closed until . . . well, until
wheneer. I`d rough out my story and get his comments later. 1hat was my obligation as a journalist, een
though the case or logging seemed clear. Non-compliance meant more pollution, and hety ines. 1he town
owned the land. Protesting would just drag things out. But Adam iewed tilting at windmills as a competitie
sport.

Adam Quarles poured organic carrot juice into a glass, added ice cubes and carried the drink to the man
enjoying the 20-degree iew o the coast rom his seat on the extra-long soa beside Claire Grabowski. Adam
winced inwardly at the last name o her ormer husband, land-grabbing deeloper and recent homicide ictim.
Adam wasn`t a male chauinist. le didn`t expect her to take his name i they decided to hae the state sanction
their union but he wanted her to change hers-to her maiden name, a letter, a number, or een a symbol.
Anything but Grabowski. le`d made his case seeral times until she`d told him to get oer it or get out. le`d
come to suspect she hung onto the name as penance, but he couldn`t bring that up. Claire was a woman o her
word.
1hanks, brother.` 1he man on the soa swept long blond hair o his shoulders, accepted the drink, and
examined it, swirling the orange liquid as i it were ine wine. \ou sure this is organic`
Adam bristled. O course.`
I mean, truthul labeling is a real issue, you know` le swirled the liquid again, making the ice tinkle against
the glass. \ou`e got to do your research, check out the company.` le raised eyebrows many shades darker
than his hair.
I run an orgavic ood store,` Adam said rom between gritted teeth. I bv, organic ood. I .ett organic ood.
1hat juice is organic.`
1he man swirled the liquid again. And the ice`
Pure spring water.` Claire tossed her dark curls and slid closer to the end o the soa and arther away rom
their guest. I poured it into the trays mysel. No chlorine. No luoride. Adam gets it rom Montana.`
1hat, Adam knew, was a bald-aced lie. Claire`s rerigerator had an icemaker supplied by tap water rom the
town wells. 1he lie and her body language told him she didn`t like this guy. \ell, she didn`t hae to.
1he man examined the juice again and twitched his tresses once more. 1he hair reminded Adam o the guy
who`d played the el in that three-part antasy moie. But this guy`s eyes were squinty and his mouth was mean.
\ou can`t be too careul,` the man said
Oh, don`t I know it,` Claire agreed. I anything, I`m more o an organic crusader than Adam.` She spread
her arms and made circles in the air with her ingers. In act, as soon as I inish settling my late husband`s
estate, I`m going to hae this house leeled-I`ll recycle the materials, o course-and build a completely green
model.`
Another bald-aced lie. Claire was yanking this guy`s chain. Adam realized she was tweaking him, too, and
elt aguely queasy. She`d neer done that beore.
1he world would be a better place i there were more people like you.` 1he man smiled and shited closer
to her. I you`re going to talk the talk, you hae to walk the walk. Know what I mean` le twirled a strand o
hair around his ingers.
Lxactly. 1here are so many phonies out there.` Claire wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes at Adam.
\hat was that supposed to mean \as she saying he wasn`t committed le burrowed his ingers into his
dreadlocked hair and scratched his head as he sank into a sot chair. 1he isitor, seemingly satisied about its
proenance, drank hal o the carrot juice and set the glass on the cork coaster Claire thrust between it and the
polished surace o an oak coee table. Shall we get down to . . . ` Adam groped or a word more appropriate
than business,` but couldn`t come up with one.
Business` 1he man leaned back among plump teal green soa cushions. 1hat`s why I`m here. By the way,
I`m called lorest Lcho.`
Claire choked on a snort and made it a cough. Do we call you lorest Or Mr. Lcho`
I preer lorest Lcho. 1he words together orm an image. It came to me in a ision, when I was asting in a
redwood orest.` le slid seeral inches closer to Claire. But ,ov may call me whateer you please.`
I`m deeply honored.` Sarcasm thick in her oice, Claire bounced rom the soa and snatched up his glass.
Let me get you a reill and then I`ll leae you two to hatch your little scheme.` She scurried to the kitchen,
poured juice, returned the glass to the table and, with a ingertip wae, disappeared up the steps to the bedroom
lot where, Adam had no doubt, she would listen to eery word.
lorest Lcho, who`d watched Claire with the rapt attention o a hungry weasel, licked his lips. Adam
shuddered. le wanted the deal done and this sleazy character out o the house. Let`s get down to business.
low does this work Do we sign a contract Do I ill out a \-2 orm I`e been inoled in a lot o protests,
but we always demonstrated or the cause, not or money.`
lorest Lcho glared and shoed his hair behind his ears. \es, we do sign a contract. But let`s get one thing
straight. I`m not merely a mercenary, an actiist, a tree-sitter or hire.` le thumped his chest. I betiere in what
you`re trying to do, but I hae to eat. So do my people.`
1hat`s another thing.` Adam was beginning to wonder i putting out an SOS to the radical wing o the
enironmental moement had been a mistake. low many people are we talking about \here will they stay
1he town wants to cut the trees to raise money to ix the sewage system. I we add to that problem with a lot o
protesters, the media will jump all oer us.` Not to mention that lenri would jump all oer him. lor real.
Not to worry, brother.` lorest Lcho made a peace sign. My people will camp in the orest. 1hey`ll use
only blown-down limbs or their shelters. 1hey`ll subsist on ood donated by like-minded indiiduals in the
community and on what they can orage-nuts, berries, roots and ish-nothing on the endangered species list,
o course. 1hey`ll pack out their waste and garbage.`
Adam nodded. Still, i you get a ew hundred people camping, cooking, and crapping, we`re talking
pollution.`
lorest Lcho smiled with what Adam detected as a touch o condescension. \ou won`t get hundreds o
people this time o year-not with school back in session and the rainy season about to begin. \ou`ll get only the
truly committed-a ew dozen, max.`
A ew dozen. 1hat was manageable. Okay. Now what about the money`
A thousand up ront, or start-up expenses. 1hen a hundred a day. Cash only.`
Adam hesitated, picking at a loose button on his hemp shirt and grappling with the concept o protesting as
a business. le`d neer been motiated by money. I he had any let at the end o the year, he donated it to land
conserancies and groups working to control population growth.
Like I told you on the phone. I take care o the publicity. I notiy the media and arrange news conerences
and ideo opportunities.` lorest Lcho leaned toward Adam and talked aster, like a car salesman about to close
a deal. I`m an independent contractor. I`m insured and I`ll sign a waier so you won`t be held responsible or
anything that might go wrong.`
Covtractor. v.vravce. !airer. 1his was getting way too complicated. Go wrong \hat could-`
Nothing,` lorest Lcho interrupted. Lerything`s cool, bro.`
1hen why-`
Oh, say I got struck by lightning, or ell out o the tree, or got arrested. I you`e signed the contract, you`re
not liable.`
Not liable. 1hat part Adam understood. le wouldn`t need to check with Chuck \amamoto who handled
legal stu or eeryone in town. 1hat was a relie. 1he ewer people who knew the protesters were paid, the
better. Chuck was inscrutable, and stingy with words, but his wie, Maybelline, spread gossip like warm butter,
and one o her hobbies was listening in on Chuck`s phone calls. \hen can you start`
lorest Lcho licked his lips. \ou`e got the cash`
Adam nodded. le kept a thousand in the sae at Passing \ind. le had more in the till. Lnough, he
calculated, to inance a week`s worth o protesting.
1hen I`ll start tonight.` lorest Lcho sprang to his eet and thrust his toes into the rayed rope sandals he`d
kicked o. I`e got a contract out in the car. Oh, it`s not my car,` he assured Adam. I borrowed it rom a
riend. I won`t own a polluting ehicle. I`d like to see priate cars outlawed, but . . .` le shrugged. Buses don`t
run to the places I work.`
No railway stations in the woods,` Adam agreed. As he ollowed lorest Lcho across the deck and down
the stairs to the drieway, he mareled at the number o patches on his worn jeans and coarse cotton shirt.
Could abric really tear in that many places and not completely disintegrate \as lorest Lcho`s outit more
costume than clothing
1he enironmental hired gun pulled two contracts rom a ile older on the passenger seat o an aging
hatchback and spread them on the hood. One or you and one or me. Just sign and date them at the bottom.`
le oered a pen.
Adam made a show o reading the irst ew densely worded paragraphs, then gae up and scrawled his name.
As long as he wasn`t liable, it was okay.
1hanks.` lorest Lcho tossed one copy o the contract into the car and handed the other to Adam. le
smiled, showing all his teeth, his squinty eyes gleamed. By the way, i you`ll check the ith paragraph there on
page two, you`ll see that, in addition to the cash, there are a ew extra items you`e agreed to proide.`

I`e got this election in the bag.` Sheri Greg Lrdman swung his eet up to the corner o his hulking
wooden desk and crossed his arms behind his head. Nothing can go wrong between now and Noember.`
1ourist season was oer and the crime rate on the Oregon coast had dwindled, he inally had time to
campaign or the position to which he`d been appointed in early summer. I`e cut costs and increased patrols,`
he told a ile cabinet in the assured tone he`d practiced or weeks. And I cracked the Grabowski murder case.`
1he ile cabinet, neer a stickler or accuracy, didn`t bring up the act that Greg may hae collected eidence,
but Molly Donoan had conronted Brighton Deeds.
A lucky guess,` Greg snorted. I he`d had a little more time and a lot more cooperation, he would hae
nailed Deeds beore the oerweight oender took Molly hostage during the \hirligig lestial parade.
Greg shited his legs to head o a cramp and scowled at a listing pile o paperwork he should hae plowed
through weeks ago. Molly was a Class A pain in the rear, but she was a major babe with a trim body, curly red
hair, and exactly twenty-three reckles on her nose. \hat did she see in Jerey \ole A poet \hat kind o a
job was that or a man
le smiled as he remembered that \ole was temporarily out o the way. lar out o the way. In louston,
writing haiku poems or a shoe company.
laiku` Greg chuckled. Gie me a break.` laiku sounded more like a sneeze than poetry.
le ran his ingers through his hair, smoothed his uniorm shirt and sucked in his stomach. Molly must be
lonely. Maybe he`d drie up to Deil`s larbor, shake a ew hands, and kiss a baby-i he could ind one that
wasn`t coered in drool. 1hen he`d take Molly out to dinner.
No. le`d stop at Groer`s Clam and lam and get a take-out order. le`d pick up a six-pack o beer-maybe
een some o that microbrew stu-and they`d picnic on a secluded beach. \omen loed romantic, impetuous,
spontaneous crap like that.
le reached or a pad and paper to map it all out.

\hoosh.
Maybelline \amamoto arose rom the ladies` room toilet at the Belly Up Bar and Bait Shop, zipped her hot
pink stirrup pants, and straightened her lowered blouse. She glanced behind her as she headed or the sink.
Dang it.`
Once again the low-low toilet had done only hal the job.
She punched the siler button on the lid again.
\hoosh.
1ake that!`
lonestly, what good did it do to sae water on the irst lush i it always took a second one And sometimes
a ew jabs with the plunger.
\hy were these dratted things so noisy And why did a piece o toilet paper always seem to make its way
back up the pipe and loat back and orth like a piece o seaweed driting with the tide
Satisied that a third lush wasn`t necessary, she washed her hands at the small sink with the aucet that had
been dripping since the turn o the century. She supposed she`d hae to get someone in to ix that. It would be
just like lenri, sel-appointed wastewater conseration watchdog, to check the ladies` room and ine her.
lonestly!
She used one long siler ingernail to shoe a rogue strand o hair back into her orange beehie. \ith lenri
obsessing about eery drop o water down the drain and leaning on her to proide a good example, she`d hae
to put o her post-tourist season intensie deep cleaning.
liroshi, bless his little heart, didn`t seem concerned about her ears that Adam would monkey wrench plans
to sell the town timber and get a new sewage system in beore next summer`s onslaught o tourists. liroshi-
who eeryone but Maybelline called Chuck-had assured her, in his usual terse ashion, that Adam lacked both
money and a legal leg to stand on. No loot, no lawsuit, no dispute,` he`d said. \hat a chatterbox.
She smiled. Speaking o chatter, it was nearly time to drop by the Deil`s lood Cae and hae a cup o
coee with LaDonna Perkins-beore lenri cut o all their water and they were reduced to inhaling instant
coee crystals through straws.

1hank you,` Llspeth lunsaker said as Shelley Perkins set the plate in ront o her and topped o her
coee. It was important to display good manners, Llspeth reminded hersel, een in a case like this, when
Shelley was perorming a paid-or serice and not, in the strictest sense, doing a aor.
\ou`re welcome.` Shelley totaled Llspeth`s lunch bill. Coee and the crab cake special: >4.69. Llspeth had
already done the math and planned to leae a thirty-one cent tip. liteen percent, she rationalized, was merely a
guideline, not a law. Besides, the crab cake looked a little scorched. 1hirty-one cents was more than adequate.
Shelley set the check beside the salt and pepper shakers. Can I do anything else or you`
Llspeth couldn`t pass up that initation. \ou could stop consorting and cohabiting with the boy who sells
that blasphemous ice cream.`
Shelley rolled her eyes.
I`m sorry to be so blunt,` Llspeth said, well aware that she elt not a scrap o remorse. 1he girl needed to
know. And i her mother wouldn`t take a irm hand-Llspeth cast a dark glance toward the table where La
Donna and Maybelline were giggling about something she was certain bordered on blasphemy-then it was up
to someone else in this illage to help raise this nineteen-year-old child. I hae it on good authority that you two
een shower together.` Good authority being a strong pair o binoculars and the gauzy curtain in Ichabod
lerris`s bathroom window.
A slow smile lited Shelley`s ull lips. But Miz lunsaker, you oted or water conseration, didn`t you`
I most certainly did.` Llspeth sat up straighter, proud o haing done her ciic duty. Beore I cast that ote
I asked mysel \hat would Jesus do about the water situation``
Shelley tugged at one crystal earring. \alk on it`
No! Not waste it,` Llspeth snapped. Sarcasm. Lack o respect or her elders. lornication. Shelley`s sins
were stacking up like stones in the walls o Jericho.
Shelley nodded. Showering with a riend means less waste.`
Llspeth elt blood throbbing in her temples, but beore she could retort, Shelley sashayed o. Pursing her
lips, Llspeth glanced once more at LaDonna who was laughing again. She had a good mind to walk out-
without paying or lunch-and neer return to the Deil`s lood Cae.
But that would leae her with no culinary options. She was already boycotting the Belly Up because they
sered demon rum, the Sweete 1emptations Ice Creame Shoppe because o the blasphemous names o the
rozen treats, and Passing \ind on general principles and the act that tou gae her gas. She`d hae to drie to
Groer`s or else prepare all her own meals.
ler ather, rest his soul, had always chastised her or her lack o skill at the domestic arts. She was deicient
both in imagination and in that reckless ability to try anything once. LaDonna had both o those qualities. ler
chicken salad with grapes, walnuts, and red onion was delectable, and the crab cakes she`d had on special or a
week were scrumptious, scorched or not.
Llspeth eyed the jumbo-sized crab cake that sprawled across her plate next to a mound o lrench ries, a
scoop o coleslaw, a paper cup o tartar sauce, and a sprig o parsley. 1hou shalt not waste ood` wasn`t on
those stone tablets Moses brought down the mountain, but . . .
She picked up her ork, stabbed a ry, and halted. ler breath caught in her throat. Jaw dropping in disbelie,
she stared at the grill marks on the crab cake`s golden breading, rotated the plate a quarter turn, leaned closer and
stared some more. \es, there was his hair, his nose, his chin. As she gazed upon it, the crab cake seemed to glow
with an inner light and Llspeth was certain that, aint and ar in the distance, she heard a celestial choir.
\ho would hae thought a sign rom aboe would appear in the Deil`s lood Ca \ho could hae
imagined it would be deliered by that wanton girl
She laid her ork aside and olded her hands. She had been chosen. She would proe worthy. But irst she
must determine what she had been tasked to do.
Again she leaned close, cocking her head to better hear any utterance emanating rom the scorch marks
between chin and nose, the scorch marks that-i she squinted-looked almost like lips. She listened with eery
iber o her being, holding her breath until she elt her eyes bug out. And then she was certain she heard a wisp
o a whisper. Go orth.`
I will,` she breathed. I`ll go orth. But what shall I go orth and do`
Go orth and-`
Crash. Clatter.
Oh, hell,` Shelley yelled rom the kitchen. I dropped the damn silerware tray.`
Suppressing a murderous urge, Llspeth calmed hersel, cleared her mind, and listened once again. Alas, the
crab cake spoke no more.
lin
A412'%) H<;% 7 E1/%& L<.41%( N1-.(<==% 7 94% O+1)-<1,P& 322)%,'<.%
An aid reader o antasy and science iction noels all o my lie, I began writing 1be Cvaraiav.
.revtice in 2002. Ater working on it in its and starts or seeral years, I inally completed a lielong
dream by publishing it in 2010. I lie with my amily in rural Kentucky, along with our our cats. \hen
not acquiring more cats or our plan o world domination ,cat armies are terribly hard to train,, I enjoy
spinning stories rom the wisps o magic around me.
Author website: http:,,www.theguardiansapprentice.com
Author blog: http:,,michaelradclie.wordpress.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,www.amazon.com,-,e,B00409l2UI
Copyright 2010 J. Michael Radclie
94% O+1)-<1,P& 322)%,'<.%
C%(<F%)1'<*,&
A parcel wrapped in plain brown paper had arried at the chambers o 1obias lollett, Chancellor o the
ligh Council and head o the Grey order Neutrality, just oer an hour ago. le was not expecting a deliery at
this late hour, so he regarded the package with some suspicion. It was just past midnight and the wisp oer his
desk gae o a sot white glow, casting shadows across the old wizard`s eatures and making him look pale and
drawn. A thin man already, he looked positiely gaunt as he leaned orward with the seeing crystal in his hand.
le passed the crystal oer the package, which was about the size o a deck o playing cards. 1he crystal showed
him the ial nestled within, and the opalescent liquid it contained. According to the note attached to the
package, the ial contained salamander tears, a ery rare and useul item or potions. 1he writing on the outside
o the package indicated the parcel had originated rom Deadwood & Blight`s, his usual supplier or such hard to
ind ingredients. Although he had a standing order or salamander tears or wheneer they became aailable,
they had been out o stock or months and did not expect a new source or some time.
ovetbivg`. ;v.t vot rigbt, he thought.
le leaned back in his red leather chair and stared at the parcel, still trying to decide i he should open it.
1obias had been Chancellor o the ligh Council now or ie months. lis election came ater almost a year o
bickering among the council members, and he relished the position o power he had inally achieed. As the
leader o his sect, he controlled the otes o three other members while as Chancellor he could threaten, berate
or cajole the otes o most o the other castes. 1he only two he could not control were Cedric 1hornback,
leader o the dark wizards and Phineas \hitestone, leader o the white. Despite this howeer, he still wielded
powerul inluence oer their ollowers. 1he act that Phineas, who sered as the Guardian, could not ote on
matters beore the Council also strengthened 1obias` hand, or so long as Phineas held that position he was so
bound. 1he Guardian maintained control o and watched oer the BlackStar amulet, which created the eil o
separation and diided the magical world rom the non-magical one. As long as he wielded that power, Phineas
was independent rom the Council and one o his subordinates on the Council had to sere as his deputy. 1hat
let the \hite order with just three otes, while the Black and Grey orders still had our.
1obias schemed and plotted or years, until he inally had enough otes to win the post as Chancellor when
old Ludora logle, a ery stern black-robed witch, had stepped down in the midst o a scandal. O course, it
wasn`t his ault Ludora had deeloped a habit o betting on the snark ights - it was a ery addictie sport. le
had simply tipped o his contacts at the Daily 1attle ,ror.t gossip rag he had eer read, and the pieces had allen
into place. Len with the threats, bribes and outright intimidation it still took almost a year, but now it was his!
Perhaps the parcel really was a git o congratulations rom his supplier, as the note said. le sighed deeply as he
leaned orward again to examine the package one last time with the seeing crystal. lis mind must be playing
tricks on him. Ler since his election he had become more paranoid, coninced that someone was actiely
seeking to undermine him, though he had no proo. As he inished examining the package or the ith time, he
set the crystal down on the desk and chuckled. Rubbing his tired eyes with the back o his hands he smiled to
himsel as he picked up the package. le must learn to trust people again. Ater all, his ellow Council members
had been laish in their praise or him since he took oice. Opening the box, he extracted the ial and held it up
to the wisp or a better look. le smiled broadly, as the contents swirled in the pale light and cast prisms o color
oer his desktop. le was still smiling when the contents erupted into a iolent explosion, aporizing the still
smiling wizard and tearing a gaping hole through the side o the castle.
~~~~
1he ligh Council had conened three days ago to nominate a new leader. 1heir Chancellor, the grey wizard
1obias lollett, had died in an apparent ,and rer, tragic, potions accident. 1he resulting explosion killed the old
wizard instantly and destroyed his chambers, as well as a large portion o the castle`s north wing. Although
1obias had schemed, plotted and backstabbed or years, he was still one o their own and would be missed,
terribly.
Cedric 1hornback, leader o the Dark wizards, stood to address the Council. Ladies and gentlemen o the
Council, it has taken us three days to come to agreement on nominations to replace the late 1obias lollett as
Chancellor. I would thereore like to make a motion that we cease this incessant bickering and proceed to a
ote!`
1here were arious nods o agreement rom around the table as the other eleen witches and wizards looked
around the room at each other. \ith the death o 1obias, his deputy stepped into the role o temporarily leading
the meetings until the Council elected a new Chancellor. 1here were only two nominations so ar, both o
whom were heads o their respectie orders. Portia Nightshade, an ardent supporter, had nominated Cedric
while one o the white wizards had likewise nominated Phineas.
Alexander Ducat, now the leader o the grey wizards, rose rom his seat in the Chancellor`s chair. Motioning
or quiet, he glanced rom ace to ace around the table.
lellow Council members we hae a motion beore us. As deputy or our now deceased colleague, I accept
the motion and call or a ote. \ill those in aor o Cedric 1hornback please signal by raising their right
hand`
Portia`s hand shot skyward so ast Ducat thought the witch would actually leap rom her seat, while the other
two members o the Black order also raised their hands, along with Cedric himsel. Looking around the table,
there were no other otes.
I see,` said Ducat. So, that is our otes or Cedric. Now would all those in aor o Phineas \hitestone
please raise your right hand`
1his time the three members o the Grey order raised their hands, as did the three members o the \hite as
well as Ducat himsel. Phineas howeer, did not raise his hand.
Ducat looked at him with a puzzled expression. Phineas`
1he old wizard smiled warmly at Ducat. I will abstain rom casting a ote in this, Alex. As the Guardian I
sere the Council as a whole and do not seek the trappings o power.`
Ducat chuckled at his old riend. \ell it would appear that your ote is not necessary anyway, my old
riend. 1he ote is seen to our - you are our new Chancellor. Congratulations,` he said with a deep bow to
the older wizard.
Phineas nodded politely in return.
1hank you Alex, but as I said I do not seek this oice. I am happy with my position as it is.`
Ducat sat down as he looked in shock at Phineas. \ou`re reusing \ou can`t reuse, Phineas, the ote is
binding.`
As i to emphasize his point, the crystalline sphere that hoered high aboe the Council table slowly
descended, shiting rom a blue-white glow to one aintly tinged with red. 1he crystal, oten reerred to as the
Oracle, had existed since the beginning o the Council when the two worlds were irst separated. No one was
quite sure where it had come rom, but the object radiated pure power and had occasionally interened in
Council aairs. On the rare occasion a debate turned iolent, the orb sometimes chose to petriy both
participants by encasing them in crystal. By the time the crystal aded - usually ie or six days - tempers were
usually subdued and the witches or wizards inoled much more humble.
Len Phineas took notice o the crystal`s descent, rising rom his chair to look directly at the orb. Although
he was the leader o his sect, as long as he held the post o Guardian, his robes were a shimmering non-color to
signal his serice to the Council as a whole and all three orders. le stared at the crystal long and hard or what
seemed like an eternity, until inally nodding his head with a sigh.
It seems I hae no alternatie but to accept the will o the Council,` he said with a touch o resignation in
his oice.
1he arious witches and wizards around the table nodded and smiled, murmuring their agreement ,and
relie, that Phineas had agreed to the ote. Len a couple o the Black order seemed pleased at the decision,
except or Portia. A highly olatile witch prone to outbursts, she was obiously seething at the decision. Cedric
on the other hand remained quiet and sat with an almost stoic expression on his ace. Ducat rose once again,
turning to ace Phineas who continued to gaze at the Oracle.
\e are all grateul Phineas, as the Council desperately needs your leadership. \ou will o course hae to
step aside as Guardian to assume your new post, so the Council will need to name your successor.`
Oh, that will not be necessary, my riend,` said Phineas as he inally turned away rom the crystalline orb
which had returned to its normal blue-white glow.
I`m sorry Phineas, but you hae no apprentice. 1hereore the Council has no choice but to name a new
Guardian.`
I will be naming my apprentice shortly, Alex,` he said with a gleam in his eye. 1he young man is quite
capable and will learn quickly. I will o course bring him beore the Council to that he may be tested, as is
required. Until such time Alex, I would put it to the Council that you remain as acting Chancellor until I may
assume the duties.`
Very well, Phineas, but I must say this is all highly irregular.`
1rust me my riend, I will send or my apprentice at once,` said Phineas as his rose rom his seat. Raising
his sta in the air, a sharp crackle resounded across the room as a portal snapped open. \ithin seconds, the old
wizard stepped through and was gone, leaing the other Council members to exchange puzzled glances.
lin
A412'%) 0<@ 7 N%F%..1 N61(& N+&&%(( 7 B-%&&1Q 0%)1246/ K1)&
Author o MG,\A Dark lantasy among other things, Rebecca Ryals Russell has two series coming out
next year: 1be erab,v !ar. erie. or \A and tarav.t !arrior. or MG. She lies in a Victorian house on
ie acres in North Central llorida with her amily. She also runs a Vacation Rental Log louse on the
property ,llorida Black Bear Cabin http:,,lablackbearcabin.com , It was in this cabin she wrote Oae..a
within 6 months, ater thinking about it or 30 years, but neer haing the time to commit it to paper.
A ourth generation lloridian, she has lied all oer the state except the Panhandle.
1he daughter o an Llementary school principal dad and school secretary mom, or ourteen years she taught Middle
Grades, preerring Lnglish and Creatie \riting. She had seeral students` works published in anthologies. In college she
had seeral stories, poems and photographs published in the college literary magazine and newspaper.
Main interests include her our children, ages 22, 19, 16, 11 and Irish hubby o 35 years. She enjoys spending time writing,
drawing, going to moies and reading. ler aorite pastimes are sitting on the wicker porch swing on a chilly Autumn
eening with her husband and usually a kid or two, drinking a beer and eating mixed nuts while chatting about anything
and eerything, or discussing philosophy and religion with her 16-year-old son oer pizza.
Author website: http:,,rryalsrussell.com
Author website: http:,,www.yellowhatauthor.com
Publisher and book page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2cdrjnn
Copyright 2011 Rebecca Ryals Russell
B-%&&1Q 0%)1246/ K1)&
I`d neer been known or my tact or kind heart. A typical teenager, I pretended I didn`t gie a damn what
anyone thought. But I was always ready to share my opinions. Len when no one asked.
Look at her muin top,` I said, laughing hysterically while pointing to a student in the yearbook. She
could eed a zombie or a year.` 1ears rolled down my cheeks.
Leww! She could eed a amily o zombies,` Nancy said, laughing and rolling around on the bed with her
hands oer her eyes, as though she was in pain. ler own slim igure barely dented the mattress.
I laughed, watching her. She always broke me up - she was such a clown. I took a long draw on the cigarette
and passed it to her.
1hank you, whoeer inented these things. I neer want to eat ater a smoke. lope mom neer inds out,
though.`
Nancy! Do I smell smoke` her mother yelled up the stairs. Len through the closed bedroom door and the
blaring music rom her computer, we heard her mom screaming.
Oh, shit,` Nancy said as she scuttled to the window opening it wider. She tossed the cigarette into the
shrubs below and blew the smoke into the sky then waed her arms around like a maniac windmill.
I laughed at the image she made. It gets in the abric, dumbass. \ou can`t get it out. So what`s she gonna
do Spank you Besides, we`re sixteen. \ho gies a shit`
I rolled onto my back on Nancy`s bed. I`ll neer get at. Or ugly.`
Nancy plopped onto the bed and lay beside me on the pink chenille spread. \e stared up at the pale pink
ceiling. I watched the ceiling an rotate around and around.
\ou really need to update this room, Nancy. It`s been the same since you were ie. Really Princess Pepto
pink` I stuck my ingers in my mouth like I was baring.
Did you see what Mary Jane had on today It must hae been her mother`s or she got dressed in the dark,`
Nancy said rolling oer on her side with her arm under her head. I laughed until tears rolled down my ace into
my hair.
low about Mark lis haircut looks like he did it in the bathroom with nail clippers,` I added. Nancy and I
giggled until our stomachs hurt.
A sudden buzzing startled me. I glanced at my phone. It was the alarm.
Gotta go,` I said, sitting up. I glanced outside. It was past dusk. Oh, damn, I orgot to reset my alarm or
Daylight Saings last weekend. I should hae been home an hour ago. Dad doesn`t like me walking home across
the abandoned lot at night. But it`s the quickest way. \ell,` I stood and looked under the bed or my sandals.
I`ll be home when I get there.` I shrugged my shoulders. \hat`re they gonna do Scream Lecture \hat else
is new`
See ya at school tomorrow,` Nancy said, rolling onto her stomach and propping her hands under her chin.
She grinned wickedly, Maybe I`ll bring that old lalloween wig or Mark to wear.`
I laughed all the way down the stairs enisioning Mark in a gray granny wig.
Good night, Mrs. Campbell,` I called as I went out the door. I heard her muled reply as the door latched
shut. 1he snick echoed in the still darkness o late dusk.
I shiered and looked up. 1he moon was nearly ull with a misty apor o clouds across it, otherwise the sky
was clear. 1he temperature had inally cooled. lere it was mid-Noember and nights were just beginning to get
chilly. 1hat was the part o llorida I hated, the heat lasted so long. I loed the cool crisp air o early Spring and
late Autumn. 1he air risked me ater the stiling warmth o Nancy`s bedroom and I sprinted across the yard and
street.
All around, the trees and shrubs took on a sinister shadowy eel as they waered in the moonlight. A gentle
breeze ruled the leaes - snakes slithering across dry sand. 1hose same snakes slithered up my spine making my
skin crawl. I slowed to a walk, warily watching the cluster o trees ahead on the abandoned lot my dad hated.
Nancy lied two streets oer rom my house and rather than walking down hal a block then back up that hal a
block, I usually cut straight across the creepy oergrown property between our houses.
By day it was no big deal. Paths had been worn through the property. Leryone did it. Most o the windows
in the old house were broken. Bushes and ines coered the wooden siding o the tumble-down shack. Anything
o real alue had been stripped rom the place years ago. All that stood on that weedy hunk o land was a derelict
house nobody wanted.
Still, I hated passing by it at night. I`d heard stories about it being haunted. Kids at school bet each other they
couldn`t stay the night in it. And usually no one did. By two or three in the morning they all said weird things
began to happen and they let. It was rumored one girl een went crazy and had to be institutionalized.
But it was still early in the eening. 1he sky was tinged pink, so I was ine. I I hurried.
I sped up beore I lost my nere. My eyes shited back and orth like a scanning lashlight. I was hal-way
across when I heard something to my right. It came rom the clump o oergrown trees and bushes that lined
the property`s border. 1he sound seemed muled, like when you hold your hand across your mouth to stile a
laugh or sneeze. I listened so hard I elt my ears grow longer. It seemed the woods expanded, too, as I studied
the trees trying to see inside the darkness. My ocus became razor sharp. 1here was no way I was going near
enough to see what had made the noise. I tried talking mysel out o the creeping ear that spread across my
thoughts like thick og. Maybe I`d imagined it. I resumed my pace trying to get away beore I heard it again.
1hen came the scream.
Loud, long and shrill it echoed across the yard. My head swieled this way and that, almost on its own,
seeking the source. My ision seemed to go into een sharper ocus - like when I turned the knob on the
microscope in Science class. I saw the roots o the iy ine climbing the shack and the smallest pebbles o rock
in the dirt at my eet. It was as though I held a magniying glass to my ace. 1hen I heard it again. Another
scream, this time closer.
It came rom behind me. I swung around, my heart pounding so hard I could eel it pulsing in my ingertips.
Len my ears pulsed with its beat. Lerything lit up like daylight, then immediately went black. In that instant o
light I saw three disembodied aces hoering around me. 1hree male aces with laser red eyes and snarling white
angs. I elt something shoed oer my head. My breathing sounded ragged and harsh in my ears. I tried
screaming but only a squeak came out.
Suddenly my eet were kicked out rom under me, throwing me to the ground. Something pinned me down
in the dirt. Rocks dug into my shoulder blades and hips. I tried wriggling but irm hands or knees pressed down
harder and the rocks hurt. lor a moment I assessed my situation trying to think logically. I was blind but I could
hear okay. And unortunately, I could eel.
Low harsh oices whispered to one another aboe me. I heard three distinct oices. Although all three
resembled animalistic growling, one was higher pitched and another slurred his words. 1hey argued about taking
me inside the house or doing` me there in the dirt. 1he dirt must hae won because I wasn`t moed. 1he
pressure on my shoulders increased, pressing the rocks into my bones. Again I tried to shriek but couldn`t.
lello, Myrna,` one o the low oices growled next to my ear. 1he oice was masculine and sent a chill up
my spine. My brain raced through eery male oice I`d heard throughout school or een in the neighborhood.
\ho was this \ho would do this to me I didn`t recognize it. It made my skin crawl.
I turned my head in the direction o the sound. \ho are you \hat do you want` My oice, inally
working again, quaered which pissed me o. I wanted to sound strong - not like some scared sissy.
A hand, scaly and rough, slid underneath whateer coered my ace and clasped my mouth so I couldn`t
speak. \e`re just hain` a little un`s all,` another oice said. 1he slurred speech oice.
I elt my shirt lited. Goosebumps rose on my bare skin as the cool Autumn air blew across my stomach.
1hen a rough, wet surace rubbed against my stomach in a line rom waist to ribs and I realized someone or
something had licked me. Leew! low disgusting. \ho the hell was this lad I pissed o some kids at school
and they were getting back at me \ho low 1hrough tears I regretted my decision to cross the lot at dusk.
Dad was right, as much as I hated to admit it.
\ou really should listen to dear ol` Dad, Myrna,` the high-pitched oice slithered into my ear.
I jolted. low had he known my thought Could he read my mind 1hat was ridiculous. Moie tricks. No
one could do that or real.
My legs were suddenly lited into the air by the ankles o my pants and my jeans slid down my body. I
thrashed and tried to wriggle loose despite the rocks digging holes in my shoulders.
I screamed a muled, NOOOO.` I lipped my head iolently back and orth, grinding my hair into the
dirt. 1he scaly hand remained clasped tightly across my lips.
\ith a sudden pop my shoes were o and my legs plopped back into the dirt. Rocks now pressed into my
bare legs like jagged glass. I elt a pressure on my knees as someone knelt on them. 1he pain was excruciating. I
would be paralyzed or lie.
1hat`s i I lied through this.
1hat`s Il you lie through this,` the low graely oice sliced through my thoughts.
Both o my arms were immobile as one o the men pressed on my elbows. I elt his hot, etid breath on my
ace and neck. le reminded me o a bulldog in heat.
I heard the low sizzle o pants unzipped and the weight on me shited. I lited my head to scream but it was
shoed back against the earth in a brain jarring thud.
I had no chance o escaping these three monsters, whoeer or whateer they were. I simply was not strong
enough. But I reused to gie in.
1hen I remembered my mouth was coered by a hand. Someone`s lesh and blood hand was inches aboe
my teeth. Concentrating hard on that hand I parted my lips, as I elt my legs being orced apart, until my teeth
grasped skin that wasn`t mine. I chomped down as hard as I could.
Blood illed my mouth. I heard a male oice scream in pain. lis hand came away rom my ace and the cool
air smacked my cheeks. I screamed like I hadn`t since I was born. Shriek ater shriek echoed on top o the man`s
screams. I illed my lungs to scream again when I elt knuckles crash into my jaw and nose. lresh bouts o
blood, this time mine, gushed down my throat. I gagged and choked, drowning. I managed to turn my head to
the side. Bloody spit dribbled down the side o my ace into my ear and hair. I`d been so preoccupied with the
hand across my ace I hadn`t een noticed i one o the monsters had accomplished his desired end.
Moments later I heard grunting and thuds. 1he pressure released rom my knees and elbows. 1hey couldn`t
all be inished already. I would hae noticed that, wouldn`t I I ripped o the blindold and sat up. 1aking mere
ractions o a second to adjust to the new lighting my eyes widened in surprise.
At my eet two men ought. I studied them as they punched each other, grunting and swearing. 1hen I
realized one o them was my brother, Quinn. \ith a inal blow to the ace he elled the last o the attackers who
now lay in battered heaps around me. le stood silhouetted in the moonlight. At that moment I loe my little bro
more than eer. I was also thankul or the Karate classes he`d been taking since he was six.
Panting, he glared down at the three men, watching, daring them it seemed, to moe. Apparently satisied he
grabbed my pants rom the dirt, gae them a icious snap, like a whip and knelt beside me.
\ou okay` lis oice was husky with emotion.
I nodded slightly then spat more blood. le brushed back my matted hair rom my sweaty ace then extended
a hand to help me up.
Let`s get you home.`
1!O Y.R .1R
I loated on wings o silence like a piece o dritwood at sea. Colored gases swirled around me like silk
scares, brushing against my arms and legs. It delighted my senses and tingled my nere endings. lor as ar as I
could see, a myriad o colors swam and twirled dipping and rolling around particles o dark matter and glittering
specs o sunbeams in a miniature cosmos.
\here was I \as it a dream I so, it was a beautiul one. Calm. Peaceul. But, I didn`t remember going to
sleep. In act, I didn`t remember anything at all. Lentually I heard sot singing and the sharp but pleasant
ringing o bells. I opened my eyes-had they been shut-and realized I was surrounded by glimmering radiant
beings hoering in the rainbow cosmic cloud.
Mind the signs, Myrna,` echoed in my skull and repeated oer and oer in millions o separate oices in
unison. Mind the signs .Mind the signs ..`

My room was dark when I woke. I didn`t recall going to bed. I shoed the coers o with my eet and stood,
stretching. 1he house was unusually quiet. vv.t be tbe fir.t v. Ater showering I listened while I dressed. titt vo
.ovva.. I went to the kitchen. ^o ove. It was not like my parents to sleep in, especially later than me. I went to
their room.
Mom,` I called, pushing on the door slightly ajar. Dad Anyone up ley, sleepy heads..` I stepped
inside. 1he room was empty. 1he bed was made. My stomach lip-lopped. Marcy`s room was next. I padded
down the hall, pushing on the hal-opened door.
\ou`ll be late..` I didn`t inish because no one was there to hear me. ler room was immaculate--which
neer happened--and empty. Panic pinched my insides. My mind was a jumble o anger and ear. lad they been
murdered 1here was no blood, so that was not likely. People don`t just disappear. I ran to Jarrod`s room and
ound the same thing. I was alone. Sliding down the wall I sat crumpled in a heap on the carpet.
\here did you all go without me` I shrieked at the ceiling, tears pricking my eyes. \here is eeryone` I
ran to the oyer, sliding on the white tiles in my stocking eet. Swiping at my wet ace with the back o a hand I
gasped a shuddering breath.
I lung open the ront door.
lor seeral heartbeats I stood rozen, staring.
As I threw the door shut, the slam rattled the dishes in the kitchen cabinets like bones in a closet. 1he
deadbolt thudded with a satisying crunch. I couldn`t catch my breath. My mind reeled with the impossible
unreality o what I`d seen. I ran back to my room. Crouching, I cried in the corner behind my bed. My room was
still dark and shadows waered and squirmed across the walls like liing shades. I shut my eyes and slid my hands
across my ears to shut out the world.
I had to shut out this world that was not mine.

I must hae allen asleep again because when I woke the room was pitch black and I knew the sun had set. I
looked into each bedroom along the hallway-not surprised this time to ind them empty, but still disappointed.
I was alone. Len when I had been alone at home, I had known I was not atove. 1his was scary. 1his was
complete aloneness. I checked the kitchen and ound peanutbutter and bread which I ate then lay back down in
bed and ell into a itul sleep.
Sometime in the middle o the night, I awoke with a strange sense o oreboding. 1he hair on my neck and
arms prickled. My breathing became ragged and my heart thumped so loudly in my chest I could hear it echoing
in the room. Something wasn`t right. I knew I should go check the door, but I really, reatt, didn`t want to. I was
sure I had locked the door with the deadbolt. Lentually the eeling passed and my eyes shut.
\hen I woke again, that same gray light pushed its way past the edges o my window blinds spilling its
dullness into the room.
It took seeral hours to work up the courage, but I would ind no answers holed up in the house, so I
dressed and took seeral deep breaths beore opening the door again. 1his time I tbovgbt I was prepared.
1he murky gray light that illed the sky seemed watery and weak. Although there was no cloud coer, there
was no sunlight. Dad`s green grass gone, I stepped out o the house onto dirt.
My heart pounded like I`d just inished a marathon. I twitched and jumped at eery sound, spinning rom
side to side. Standing at the end o my yard, I leapt backward when I heard a chug and zip then a pu o steam
eneloped me. A triangular car with a glass top sped down the road. Another headed my direction on the
opposite side. 1he drier sat in the ront o the triangle managing the car with a joystick while two passengers sat
side-by-side on the rear seat. It maneuered surprisingly well and was quite ast.
Leading east and west at the end o my yard, a crushed stone path lined a packed dirt road that ran in ront
o the house. 1o the let and right o the house stood tall and short buildings o eery description. Some seemed
to be stores, others apartment buildings or indiidual homes such as mine. 1all brass street lights stood sentinel
on each intersection.
1oto, we`re not in Kansas anymore,` I murmured sotly. 1rembling, I een looked backward, under my
house or ruby slippers.
A rumble oerhead pulled my attention to the murky sky as a glass-enclosed egg with the silhouettes o
seated people lining its interior loated by. At the rear spun a huge brass propeller. Occasional clouds o steam
escaped into the atmosphere. I grabbed my chest and breathed deeply seeral times, calming my neres.
A layer o black grime coated the buildings and walkways. Many o the windows, edged with the same black
dusting, displayed new handbills showing the image o a child with the question: lae \ou Seen 1his Child`
underneath. It shocked me to realize each ace was a dierent child. low many children had disappeared rom
this city and where did they go
I walked down the path to my right.
People wearing an odd assortment o costumes passed, staring at me. Some o the men wore bowler hats
while others had ormal top hats and long-tailed coats. I wondered i I`d been thrown back in time to the
Victorian age. I`d seen pictures like this in listory class. 1he women wore long dresses with pinaores and
bloomers. Most wore wide-brimmed hats mounted with eathers and other doodads. \hile gawking at the odd
modes o transportation and dress, I had paid no attention to where I was going. I was immediately inormed o
my error.
\atch where you`re going, lunchmeat,` a low oice growled next to my ear. I turned my head to apologize.
1here was no one beside me. \et I next elt deliberately jostled so hard I ell against a building scraping my arm
on the rough wooden siding. laen`t you eer seen a Skiibuss or 1ricar beore Imbecil,` the oice continued.
I stopped and turned around to apologize, assuming the man had walked quickly past me. But the words
stuck in my throat when I realized he was the largest man I`d eer seen. Mother` pearl!` I muttered, eyes
roing rom eet to hat. le stood easily oer eight eet tall. le wasn`t at, just...big. le wore a black top hat and
cape. I wondered or a split instant how he ound clothes to it. le casually spun a black cane topped by a gold
dragon handle with glittering diamond eyes. le must hae realized I was staring at his back because he turned
just his head, like an owl, grinned maliciously at me with a lick o red slit eyes and swieled back around.
lin
A412'%) 0%;%, 7 0+&1, D%(%,% O*''=)<%- 7 9)%;*)P& 0*,5
Susan lelene Gottried is the author o baebifter: 1be Devo 1ae. - Year 1, baebifter: 1be Devo
1ae. - Year 2, and 1reror`. ovg. She can be ound online at http:,,westomars.com , where you can
ind 1he Meet and Greet, among other goodies.
A tone-dea rocker-at-heart, Susan worked in retail record stores, in radio stations, as stage crew, and as
a promoter while earning two college degrees in creatie writing. Susan walked away rom a continued
career in the music industry in order to write books, so it makes sense that most o her iction reoles around rock bands.
Once you get those record stores, radio stations, and ellow roadies and promoters under your skin, they neer leae.
\hen not writing, Susan captains the team at \in a Book, a promotional site or authors and book bloggers - and
readers like yoursel.
Author website: http:,,westomars.com,west-o-mars,the-books
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,23zlr9
Copyright 2010 Susan lelene Gottried
9)%;*)P& 0*,5
9N:8BN
Reabeaa.
"Motherucker."
One heart-elt word ended 1reor \ol's third try at jimmying his best riend's ront door, and common
sense -- let alone his back -- was screaming at him to just gie up already. As i it was so easy, Mitchell had
actually blown him o the night beore, and when Mitcbett 1o.. blew someone o, it was serious. Like any other
person on the planet, the big idiot had his aults, but dependability wasn't one o them. Neer had been, neer
would be.
Nope, something had to be up. Something big.
1hat alone squelched 1reor's thoughts about giing up and going home. Ater all, Mitchell was, in his own
way, amily. I things were dierent and it were Mitchell worried about 1reor, there'd be no quitting until the
damn door opened. 1here was no way 1reor could just abandon Mitchell, een i he truly wanted to. \hich he
didn't. 1ruly.
le straightened up to stretch that kink out o his back, push his hair oer his shoulders and out o his ace,
and take a ew deep breaths beore acing the lock or the fovrtb fvc/ivg tive. It made no sense, when his sister's
lie had been at stake, he'd jimmied ber door with his eyes swollen shut, but now, when he doubted the big idiot
was actually dead, he was, once again, a useless shit. Just like lank had spent all those years insisting he was.
Just like Mitchell's parents had spent more recent years trying to tell him he wasn't. And just like
ShapeShiter ans proed beyond any doubts, at eery record store and eery concert. 1reor \ol was vot a
useless shit. le was important. lis ans said so.
1he lock clicked. 1reor was in.
lis irst thought was that i Mitchell baa died, he hadn't started to stink yet. 1reor wondered how long it
took beore a corpse smelled, he almost regretted passing on his chance to ind out. "\oulda sered that
motherucker right," he mumbled, remembering lank's almost nightly transormations.
1reor shook his head in disgust, choosing to beliee tbat particular asshole was wrong. lank might hae
been good or nothing, but that didn't mean his Number 1wo Kid was the same. Not een close. e was 1reor
lucking \ol. Accept no substitutes. Or losers.
1reor looked around or signs o a struggle or any sort o clue that might explain what had happened to
Mitchell, but the apartment looked like it always did: an electric guitar abandoned on the otherwise empty couch,
the coee table piled high with music magazines. Paperwork oerlowed the small iling cabinet in a nearby
corner and had begun an urban sprawl across the small dining table, sparing only a single, crumb-coered
placemat. Amps, cords, picks, strings, ideos, and mountains o CDs littered the rest o the small room.
Sadly, the walls hadn't been disturbed. 1he ShapeShiter posters, the promo pictures, and the lyers
adertising shows played years ago were all ine and good, they looked exactly like the walls at his own place.
\hat grossed 1reor out about tbi. collection was the thick concentration o pin-ups eaturing ShapeShiter's
ery own Mitchell Voss -- a.k.a. the asshole he was currently worried about.
Someone who didn't know any better would think the guy had a narcissitic complex or something, een
though it made sense that Mitcbett got all the attention. It wasn't just because singers were hot, especially when
you gae them a guitar. Mitchell was a total chick magnet, a act that got exploited shamelessly by the band's
publicity team. It was that long, silery-blonde hair that 1reor had always hated and those hazel eyes that
changed rom green to blue that did it. 1he girls couldn't get enough -- and neither could the losers who did the
band's publicity.
Mitchell's bedroom was dark, but 1reor peeked his head inside anyway, hoping he'd ind something helpul.
le didn't really expect to ind the guy himsel, sometimes, a man had to be lexible about where you slept. It was
a policy that had sered 1reor pretty damn well in lie until he discoered Mitchell's parents. 1hey'd answer his
knock at the door no matter what time, clean most o the blood o his ace, and point him to the loor o
Mitchell's bedroom. All without giing him a sermon or too much ake sympathy.
No sympathy needed here or now, either. Mitchell ra. sleeping. In his own bed. Alone, too, although that
was the only non-surprise. 1he guy was anatical about his reusal to bring girls home. Onto the tour bus, no
problem. Backstage with the guys around and watching, een less o an issue. A hotel room. so long as she
didn't spend the night, but then again, Lric was the only one o them who didn't hae tbat as standard operating
procedure. But his apartment
lorget it. 1hat bed he slept in was probably as irginal as Mitchell would hae been without 1reor around
to ix things. Girls were vot welcome in Mitchell's home. lell, most people weren't.
"\ake up, rock star, and tell me how you almost died last night." le jiggled Mitchell's oot through the
blanket.
"No," Mitchell said. le wrapped his arms around a pillow and rolled onto his side, kicking his oot ree.
"Dick, you blew o Stacia last night."
1bat got his eyes open. "luck."
"Somehow, I doubt you got to," 1reor told him blandly. le sat down on the edge o Mitchell's bed and
reached or a cigarette. 1here had to be at least three ashtrays in the room, and at least one o them probably
wasn't oerlowing.
"Lh, it was worth it," Mitchell said, stretching. le kicked some more until 1reor stood up and glared back
at the guy, his cigarette still unlit and the ashtrays still hiding.
"^otbivg is worth missing Stacia or," 1reor told Sleeping Beauty, not sure what was going on here. Mitchell
had learned the art o properly appreciating women rom the king himsel, and Stacia desered more attention
and appreciation than any our other girls combined. So what was Mitchell's problem
"I don't know, 1re," the big idiot said and yawned. le sat up and tossed his hair oer his shoulder, a totally
gross glamour-boy moe that had the women two apartments oer sighing. "1his one's something else."
1re elt his jaw drop as it sunk in. Mitchell had blown o the city's best stripper or . what Some random
chick that he'd ound all by himsel
Impossible. Mitchell didn't ind women on his own. On the rare occasions when he tried to, they couldn't
come anywhere close to Stacia. "So who is she" 1reor asked eagerly, expecting to hear o a new dancer in
town, one who'd somehow managed to aoid his detection.
Mitchell shrugged and scratched his chest. 1re ignored him, he knew the motions o Mitchell's waking up as
well as he knew his own. 1oo many years o sleeping on the guy's bedroom loor, ollowed by years o touring --
irst packed into the back o Mitchell's truck, then, when the band graduated to hotel rooms, as the guy's
roommate again. In another minute, he'd light up a cigarette o his own, oer 1reor the lame, produce one o
the missing ashtrays, and spill eery last detail about this girl. All 1re had to do was wait.
"She's this artist chick I'e been talking to at the grocery," Mitchell said without reaching or the traditional
wake-up cigarette. "\ait 'til you meet her." le stood up and took the two steps to the bathroom. "And, 1re
She's a redhead." \ith a wink, Mitchell closed the door behind him.
1reor gasped audibly as his brain tried to do the calculus. A redhead. an artist. instead o Stacia 1he
only woman whose hair was as blonde as Mitchell's, and as natural 1he only woman who could do that thing
with her tongue while she did tbat thing with her little inger
le decided he couldn't wait or Mitchell to reappear, so he stormed the bathroom. Mitchell, mouth oamy
with toothpaste like some rabid dog, gae him a mildly inquiring look.
"\hat's this chick got that Stacia doesn't hae She can't be better in bed. No one is. 1rust me."
"No thanks." Mitchell spat the rabies oam into the sink and rinsed. "Sorry, 1re. I know that hurts."
1reor staggered a ew steps to the side, needing the wall to hold him up. \hile he wasn't surprised that
Mitchell ignored his antics, he wasn't pleased, either. 1hose had been good theatrics, his hand clasped to his
chest, his breathing coming short. lor maximum authenticity, he'd een dredged up the old eeling o trying to
swallow his panic. "low can you not care about tacia" he asked. "I you're interested in women at att, you're
interested in Stacia."
Mitchell just shrugged, and that's when it hit 1reor. 1he big idiot had gone and allen in loe with this
redheaded artist chick.
1re wasn't aking this time when his legs gae out rom under him and he wound up sitting down hard on
the bathroom loor.
"I wouldn't sit there," Mitchell said, as mildly as eer, as he stepped past 1reor and pulled a pair o jeans out
o one o his dresser drawers. "loward's reusing to pay Michelle again so she hasn't cleaned in awhile. Some
ucking tax thing, he's gotta lighten up already or I'm iring his ass and I don't care bor good an accountant he is.
I rovt lie in a ilthy apartment."
"\ou covta clean it yoursel."
"Yov could stop whining at Ma until she does it or you."
"1ell me about the girt," 1reor groaned. le got up mostly to ollow Mitchell, like be cared about a little dirt
on the bathroom loor Please.
"Last night was the irst time we really talked," Mitchell said, this sort o awe creeping into his oice. 1reor
peered careully at him. "\e got started oer by the bananas," Mitchell said like it was too weird to beliee, "and
the next thing I knew, we were closing Victory's."
"Bananas will do that to a girl," 1reor agreed, wagging his eyebrows at Mitchell, who reached out to swat
the back o 1re's head.
"Get serious."
"Okay. \hat'd you get at the grocery" le was, as always, hungry. Neer haing ood in his place didn't
help, and his day so ar hadn't produced many chances to grab something. \hich was all Mitchell's ault, anyway.
le'd wound up in such a rush to make sure the asshole hadn't died that when he'd gotten gas or the bike, he'd
ducked inside a Quick Mart and wound up with stale cupcakes. lor breakast.
le was stared, plain and simple. I Mitchell had ood, he was tbere.
"Come on, you ucking mooch," Mitchell sighed. le led the way into his cubbyhole o a kitchen and jumped
easily onto a square o counter that was barely bigger than the knees that suddenly occupied it. le stuck his head
in a cabinet. "1here should be some pancake mix let. Lric said he hadn't inished it."
1reor strained to hear Mitchell's muled oice. It was useless to say that he didn't like pancakes. Mitchell
knew. And, like the brotherly-type he was, Mitchell didn't care. le knew 1reor would shut up and eat almost
anything -- including, their irst time in Ldinburgh, haggis. I he'd suried that smelly shit, he could surie
anything Mitchell could concoct on that grill o his.
Mitchell pulled out o the cabinet, the pancake mix in his hand. 1he ine dust that ell out when the box was
upended made 1reor suspicious.
"\eren't you at the grocery to pick up last night's dinner Start cooking."
"No." Mitchell jumped down and disappeared into his bedroom. \hen he returned, haing added a t-shirt
and his usual black tennis shoes to his oh-so-ashionable attire, he motioned 1reor out o the apartment.
"Or was the redhead dinner" 1re asked as innocently as he could.
Mitchell snorted. "I need .ovetbivg to eat tonight. I'm sick o going out so damn much." le smiled
indulgently. "Len i she ra. worth it. 1re, I'm telling you."
"\here we headed" he interrupted, not oerly surprised when Mitchell grabbed his beat-up leather instead
o his tour jacket. 1he guy looked like a slob. le could hae been anyone instead o ShapeShiter's oh-so-hot
rontman. Probably wanted to be, too.
1reor tossed his head, eeling his hair moe in a sheet, it was so long. 1reor \ol reeked o rock star, not
o who he'd been. 1bat kid had been let behind, almost rom the day the Vosses had said he would lie with
them.
"\e're going to Roach's, o course," Mitchell said. "I'll drie."
"1hat's 'cause your sorry ass is too chicken to get on my bike."
"Ater last time, my ass is glad to be atire."
"\our ass would'e been een happier today i you'd kept your date last night."
"I doubt that," Mitchell said and took another companionable swipe at the back o 1reor's head.
lin
A412'%) :<54' G E*4, 01/+%(& 7 B;%).*/<,5 3CDC K<'4*+' L%-<.1'<*,
John Samuels is a middle school science teacher who currently works in the public school system. le has
also tutored children with special needs and is certiied to teach ligh School Psychology. 1he Association o
\outh, Children and Natural Psychology was ormed to proide practical help or those wishing to
oercome mental health diiculties without using psychiatric drugs. 1he book is ailiated with the A\CNP
and its non-proit work.
Author website: http:,,www.winmentalhealth.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,25sd2ja
Publisher contact: Salesnortheastbookspublishing.net
Copyright 2006, 2010 AYCNP
M*,=<.'<*,
Important Notice:
The information presented in this book is for informative purposes and not intended as a medical directive. By reading
this publication, the reader acknowledges that treatment choices and options are at the sole discretion of the parent or
individual, who must take responsibility for medical decisions involving themselves or their children, along with the
participating physician, treatment or child study team. n reading this book the reader acknowledges that the
Association for Youth, Children and Natural Psychology or anyone quoted in or associated with this book, bears no
responsibility for one's own decisions regarding health or mental health, for both him or herself or one's children. By
reading this book, the reader acknowledges that he maintains full responsibility for their own medical and mental
health decisions for both themselves and their children. This book complements, rather than replaces professional
treatment, when such is necessary.
Footnotes and reference texts have been removed for this sample use.
B;%).*/<,5 3CDC K<'4*+' L%-<.1'<*,
A412'%) B,%Q K41' <& 3CDCR
S)%;%,'<*,
Pregnant women, who smoke, drink alcohol or abuse drugs put their uture children at greater risk or
ADlD. Good prenatal care, good diet when pregnant and regular isits to the doctor are essential. Breast
eeding may also help the baby to bond with the mother, and the mother to the baby, and this can be another
aectie preentatie measure.
K41' <& 3CDCR
Jennier`s son Matt has always been diicult. le would tear through the house like a tornado, shouting
kicking and jumping o urniture. Nothing kept his interest or longer than a ew minutes, and he would oten
run o without warning and mid-sentence, unconcerned about bumping into anyone or anything.
Jennier was exhausted, but when Matt was in preschool, she wasn`t too concerned because she guessed,
boys will be boys.`
loweer, it was a struggle to try to get Matt to cooperate, and when he entered third grade, his disruptie
behaior and inattention in class raised the red lag o his teacher. Jennier took Matt to the pediatrician, who
ater a short interiew, inormed Jennier that Matt most likely had ADlD. 1he best thing would be to prescribe
stimulant medications, which he might not need to take or the rest o his lie, but most likely or the rest o his
school years.
Jennier was relieed and concerned at the same time. \hile she was happy to hear that Matt had a
diagnosable condition, the prospect o her son being on medication or ie or more years distressed her. \as
medication really necessary Is ADlD really a condition, were some o her questions. \hat about the side
eects \hat would the medication do to his body 1he pediatrician reassured Jennier that eerything would
work out ine, and sent her home with a prescription.
0*/% &6/2'*/& *= 3CDCQ
Poor concentration, distractibility, impulsie behaior, careless mistakes, diiculty in controlling anger.
Inability to complete tasks, diiculty sustaining attention towards the task.
lyperactie behaior, excessie actiity, idgeting, squirming, running, climbing excessiely.
Poor listening skills.
1alking excessiely, blurting out answers beore hearing the whole question.
Daid Rabiner, rom Duke Uniersity, an expert on ADlD, describes Attention Deicit lyperactiity
Disorder ,ADlD,, as a disorder characterized by a persistent pattern o inattention and,or
hyperactiity,impulsiity that occurs in academic, occupational, or social settings.`
Some o the problems associated with ADlD include, making careless mistakes, ailure to complete tasks,
diiculty staying organized and becoming easily distracted.
Some other issues are associated with hyperactiity, such as idgetiness and squirminess, running excessiely
or climbing, inability to exercise sel-control or sit still in class, inappropriate or excessie talking, being
constantly on the go, impulsiity and impatience, diiculty waiting one`s turn, blurting out answers in class and
requent interrupting, among other problems.
Rabiner explains that Although many indiiduals with ADlD display both inattentie and
hyperactie,impulsie symptoms, some other indiiduals show symptoms rom one group but not the other.`
K4* <& 1==%.'%- F6 &6/2'*/& *= 3CDCR
ADlD is usually considered to be a childhood condition but its symptoms can be present with some
adults as well.
ADlD symptoms are maniest with poor concentration, impulse control, lack o attention or ocus.
ADlD sometimes includes hyperactiity, which may be the case in perhaps 40-0 o ADlD diagnoses.
3-10 o children in each state ,U.S., - 2.5 million school age children - are diagnosed with ADlD.
Up to 2,3 o children who are diagnosed with ADlD also hae a secondary disorder, such as
depression, an anxiety disorder or 1ourette Syndrome, or they may be diagnosed with Oppositional Deiant
Disorder ,ODD, or Conduct Disorder ,CD,
Since eery child displays some o the symptoms associated with ADlD, when is ADlD diagnosed Simply
put, when symptoms are prolonged and disruptie to the daily lie o the child ,or adult,.
3CDC 1,- 0.4**(
ADlD most requently is initially addressed through the schools system. A teacher may oten raise the irst
red lag. 1he child is ealuated and a child study team works with the child, teachers and parents. I a certain
number o symptoms are considered to reach a leel o intensity and duration to the point that is intereres with
a child`s ability to sustain day to day actiities oer an extended period o time, this can result in label o ADlD
or the child.
1he beneit o this is that it enables educators and the child study team to gie extra time and attention to the
indiidual child. A person assistant might be made aailable also. Parents can take appropriate measures to
educate themseles and make adjustments in their parenting and this might help to oset the child`
predisposition towards hyperactiity or distractibility. Lducators can also work at proiding positie educational
solutions or these indiidual students. 1he extra attention gien to a child in many orms, along with
adjustments that parents might make, oten can be key actors in a child improement.
\hen educators and psychologists make a diagnosis o disorders such as ADlD, there is usually a certain
amount o subjectiity in the interpretation o the symptoms, that is, it depend on how an indiidual
psychologist or team iews and interprets these symptoms. Computer aided tests are also interpreted subjectiely
rather than purely scientiically.
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1bo.e .tvaie. rbicb attribvte ivcrea.ea graae erforvavce to veaicatiov, v.vatt, ao vot aetiveate betreev tbe bevefit. of tbe
veaicatiov, ava tbat of av, of a vvvber of otber ivterrevtiov. beivg aavivi.terea at tbe .ave tive, girivg a vi.teaaivg ivre..iov
tbat tbe o.itire acaaevic gaiv. are attribvtabte to veaicatiov, rbev iv fact, tbe, va, be tbe re.vtt of tbera,, .eciat eavcatiov,
ivcrea.ea attevtiov beivg girev to tbe cbita, or otber cbavge..)
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1o be noted: Not all agree with the labeling system as it relates to the many psychiatric disorders. A tendency
has deeloped based on what is known as the medical model` o psychiatry, which is the most common
platorm in 21
st
century psychiatry, but not necessarily uniersally accepted, een in the proessional community.
Additionally, there are other models o psychology which more help to more ully explain the arious dynamics
inoled in the deelopment o mental health disorders and or mental health in general.
1he medical model inoles identiying symptoms, matching symptoms to a list that has been denoted in the
DSM-IV, the psychiatric book o disorders, determining a label or the disorder, and prescribing what is deemed
appropriate medication or that label. 1herapy is sometimes used in conjunction with the drug treatment.
loweer, in modern psychiatry, based on the medical model`, therapy, educational remediation, parental
training, or psycho-education, is oten gien secondary consideration, and sometimes gien ery little, i any,
consideration. In reality, sel-help and liestyle changes need to be considered with any psychiatric diagnosis, and
in giing attention to these, many, or een most o the symptoms o ADlD can be addressed.
Studies hae indicated that children who spend time outdoors can receie beneits o a positie reduction in
symptoms o ADlD as a direct result. ,Kuo, l.L., Ph.D., 1aylor, A. Ph.D., 2004,. It is also possible that
children who watch less teleision ,or who spend less time playing ideo games,, might also beneit in terms o a
reduction in the intensity o symptoms associated with ADlD. ,Cristakis, D., 2004,
Some parents who hae cut out 1V and ideo games or their children during the week, hae seen a dramatic
improement in the ability o their children to concentrate on their schoolwork and to ocus. Some hae ound
that attention to diet results in positie beneits in one`s symptom proile. ,Personal notes, obserations rom J.
McNu, 2005,.
1he labeling o the symptoms o ADlD as considered in this book, is a practice that can be controersial,
and that in some countries ,such as Britain,, has been resisted by the proessional community up until airly
recently. ,Britain has not been so readily disposed to prescribe medication or ADlD as has the U.S.,
Additionally, the practice o labeling a person, my son i. ADlD,` my daughter i. bipolar,` is also something
that is not encouraged by many, including many adocacy groups and goernment mental health agencies.
1hereore, this brochure tries to aoid labeling those who hae symptoms o ADlD as beivg ADlD, but rather
as haing symptoms which are associated with ADlD.
An excellent and balanced resource on the issue o labeling in mental health, especially as it relates to
children and teens, is the book, Ptea.e Dov`t abet M, Cbita, by Scott Shannon, Ph.D., a child psychiatrist with
years o experience in helping children and parents with a wide ariety o psychiatric issues.
0<,5(% S1)%,' H1/<(<%&
A disproportional number o children rom single parent homes are diagnosed with ADlD. Poor amily
structure can be a actor. Lack o control in home can lead to problems in the school. loweer, other actors
can be inoled. Children need loe, time and attention rom parents and strong emotional attachments. \hen
these are lacking, it can contribute to behaioral and attentional problems in school.
Many sincere single parent struggle to make a liing and to proide a loing home in which to raise a child.
1he challenges o both working and raising a amily can leae one with little energy to meet both the physical
and emotional demand o raising children. 1his can make it diicult or some parents to proide the idea
situation or their children.
Many principals and teachers are a source o unconditional loe or children, who might not otherwise
receie acceptance or loe in their lies. Because teaching style can make a signiicant dierence in the lie and
success o a child, teacher are encouraged to be patient and to help children to succeed, as well as aoid being
unreasonable or harsh. Children are oten in school or a better part o the day, many are in ater-school
programs, including those which help children with homework.
Much is expected o teachers in terms o helping children to perorm well academically, but it must also be
noted that there are actors in school at home, and in the community, which can contribute to a child`s
diiculties in succeeding academically. 1here are multi-aceted dynamics inoled in a child`s success, and this is
most likely true with mental health issues such as ADlD as well. ,See Urie Bronenbrenner`s bioecological
model o mental health, in contrast to the medical model` o mental health, which is commonly used as a
oundation or labeling and drug treatment,.
K41' A1+&%& 3CDCR
Joel Nigg, Ph.D., author o the scientiically oriented book, !bat Cav.e. .DD., who is an associate
proessor o psychology at Michigan State Uniersity, coeys the idea that the causes o ADlD can be many
and aried, but that there are causes. Some o these can be:
S)%,1'1(Q
Prenatal exposure to drugs, alcohol and smoking.
Prenatal exposure to some prescription drugs.
Babies born prematurely hae a greater risk o symptoms associated with ADlD.
O%,%'<. H1.'*)& - Children may be born with a predisposition towards the symptoms o ADlD or
depression. Other children in the same household, who are not genetically predisposed, might not deelop these
same symptoms.
:,;<)*,/%,'1( =1.'*)& - 1here is some eidence that certain enironmental contaminants can contribute
to the deelopment o symptoms o ADlD in certain children. Some that are mentioned by name are PCB`s,
lead and mercury oerexposure or poisoning. ,Nigg, J., 2005,.
0*.<1( =1.'*)&Q
3' 4*/% - 1he need or strong emotional attachment, or lack thereo, can contribute to symptoms o
ADlD. lamily problems, amily instability, or a disorderly home can be contributing actors in a child`s inability
to concentrate or ocus or some children.
3' &.4**( - 1here is some eidence that the classroom enironment might be one area where attention can
be gien with regard to improing some symptoms associated with ADlD. ,Rabiner, March 2010. Also,
locusing on Instruction, 1eacb .DD).
0*.<1( =1.'*)& - Social isolation or the need or riendships and positie ,non-electronic0 recreation might
also be contributing actors in some o the symptoms associated with ADlD.
S46&<.1( M%%-& - 1he need or good diet and nutrition, exercise, can be o importance when considering
both childhood and adult ADlD. 1his can also be true or depression. Diets low in sugar and low in reined
carbohydrates can help or good general health, but can also contribute to goo mental health.
1his can mean doing without donuts, cakes, candies, cookies, white lour, white rice - instead, eat whole
grain oods, brown rice, whole wheat lour and healthy snacks, as a general rule o thumb, and without taking it
to extremes. 1his can be o some help or many children with ADlD symptoms. Proiding snacks which are
natural, rather than highly processed oods which may hae many added chemicals and addities, can make a
positie dierence. Mayo Clinic states that while it is unlikely that ood addities cause ADlD, it is possible that
hyperactiity might be aggraated by some ood addities.
Children need to eat three healthul meals a day. A healthy, regular breakast is essential or a child`s ability to
concentrate in school. I a child skips breakast regularly or regularly eats high-sugar oods, it can contribute to
some o the symptoms o ADlD and,or depression or children who hae that predisposition, especially when
present with other contributing actors. Girls, who are diagnosed with ADlD, are more likely to be o the
inattentie type, boys tend to be hyperactie, ,Mayo Clinic,. It stands to reason, that or a girl who does not eat
regularly, does not eat breakast and skips other meals, this might be contributing to her symptoms o
inattention. 1his has been obsered in the classroom.
In Newark, NJ, implementation o a School Breakast program resulted in a 95 participation during the
2008-9 school year. School breakasts went rom 8000 per day in 2004 to 25,000 per day during 2008-9. Other
cities o note were Columbus, Ol, and Boston, MA. ,Lssex News, lebruary 2010,.
One o the problems, though, with school breakasts, is that many are o ery low nutritional alue and high
in sugar content: lruit Loops, Apple Jacks, sugary muins, Pop-1arts, etc. 1here needs to be eort in many
school districts to proide a consistently more-nutritious breakast to children, one that is consistent with the
health education that children and teens receie in class. Some school districts hae done that.
L%-<1 - Long hours with the media, teleision, moies, ideo games, and Internet might aect the mind
and behaior o many children. Content, such as iolent content, excessie action-iolence or cartoon iolence,
as well as horror moies and pornography or sexually disorienting material, might also be actors which
contribute to symptoms o ADlD, depression, or bipolar disorder, or some children, teens ,or adults,.
3CDC? F<2*(1) -<&*)-%)? 1,- *'4%) -<&*)-%)& *) .*,-<'<*,& !<'4 &</<(1) &6/2'*/&
Symptoms that are eident with an ADlD diagnosis can also maniest themseles in disorders such as
bipolar disorder. One clinical psychologist in a public school candidly acknowledged that it is diicult to
accurately diagnose disorders |such as ADlD and bipolar disorder| in children because the symptoms o the
arying disorders oerlap. 1he same symptoms oten maniest themseles in dierent disorders.` Psychiatrist
might treat a client or both ADlD and bipolar disorder, or might mistakenly prescribe certain medications
through an inaccurate diagnosis.
One o the reasons or this is that ealuations are most oten subjectie rather than being scientiic. In one
recent study, it was concluded that oer hal o the clients being treated or bipolar disorder were misdiagnosed.
,Zimmerman, M., June, 2008, July, 2006,. 1his was determined through a more-accurate, scientiically-oriented
analysis o the symptoms o each respondent, than is usually the case. \hat was apparently true, in this study, o
bipolar disorder o oer- or misdiagnosis, may also be true o ADlD as well, suggest Sharna Olman`s research
in ^o Cbita eft Differevt. Olman is a clinical psychologist and associate proessor o psychology at Point Park
Uniersity in Pennsylania.
Mayo Clinic states that there are symptoms that resemble ADlD in the ollowing disorders or conditions:
learning or language problems, mood disorders ,such as anxiety or depression,, hyperthyroidism, seizure
disorders, etal alcohol syndrome, ision or hearing problems, 1ourette Syndrome, sleep disorders and autism.
Also o note, some o these disorders are diagnosed in as many as one in three children diagnosed with ADlD.
3CDC <& ,*' (<=% '4)%1'%,<,5
ADlD poses not imminent danger to a child. A child might be more accident prone, but with a little extra
attention by parents, this needn`t be a major concern and the probability o medicine ixing that problem is not
certain. O encouragement to parents is what is stated by Russell Barkley that ADlD is not a pathological
condition or a disease stage`. Rather, it is a natural or deelopmental orm` o the disorder ADlD, and then,
should not be considered some grossly abnormal pathological condition.` Instead, it is described as a condition
that is not qualitatiely or categorically dierent rom normal at all, but likely to be the extreme lower end o a
normal trait. 1hus the dierence is really just a matter o degree and not a truly qualitatie dierence rom
normal.` Dr. Barkley states, 1his should help eeryone iew ADlD rom a kinder perspectie.`
L<&'1>%, <-%,'<'6Q A4<(- 3F+&% 1,- 0(%%2 C<&*)-%)& 1)% *='%, /<&-<15,*&%- 1& 3CDC
A4<(- 3F+&% 7 Children who hae been sexually abused hae mistakenly been treated or ADlD or bipolar
disorder. 1reatment and care or children who may hae been ictims o child abuse o any type is much
dierent than the treatment or ADlD or bipolar disorder.
1hereore, caregiers and proessionals need to be ery discerning beore recommending pharmaceutical
treatment. Recoery rom child abuse is neer as simple as prescribing a pill, and requires a multi-dimensional,
long-term eort. Support, therapy, and especially loe and acceptance, are critical or recoery. A peaceul home
lie, stability, approal and reassurance are o necessity to the extent possible, rom amily, caregiers, teachers
and mentors.
A4<(-)%, !<'4 &(%%2 disorders - hae also been mistakenly treated with medications or ADlD. Children
who are haing trouble sleeping are oten misdiagnosed with ADlD.
1here can be many reasons that children are haing diiculty sleeping and there can be practical solutions as
well. One counselor recommends a wind down` period, on hour beore going to bed. Also, keeping the
teleision, ideo games and Internet out o the bedroom can be o help to many children. Making sure children
do not iew stimulating moies or play stimulating games beore bedtime can be o help.
Children need exercise, as do adults. lealthy outdoor actiities are demonstrated to help many children with
symptoms o ADlD and depression, as well as being an aid in helping a child or adult to sleep better at night.
A4<(-)%, *='%, *+'5)*! &6/2'*/& *= 3CDC
O encouragement or parents o children with ADlD symptoms, is that up to 35, some say 50 o
children and teens, who hae the symptoms labeled as ADlD, outgrow thes4e symptoms and no longer all
within a classiiable range. ,Barkley, R., 2008, p.49,.
Symptoms and behaioral issues may be most diicult or the teacher in the classroom, or sometimes or the
parent, but ADlD seldom poses imminent danger to the child or to classmates.
lin
A412'%) M<,% 7 A6,'4<1 L%6%)&GD1,&*, 7 L6 3)/B) 7 L6 T<=%
My irst book inished the copyright process in 1994 being marketed by a small publisher. It recounted
my mother`s trip to leaen and back beore cancer won. ler story illuminated deathbed predictions as
well as the minor miracles happening in Lake Mary in 1990-91. Ater that book did well in Orlando,
only, I ghostwrote similar stories or people who deied potentially lie ending situations and came back
with Dirive 1ate.. My writing ollowed inspirational souls as non-ictions as well as ictions because
some indiiduals wanted to maintain their autonomy. I, also, wrote upliting pieces centered on
goodwill and miracles. 1wenty years later, ater my lie changing trip, I had to oercome a partial shoulder replacement,
which almost led to amputation and caused my let arm to reject typing as well as other tasks or months. \hile
recuperating, with one hand, I wrote my story. M, .rvOr ;M, ife) is a snippet o my lie, the outcomes o mom`s
deathbed predictions, and my recoery- All in One.
Author website: http:,,mchanson14.blogspot.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,234a6n
Lulu.com author page: http:,,stores.lulu.com,mchanson14
Copyright 2010 Cynthia Meyers-lanson
M*,=<.'<*,
L6 3)/B) 7 L6 T<=%
U C16 V '4% S1)>
1he day elt warm enough yet balmy and breezy enough to enture outside o the house giing in to cabin
eer. Ater dressing my two girls or the local swimming hole, a spring that puddles in an area beore dumping
gallons o rosty water into the St. Johns Rier- we hopped in the car ready or a great day.
It`s ice cold!` One o my daughters exclaimed ater dipping her oot into the lightly swirling current.
Look!` 1he other chuckled, My toes turn blue when I put them in the stream!`
\ou hae to submerge yoursel quickly to get oer the shock o the water.` My body reused to heed my
adice while my mind warned that i I didn`t get acclimated to that rigid current quickly that my children`s
cannonball leaps would toss rosty showers my direction. 1hat eent might cause repeated minor chilling
tremors ruining my wellbeing. leeding the adice o my brain, my eet slipped rom beneath me dunking my
body to my shoulders. Sure enough, the pouncing happened splashing arctic waes into my ace, which elt
bearable due to the rest o my condition.
Oten, my mind wandered and wondered. I thought about how the earth`s core is molten hot but the spring
water rom underground arries reezing and caes are just as chilly. My mind contemplated how hot the sun
elt on days like that day but how when you climb a mountain seemingly closer to the sun snow sometimes still
holds its ground- there. 1hese types o enigmas make no sense to a rational mind, so, my brain toyed with these
ideas beore realizing how much there is to learn in a lietime.
My kids made waes and those wakes brought me back to the truths o that moment. I had much to learn
and share with those two beings tossing water in my eyes and nearly blinding me to all reality. Oten, my mother
chirped, laing children is wonderul. \ou`e created a soul that will one day see the magniicent ace o
God!`
\hen she`d talk that way, in spite o my growing belie that le exists and cares about humans, I stayed
secular thinking, \ou hae one more indiidual that has to ace death. \e all want to be in the Last
Generation` because then we might get to bypass the coin!`
Another idea drited in and out o my mind. \hile iewing a religious moie as a kid- I can`t remember the
title- my eyes locked in on a man. le stood up rom his daily tasks o menial labor as a slae, stared into the
ace o Jesus, and knew his prayer to meet the expected Messiah had been ulilled. In that moment, as a child, I
elt my spirit stir wondering i my thoughts were my own or lis \ill. 1here was concern not elation at being in
the last generation, Reelations in the Bible is a hard thing to digest. 1he last group o humans might
outmaneuer placement in a coin but they will go through some worse trauma.
Suddenly, an eerie eent brought me back to the spring, as we rolicked, a school o Garr ish raced nearby.
1hose are the ugliest water creatures,` My eldest daughter pointed out.
Get me out o here ast!` My other child whined.
I one o us let, all three had to exit the nearly rozen stream. Spring had sprung as we raced or shore.
\ill the water get warmer by summer` My youngest wanted to know een though the ish meant she`d neer
eel comortable in that rier.
\es, because it will be hotter,` ler sister answered.
1hat is why it will eel colder- here,` My educational spiel started. 1he boil tosses its water at the same
temperature year round. 1he hotter the weather, the colder the water will eel een though it comes out at the
same exact degrees all the time.`
\on`t the sun warm it` 1hey asked in unison.
No, the water pours out so quickly that it can`t be heated up enough,` I explained. Once in the St. Johns,
downstream,` My hand pointed ar away, it may warm up as it mixes with that water.`
Oh, yeah! 1here are too many trees, here. 1hat`s why the sun can`t heat it ast enough.`
It`s how ast the water lows out o the spring.` My comment tried to ix her thoughts to the real reason,
again.
\eah, the rier has less trees dangling oerhead so the sun can warm the water, there,` ler sister added as
they understood nature rom a child`s eyes. lor the time being, I halted my lecture.
L%1, 02<)<'%-
As we dried o with our beach towels, a ruckus met our ears. \e igured the youngster complaining
showed her rustration with the icy stream. ler erbal abuse o the woman beside her became agitating or all
o us, nearby. 1he girl appeared to be younger than my our and six year old but her language brought to mind
sailors and bars. As we passed by the quarreling pair, my eyes drew towards the lady`s ace while my mind tried
not to judge the out o control kid on her arm.
As she practically pushed the girl along the sidewalk, the iciousness coming out o the child`s mouth caught
us by surprise. \onder why she is so mad` One o my kids expressed concern as I escorted my ospring past
the trauma by gently pressuring their shoulder blades.
\ou mother .er, stop telling me where to go!` 1heir peer shouted loudly and repeatedly.
My mind wanted to stop and help the woman control the situation with some well-worn adice but my heart
knew that might just come across as arrogance about my parenting skills erses hers. As I passed by the duo, the
caretaker looked me square in the eyes. Ignore her bantering, my child can`t control her behaior. She`s a
demon child, my daughter has a syndrome.`
My ears made me laugh as they added to her words making me think the woman said, 1hreats Syndrome!` I
belieed- that because that little one shouted all kind o eil warnings to her caretaker in a loud, cussing manner-
that her caretaker might be right
\hat surprised me wasn`t her mother`s explanation o the disease aecting this girl`s behaior. Instead, the
equating o her ospring to an eil spirit loored me. 1aking one last peek into the little one`s eyes, I naiely
asked that allen angel to let go o the child`s soul. No youngster should be that iendish with the spoken word.
\hat`s wrong with her` My oldest tugged at my sleee as my other daughter distanced hersel in the same
manner as she did her body rom the Garr lish in the nearby chilling waterway.
My soul shiered, She has a disease causing her outburst.`
\e should pray that she gets better,` My children naiely pondered a solution aloud.
\eah, we should,` I uttered as a whisper. Looking backwards, my soul calmed as the iolent chattering
subsided. \ere our prayers answered, already
Interrupting the plague, one o my girls eagerly asked, ley, can we isit those people`
On the path back to our car sat an older home. A nearby sign indicated that this house was once the estate,
owner`s residence beore the spring became a state park. As the whitewashed structure met my eyes, thoughts o
eilness lurked conerting into ghosts and troubling ideas. My mind wondered i the place was haunted or not.
My spirit counseled me not to go in een though my girls` inquisitieness spoke about entering that building.
Contemplating poltergeists while driing home that day, my logic decided that phantoms might simply be
our mind allowing antasy to become reality. Many think specters are human spirit with uninished business. I
God is in charge, souls cannot be truly lost in the sense o not knowing where to go, could they \hen 1he
Creator talks o lost le means to lades and in sinul behaior as opposed to the idea o not knowing who you
are or where you come rom- spirits cannot suer ALZ.
As my mind analyzed these thoughts, I wondered about that disease that robs the mind o memories and a
lietime o education. Possibly ALZ or any terminal disease proides time to mend broken ences and personal
lies, it may be God`s way o allowing people that struggled emotionally oer a lie time to drop all the pretense
o this world beore joining lim. Possibly, lie-threatening illnesses supply the chance to know the end is near
and gies that soul time to complete their lie`s work leaing no uninished business. My religious education
corrected my wandering thoughts because some people neer ind the way to inish what was started or repent
their past.
Lingering in my candid point o iew, my rationalization o unexplained things continued. 1he Deil and his
agents can use your ears and tidbits rom history against you. 1hey can conjure up your expectations gien hal
a chance. I think ghosts are eil spirits wandering through historical stories while reenacting the scenes or
generations. 1hey know what happened and share just enough to gie the curious the lee Bee Gee Bees.`
As I contemplated these ideas, chills raced up and down my spine. As i lightning passed through it, the hair
on my body tingled standing them on end. My mind quickly thought o Scooby Do` so that relaxation o my
heightened anxiety could pass. My internal chuckle crossed my ace in a broad smile. Needless to say, due to
rumors o ghouls as well as being clammy rom our preious experience at that particular park, we neer entered
that whitewashed manor in any manner- not during any o our uture park trips, either. All our isits had more to
do with swimming and un than isiting historical sites.
lin
A412'%) 9%, 7 3,-)%! :" W1+=/1, 7 K4<(% 94% 01;15% 0(%%2&
Andrew L. Kauman is a reelance writer and author liing in Southern Caliornia, along with his six
Labrador Retrieers, three horses, and a ery bossy Jack Russell 1errier ,who, incidentally, thinks she
owns the place,. lis new noel, !bite tbe arage tee., a orensic paranormal mystery, takes place in
the ictitious town o laith, New Mexico.
Ater receiing his journalism and political science degrees at San Diego State Uniersity, Andrew
began his writing career as an Lmmy-nominated writer,producer, working at KlMB-1V, the CBS ailiate in San Diego,
then at KCAL-1V in Los Angeles. lor more than ten years, he produced special series and coered many nationally known
cases, including the O.J. Simpson 1rial.
Author website: http:,,www.andrewekauman.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,www.amazon.com,Andrew-L.-Kauman,e,B003RR3MQ\
Copyright 2010 Andrew L. Kauman
K4<(% 94% 01;15% 0(%%2&
01--(%F1.> N1,.4
H1<'4? M%! L%@<.*
1he clock struck midnight.
Something in the air seemed to change. Something sudden, mysterious, and illed with bad intent. \ind-
drien clouds gained momentum, swirling into the path o a iery moon.
\hat once was settled began to stir. \here there had been order, there was unrest, and rom the gathering
darkness, new lie emerged.
1he sort born o pure eil.
Deputy Bradley \itherspoon elt an odd chill run through his body but didn`t know why. le`d parked along
a shadowy rontage road running parallel to the Saddleback Ranch, one o laith`s oldest and more established
cattle producers. Barely driable and punished by years o neglect, deputies oten reerred to the old dirt path as
the Reueling Station. 1ranslation: the perect spot to stay beneath the radar and catch-up on much-needed
sleep. lor those working swing shit, it seemed a good place to ind reuge and restore sanity-or at least meet
up with it or a brie isit.
On a scale o slim to none, chances waered near zero that anyone would bother making the trip to check on
the deputies` whereabouts. One needed only trael a ew eet down the pitted path to understand why: a igilant
pack o cattle dogs kept close watch oer the property. More than capable o making themseles heard, they
remained on the lookout or the irst sign o unwelcome company. 1his gae the deputies enough warning to
wake up and look sharp in the unlikely eent someone aia arrie to check on them. \ith all those saeguards,
you might think it diicult to catch a deputy dozing o.
\ou would be wrong.
\itherspoon caught himsel nodding o seeral times beore driting toward a more restul state o sleep
that didn`t last long. le woke to the sound o stirring behind his seat, a rustling noise, like plastic bags rubbing
together. Beore he could turn around and inestigate, he took a swit blow to the head rom something cold and
heay, something metal. Right away, he elt a warm liquid trail rom his ear. Blood trickled alongside his neck,
then into his lap where it began to pool.
le tried getting his bearings, but another piece o thick metal slammed into him, this time just below his
Adam`s apple, it coiled around his neck, pulling him straight back, jerking him hard against the headrest.
Panic struck. \itherspoon reached up instinctiely with both hands, choking or air, trying rantically to pry
the hook loose. But beore he could ree himsel, the other hook came swooping down, landing inside his
mouth, piercing skin, and driing a hole through the side o his cheek. Like a catish snagged on a line, he elt his
jaw jerk wide open, ar beyond its normal limits. 1he skin on his neck and ace tightened as both hooks worked
in unison, ratcheting into lesh, stretching it in directions it was neer supposed to moe.
Bradley \itherspoon understood his lie was about to end. le knew each shallow breath could be his last.
1ears rolled down his cheeks as he thought about his wie, his kids, about neer seeing them again. 1hen he
prayed or death to come quickly and end his pain and suering.
No such luck.
1he deputy elt a sharp tug, ollowed by an intense rush o pain as his captor yanked him between the two
ront seats and toward the back. 1he assailant pulled him out the rear door-hook still lodged inside his cheek-
and launched orward, leading the deputy by the mouth. \itherspoon let out a shrill, childlike scream. lis
attacker answered back by jerking the hook harder, continuing to drag him.
In a haphazard, clumsy manner, \itherspoon scrambled across the ground on all ours in a desperate
attempt to keep pace. 1he slower he moed, the more intense the pain became as the orward moement tugged
at his lesh. le wanted to look up at his assailant but could not. 1he hook inside his cheek assured it. 1urning
his head would hae drien the hook deeper into his skin.
\itherspoon could not keep up any longer. lis body was just too weak. le stumbled, lurched orward, and
elt his skin split and separate as the hook sliced across his cheek, shiting position, and penetrating deep into the
roo o his mouth. lrom there, it moed higher into his sinus canal. Blood began draining into the back o his
throat. le choked as it spilled out rom his mouth and down the ront o his chin.
1heir journey ended at the oot o an old eed shed topped o with a rusty metal roo. 1he assailant grabbed
\itherspoon by the shoulders, pushed his heel into the small o his back, then shoed him orward seeral eet
where he slammed into the ground, ace irst.
le tried to get up but the attacker leaped on top o him. Grabbing a lock o hair, he yanked the deputy's
head close to his lips and in a breathy oice whispered, Just curious: how`s it eel to know you`re about to die`
\itherspoon recognized the oice. le elt his gut tighten, then a warm, wet sensation slowly crawl between
his legs.
lin
A412'%) :(%;%, G A41)(<% A*+)'(1,- 7 94% D<--%, K<(( *= '4% C)15*,
1he author writes under the nom de plume, Charlie Courtland. She graduated rom the
Uniersity o \ashington with a B.A. in Lnglish Literature with an emphasis on creatie writing,
and a minor in Criminology. She was born in Michigan and currently resides in the Seattle area
with her husband and two children.
Author website: http:,,www.bitsybling.blogspot.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2demzxz
Copyright 2010 Kelly L. Lee
94% D<--%, K<(( *= '4% C)15*,
N*&% D<(( 01,<'1)<+/
1he nurse's crisp white skirt swept through the doorway o my room. It`s time or your medicine,` she
said, bending oer the night table. ler perect posture matched the staunch twist o her bun.
1he sanitarium was a sadistic place, with its whitewashed walls and airy light. 1he days seemed to last
oreer, and the birds outside my window neer ceased their incessant singing. I had arried a ew days earlier
ater I had my spell. 1hat is what the doctor called it, a .ett, and my oluntary admittance was a precautionary
measure. le recommended I admit mysel, so I could hae around the clock care by proessionals. le told me
not to worry, reminding me oer and oer again that it was temporary. lis knitted brow reealed how distressed
he was by my relapse. I knew the look. It was the ear o death-not his, but mine.
Are we eeling better` the nurse asked. She was now drawing the curtains. I braced or a burst o
sunshine, but instead I was greeted by a amiliar oercast. Oh dear, looks like rain,` she said. It was sunny
earlier, but it seems those big clouds oerhead hae chased the cheer straight away.`
I glanced at the bottle o medicine centered on the tray. I could taste the bitter burn already in my throat,
and the thought o choking down another course caused an instant gag relex.
1he nurse rushed to my bedside and poured a cup o water. Oh my, are you choking laing trouble
breathing` she asked. She sat me up and gae a hardy thud to my backside.
I coughed and shook my head. I swallowed a mouth ull o water. It was like trying to orce a wad o cloth
down my throat. I took another sip, and this time the liquid moed smoothly.
1here, there,` she cooed, giing me a pat as she released her irm hold on my arm. Just needed a bit o
water, didn`t you`
I wanted to spit in the basin, but I knew there`d be blood. I could taste it, the metallic taint playing on my
tongue. I didn`t want the nurse to see it, I didn`t want to alarm her. I knew the dierence between concern and
a trace amount, and I was certain this was just a trace that settled oer night.
I`m not dying,` I said. I tried to ix my hair, but it was a mess rom rolling around on my pillow all night.
O course not milady. \ou`e caught a chill, but at your adanced age the doctor wants to make certain it
doesn`t turn into something more serious.`
I`m not that adanced,` I grumbled.
Oh, o course not. I didn`t mean to imply,` she explained. I only met that as years pass we become
susceptible.`
I was always taught the young were susceptible, and the old wise,` I said. I sneered at the nurse, knowing
ull well that any look I shot her would be intimidating.
\ou`re quite right, quite right,` she said, giing an agreeable nod.
1his woman was no un, no un at all. I wasn`t going to get a rise out her today, so I decided to let it go.
Shall I pour your medicine,` she asked, pointing to the ial.
I rolled my eyes. Very well.` I knew she wasn`t going to leae until I drank.
\our riend across the hall got the most loely bouquet o lowers rom her amily yesterday. Did she show
them to you` she asked as she shoed a spoonul in my mouth.
I had a choice, either spit it out or swallow it quick. Down it went, burning all the way, right into my gut
where it warmed and bubbled.
\hen I stopped shuttering rom the awul taste I said, She`s not my riend. I don`t een know the
woman.`
Oh, I thought she isited.`
More like she wanders in,` I said. I waed at the door. She doesn`t een know where she is. She just lets
hersel out and roams up and down the hallways. Perhaps, you should put a lock on her door.`
1he nurse pulled a ace. She might be a touch out o sorts, but she`s harmless.`
1he woman`s an imbecile,` I grumbled.
Milady!` she exclaimed.
Oh don`t look at me like that. I`m old and dying. I can say what I want. \ho`s going to tell Are you
going to tell` I asked.
1o my annoyance, she planted her broad hips in a chair. I was hoping she`d pick up the tray and leae, but
apparently she took my remarks as an initation to engage in urther conersation.
Some people can`t take a hint,` I mumbled.
She pretended not to hear me. She looked around the room. Not a single letter, ramed picture, or een a
ase o lowers decorated the space. Nothing personal showed except or the dressing robe thrown oer the end
o my bed. Do you hae amily` she asked.
\hat a presumptuous question I thought. Do I look like I hae amily`
\ell your condition came on suddenly, and perhaps you did not hae time to pack all the things you might
want to hae with you.` She olded her hands in her lap. I see all you`e brought is a bundle o papers. Are
you writing a journal`
Don`t you hae other patients to tend too` I asked.
She pressed her lips together and made a ace like she`d just eaten something terribly sour.
Oh all right, i you must know, I`m writing a story or my great god son.`
ler eyes lit up. A story! low wonderul, what`s his name.`
I was once in loe with his grandather, Count Drugeth,` I said.
Oh my, I bet that i. a story,` she said, interested.
It is indeed.`
I`d loe to hear it,` she said. ler posture slacked. I took this as a clear indication she wasn`t going
anywhere.
\our patients,` I reminded.
Oh, you`re the last on my route. I don`t hae to make rounds or a ew hours.`
Just my luck, I thought.
I looked toward the window. 1he gray cast hung as i the world were stuck in perpetual dusk. I`ll make you
a deal. I you take me out there, I'll tell you a story,` I said.
She glanced at the window. I don`t know. I`m not sure the doctor would approe.`
low am I to recoer i I can`t get a breath o resh air` I asked.
I think it`s best i we stay inside. I`ll sit here, and you can remain comy in bed,` she said, treating me like a
child.
I crossed my arms and closed my eyes. In that case, I`m eeling sleepy. Perhaps you should go bother
someone else.`
1here was silence or a ew moments. I kept my eyes pinched shut. I heard the scrapping o her chair and
her distinct ootsteps march out the door. I peeked to see i she had gone. 1he room was empty. I grabbed the
basin and spat a bloody string o spit. I looked around or a place to hide the bowl. 1here weren't many
options, so I shoed the eidence beneath the table.
A noise broke the silence and echoed down the hall. As the sound grew closer, my breathing quickened. I
heard a squeak and then a curse as the nurse jimmied the contraption through the door. I we`re going outside
you`re riding in one o these,` she said.
I couldn`t help grinning as I kicked the coers rom my eet and dragged my dressing robe around my
shoulders. \hile I umbled with the ties, she got my cape rom the bureau and wrapped it around me beore
liting me into the chair.
I`m not helpless,` I said. I can walk you know.`
I know, but I don`t want you haing another episode and blacking out again.` She olded a blanket oer my
legs and ixed a hat upon my head.
I elt such joy as she wheeled me away rom the sick bed and toward the doors. I eel like a child sneaking
out,` I whispered. Once outside, the resh air burned my tender lungs as I sucked in a breath. I didn`t care. It
was a good hurt, an alie hurt, and I welcomed the discomort.
\here shall we go` she asked, pausing or a moment on the walking path.
I told her I wished to rest by the park bench. Ater she had me situated, she arranged hersel beside me. I
noted she took special care not to soil her starched white skirt. ler uniorm was a symbol o independence and
she was prideul o her Christian duty.
\hen she was appropriately postured, I spoke. I began to tell her my story. Not the story I was writing or
Count Drugeth about his grandmother, but my story. I told her about my mother alling ill and how I went to
sere as a lady in waiting to the Countess Bathory. I spoke o my loe or George and how it was not meant to
be. She was sad by the news, but brightened when I introduced Draco Lorant to the conersation. In a way, I
shared Llizabeth`s story while I shared my own because it was impossible to tell one without telling the other. I
ound it rereshing to talk and hae someone listen. At the time, I didn`t know i I`d eer leae Rose lill, or i
I`d ulill my promise to Count Drugeth, but I was going to try. I wasn`t ready to die, not yet.
So Llizabeth`s grandson just appeared one day on your door step` the nurse asked.
I nodded. le was seeking answers about his amily. 1here is so much he doesn`t know, so much he
doesn`t understand because history has it wrong, well, not all wrong, but distorted.` I leaned orward, placing
my hand on her knee. I eel that beore I leae this world I must set it straight. I owe it to him. I owe it to
Llizabeth,` I said.
I must know,` she said. Is it true Did the Countess Bathory really do all the horrid things they say` She
lowered her oice een more. \ith the blood, did she do those things with the blood`
I patted her leg. 1hat`s the question, and I`m araid it requires a complex answer. It is not one I can gie
with a simple yes or no. It`s much more complicated, and that is why I must write it down. It is the singular
reason I will get well and leae here to return to my home. \ou see I am determined to inish the story or
Count Drugeth. Ater all, I made him a deal. I he ollows his heart and marries his beloed Kate, I agreed to
share the truth about his grandmother, Llizabeth Bathory. I suppose I can be accused o orcing his hand to
choose his heart oer tradition." I paused. 1hat was exactly my intention. "Admittedly, I blame tradition or all
the wrongs Llizabeth suered and this is my way o making it right," I explained. "At the time when I ell ill I
still hadn't receied word o his decision, but I am hopeul and determined. I cannot help but antasize about
trading my written git or a wedding initation, a symbol o sacriice or loe." I took a deep breath. A iolent
burn branded my lungs causing my eyes to water. I wish I could tell you more my dear, but I made a promise.
A promise to my mistress and a promise to Count Drugeth, and I intend to keep it." I discreetly wiped my tears
while blaming them on the breeze. "loweer, I can tell you this much, there is both truth and lies in eery
rumor. 1rying to decipher which is which is the delicious part. Remember nothing is exactly as it seems,
nothing!`
She nodded, taking my words seriously. She was listening so intently that I hardly think she noticed my
extreme discomort.
A ew raindrops hit the ground and rustled the leaes aboe our heads.
\e better get inside beore we are soaked to the bone,` she said, taking hold o the handles on the chair
and giing me a hardy push toward the doorway.
low soon do you think it will be beore the doctor will see me it to leae` I asked.
Since there is no blood in your spittle and you are complying with treatment I will make a positie
recommendation regarding your recoery.`
I smirked. I had beriended the nurse and with little eort she was already imagining a bond. 1he poor
doe was naturally good-natured. "I`m ery eager to get home, ery eager," I repeated.

I continued to hide the basin o bloody spittle rom the nurse and within a week the doctor lacked reasons to
keep me conined. le mixed seeral ials o medicine or me to take home including strict instructions to
ollow and recommended dosage, which I assured him repeatedly, that I would do. I had eery intention o
complying because I did not want to return. I I were to die, I wanted to do it at home, and only ater I inished
my story.
1he nurse gae me a big hug ater she packed my belongings and ordered my trunk to the carriage.
I`e personally sent word to your household in Vienna. Lerything will be in order when you arrie. I am
certain they`ll be thrilled to hae their mistress home,` she said, with a brae smile. She was a bit choked up, but
pleased to see me leaing under my own will and not by way o a wooden box through the body chute.
Let`s just hope I still hae my siler,` I said.
She laughed heartily.
I`m serious, the serants will rob you blind when you`re not looking,` I said.
Oh milady, you are too much!`
I gae her a quick hug and adjusted my hat. I was ready to go home. Lach step I took down the hall
required considerable eort, but I was determined to exit under my own strength. My breathing labored and my
hands trembled as I gripped the side o the carriage, and heaed mysel up the ootholds. Once inside, I let the
tickle building in my throat out. I coered my cough with my handkerchie. A small spot o pink soiled the
delicate white linen. t`. ;v.t a trace, I thought. It's just a tiny trace. I tucked the handkerchie in my pocket and
rested my head against the seat cushion. I was going home, probably to die, but still, I was going home.
lin
A412'%) 9!%(;% 7 3/< $(1.>!%(-%) 7 94% 04<='%)& *= XYZY
Ami Blackwelder is a orbidden romance writer in the paranormal and historical romance
genre. Growing up in llorida, she went to UC and in 199 receied her BA in Lnglish and teaching
credentials. She traelled oerseas to teach in 1hailand, Nepal, 1ibet, China and Korea. 1hailand is
considered her second home now. She has always loed writing and wrote poems and short stores since
childhood, howeer, her noels began when she was in 1hailand.
laing won the Best liction Award rom the Uniersity o Central llorida ,\es, 1be tair !itcb Pro;ect Uniersity,,, her
iction lrom Joy \e Come, Unto Joy \e Return` was published in the on campus literary magazine: C,re.. Dove and
remains to this day in Uniersity libraries around the country. Later, she achieed the Semi-linals in a Laurel lemingway
contest and published a ew poems in the 1hailand`s at magazine, and an article in the 1hailand`s Peote newspaper.
Additionally, she has published poetry in the Korea`s .M magazine, the .vericav Poetic Movtbt, magazine and 1ri.tea
Dreav. Magaive.
Author website: http:,,amiblackwelder.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,www.amazon.com,Ami-Blackwelder,e,B0031P09VS
Publisher website: http:,,tinyurl.com,28oz4p6
Copyright 2010 Ami Blackwelder
94% 04<='%)& *= XYZY
.verica 2010.
1bree ecie.. Diriaea orer.. 1be Race i. ov for Ptavet artb.
S<,.%)&
art, Marcb
In the early morning, Melissa Marn rushed down the hall, her high heels clicking against the marble loor,
and her white lab coat billowing behind her. 1he SCM ,Shiter Counterinsurgency Military, ID badge dangled
rom her lapel, bouncing with each step. Dr. Bruce \ilder, a ellow scientist, ollowed with just as strong
determination. 1he intensity in his dark eyes, and brows shited at inward angles, told eeryone to moe out o
the way.
Please, don`t do this,` Bruce begged behind her, quickening his step, but Melissa moed aster. She jerked
her head back in his direction, her hair whipping around.
I hae to. I don`t hae a choice. Just like you don`t hae a choice,` she argued. 1heir heated words hit the
walls o the SCM base, initing public ears. Bruce gripped her arm and swung her around to ace him.
Don`t,` he pled one last time.
Melissa lowered her head, sighing. I I don`t, someone else will.` She twisted away rom him and hurried to
turn the corner, disappearing rom Bruce`s sight. le shook his head, returned to the lab and quieted his mind
with busy work.
Melissa raised her head as she entered the Obseration room. 1his order, howeer disagreeable, required her
participation. ler career balanced on successully accomplishing such experiments, on such moral ambiguities.
Rejecting Colonel Raul`s commands would only lead to punishment, and een dismissal.
1o a ciilian, the order would hae oered a choice. Discharge would not be that bad. Returning to lie, to
reedom, would bring relie. But to the well-trained SCM, to Melissa, no choice existed. 1he weight o guilt,
disappointment, ailure and rejection would stink and hang between her and her ather or the rest o her lie.
She couldn`t accept that. ler ather would neer accept that.
ler ingerprint identiication opened the sealed doors. She walked through to two specially ormed plastic
cots where two alien shiters had been held since six in the morning. Drained o color, they were nearing death.
Another shiter dangled against the back wall, clinging to a web o rubber tubes. 1he grey luid within him
pulsed in and out o his body. \ithout consciousness, the shiter hung to be studied, examined, probed.
1he rubber locks that held the two shadowy shapes to the cots had been especially designed by SCM
scientists to preent shiters rom breaking ree, the same rubber-jelly used around the iron bars in the cages o
the holding room. 1hree restraints rom the bottom, center, and top ensured each shiter had no wiggle room. A
ew scientists, along with Colonel Raul, stood behind the obseration glass aboe the lab. L-boards and ideo
cameras documented all the data, eery detail and discoery.
\ou may begin, Dr. Marn.` 1he ominous, deep oice o the .olonel pierced her ears.
1he needle Melissa injected into the irst shiter caused the yellow hued internal light to licker. Paiv. She
sucked a grey luid, some kind o blood, rom the body. ler assistant, standing beside her, prepared to take the
tube o shiter luid away. Placing the tube into the masculine hand, belonging to a ace Melissa hardly noticed,
she readied her mind or the next step.
She pointed an elongated metal stick with a sharp point oer the shiter`s lower jelly-body. ler hand
quiered a second beore she remembered the .olonel watched her, examined her, like she was the experiment.
Ater a moment o hesitation, she pierced the jelly-skin, slowly inserting to reach the cylinder o light. 1he
photons lickered and shards o photons propelled rom the shiter`s malleable body.
1he heat o the light burned Melissa`s uncoered orehead and she withdrew a minute beore returning to
inish. She lowered her ace mask and continued inserting the long metal stick. Pincers emerged rom the end
and broke o a small amount o the cylinder beore retreating back inside the metal stick.
Melissa pulled the stick out with precision. She wanted to inlict as little harm as she could in this inhumane
research. But then, the shiters didn`t remind her much o anything human, or o anything liing. 1hey had
inaded Larth in 2020 and, since that time, had acquired the ability to turn into animals or humans or short
periods o time.
1he assistant took the metal stick away rom Melissa and placed the pseudo-biopsy into a plastic red bag next
to the bagged tube o grey luid. Melissa curled her lip in disgust with hersel, with her predicament. But curiosity
drew her orward. She knew conducting this kind o biopsy when the shiter had died would not proide as
useul inormation. 1hey needed to study the cylinder o light while it still lied.
1hen the .olonel commanded the third part to the research. Let`s hurry up, Dr. Marn. \e must inish
studying these...things... beore lunch. I hae a meeting.`
Melissa`s glance darted to the glass up behind her. 1hen, a knie sliced a thin piece o the jelly-body o the
shiter, leaing the entity lickering in dimming lights, causing the shiter beside the cot to jerk in attempts at
reedom.
As the shards o intense photons lew rom the wounded shiter, Melissa approached the second cot and
raised the electrical prod. 1he rod o electricity stung the jelly-skin o the prisoner, and jolted the already ueled
photons to oercharge. 1he shadow shited into a human, then a bear, a wol and then returned to the shadow
shape as i each change oered a better chance at reeing itsel rom the rubber locks. 1he shiter conulsed or
seeral minutes while the yellow lights turned gold and then black.
Melissa turned her head away and reused to watch the deliberate pain inlicted, to merely learn how much
electricity the SCM needed to wound, stun and kill shiters. Once the shiter returned to a still state, the shadow
regained what Melissa called consciousness, and the blackness retreated as yellow lights returned.
\hy doesn`t it just transorm into a mouse and slide out rom under the braces` scientist Ned 1esk asked
rom behind the glass.
It must transorm into only liing animals, and must also occupy at least the same amount o space. Like
water, luid in orm, it can alter to the container`s shape. But whateer it chooses to alter into, the shape will
always remain at least as large as a human, still limiting itsel underneath the clasps,` scientist Roger lurre behind
the glass responded.
\e need to know how they transport, penetrate,` the .olonel`s harsh oice interrupted oer the intercom.
Moe on to step ie.`
Melissa hit the red button on a screen aboe her. Manipulating dierent enironments, a box aboe the cot
lowered and when it opened, plastics, rubbers, metals, nano materials, and inally wires extended one-by-one and
lowered to the prisoner, testing each material`s eects.
\hen the wire extended oer the jelly substance, the jolted shiter disappeared. 1he scientists pressed their
aces against the glass or a closer iew. Melissa glanced up at the wire and the usual pink hue ell rom her ace,
instantly recognizing what the shiter had done and the power it wielded.
\here has it gone` the .olonel shouted. scientist Samantha Croon scrambled or a solution, an answer to
soothe him. 1ossing e-papers, she replayed the ideo.
Inside the wire,` Melissa commented with a grin, either at the genius o the DNA code o the shiter
species, or at her talents as a scientist and obserer.
1he room illed with silence and then the shiter who had anished spilled out o the wire and reassembled
oer the hard loor. 1he shadow shape metamorphosed into a large white bear, thrusting wide paws at the
assistant. Growls permeated the room. Melissa leapt toward the wall behind her while the large beast clawed the
assistant dead. lis lieless limbs ell, his head hit the loor with a thud and Melissa jumped at the sound.
1he .olonel hit his palm against an emergency knob next to the sealed door, causing red lights to alarm and
beam inside the Obseration room. 1he oersized bear bellowed, his jaws dropped open and extended, sharp
teeth protruded. Drool dripped rom his mouth and he swung his head around at Melissa in one iolent jerk.
Blood drained rom the assistant`s body behind the beast as the bear approached Melissa and she screamed,
not realizing the intensity o her ear. Upon her dropping to her knees, the Obseration room door slid open and
ie SCM soldiers ired their riles.
Bullets thudded into the back o the beast, knocking him orward and landing on his chest a couple eet
rom Melissa. 1he bear shited slowly, resuming his natural orm, with black light inside o him. \ith her back
pressed against the wall, her hands shook. 1he white lab coat had stained with squirted blood rom the assistant,
and again rom the bear when bullets ripped through his ur and body.
Melissa held hersel as her shocked stare dropped to her knees, witnessing the splatter o blood all oer her
clothes. One o the soldiers rushed toward her and extended his hand to help her stand.
\hen she ound her balance, he let her go and resumed his duty. But beore she had time to lee the room,
another soldier, under command rom the .olonel, positioned his rile oer the restrained shiter and ired twice,
blowing a chunk o the jelly substance onto the loor. le then shot a ew times at the shiter hanging against the
wall. All the alien lights dimmed permanently to black.

v tbe aar/, vv.t, tab roov, .bifter. of ivtervat vt.ativg tigbt vorea iv .tor votiov ava .vrrovvaea ber, tbreatevivg to
orerrbetv ber a. tbe, .bot etectricit, torara ber. 1be, too/ea (i/e a .torv of fattivg .tar., beavtifvt ava aavgerov. att tbe .ave.
Rai.ivg ber bava. to biae ber e,e. frov tbe btivaivg botov., .be .tvvbtea tro .te. bac/rara. . .bifter tvvgea, /voc/ivg ivto ber
.bovtaer bove, bvt ber refivea reftee. griea tbe vov.ter, bava to bea.t, ava .be tbrv.t tbe vov.tro.it, aorv ritb ove bara tbva
ovto a cot iv tbe tab.
Otber .bifter. faaea arovva ber, tigbt. aivvea. Re.traivivg tbe .bifter iv ber bava., .be bovva tbe vov.ter ritb rvbber ctav.,
ava teavea orer tbe gtorivg e,e. to begiv re.earcb. rov ber etbor. aorv, ber arv. baa vor becove tro .taivte.. .teet ivcer.,
ctic/ivg tbe btaae. togetber, vorivg cto.er ava cto.er to tbe .qvirvivg .bifter, tbe .igbt of ber vetattic arv. revt.ire to ber. v.ertivg
ber rigbt ivcer, .be rivcea rbev tbe .bifter ivage virrorea ber orv face ava evittea a .creav, bigb ava iercivg.
Bolting upright in bed, she scanned her dark bedroom and held hersel in her arms, calming her breathing.
Stroking her arms, she stared at her hands, her bvvav hands, and realized the eent was only a nightmare, but her
body still shook at the dreamed image o her ace staring back at her on the cot in the lab. lor a moment, she
elt ragile. She grabbed two white sleeping tablets rom her nightstand and sipped rom the glass o water by her
bedside. She relaxed and lowered her body under the sheets as she dropped her head to the pillow, telling hersel
it was just a dream, just a dream.`
lin
A412'%) 94<)'%%, 7 L15,*(<1 $%((% 7 9P*, L1
Magnolia Belle is a 1exas author who writes about 1exas, past and present, and Natie Americans. She
enjoys writing historical iction and modern day romance,adenture.
She lies with her husband |since 19|, and their three dogs in the Dl\ area. Music, people watching,
trael and cooking are some o her interests.
Author website: www.blackwolbooks.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,25ms68g
Copyright 2006, 2008 Magnolia Belle, 2
nd
Ldition
9P*, L1
Seenteen-year-old Lana sat beside the slow-running rier and pulled o her shoes and socks, her toes
wiggling in delight at their newound reedom. Late August aternoons in 1exas brought the hottest part o the
day, o the year - too hot to do chores or to stay inside the airless sod house. 1his presented a perect time to
swim and maybe to wash her hair.
Lana stood, remoed her dress and underthings, and arranged them across a bush. On tiptoes, she picked
her way across rocks and around grass burrs, and walked into the rier until the water came to just under her
nael. As she undid her braid, she let her long, brown hair all loose down her back and shoulders. She leaned
orward into the water, its coolness a delight against her hot, sweaty skin. 1his elt like heaen!
1he young woman swam and loated or a ew moments but, wanting her soap, she stopped and took a ew
steps in the waist-deep water toward the rierbank. A noise behind her made her whirl around.
Seeral yards away, a Kiowa brae sat on a magniicent black horse, his piercing eyes staring at the nude
woman. Lana roze, not sure what to do. She hadn`t brought a gun with her. 1he house stood so close, she
hadn`t thought she needed to.
Dov`t .bor biv ,ov`re afraia, she thought to hersel. tare biv aorv ava be`tt teare. lacing her uninited isitor,
she tried to slow her breathing.
le looked young, maybe a ew years older than Lana - wild, ierce, haughty. No paint adorned his ace, so
she decided he must be hunting or traeling, rather than looking or a ight.
1he brae continued staring at her with earless, piercing brown eyes. 1hen they licked away, searching or
the men he knew must be near. \hen his gaze returned to her blue eyes, she read her death in his ace, but
something stopped him, his expression sotened. She didn`t know her beauty caused a debate in his mind - kill
her or take her captie Beore Lana knew her ate, a man`s oice called rom behind the rise on the other side
o the rier, causing the brae`s head to jerk at the sound.
Lana Girl, where are you` Joshua Cooper yelled.
I`m right here, Pa,` Lana answered, not turning away rom the Kiowa. At the rier.`
\ell, hurry up! \our ma needs you in the kitchen.`
Pa I`m in trouble.`
As the words let her mouth, the brae reined his horse away and trotted across the prairie. Lana sank to her
knees while she tried to quit shaking.
\hat kind o trouble` ler ather`s oice sounded much closer as he neared the small rise. Lana hurried
out o the rier and grabbed her dress, holding it against her.
Kiowa. But he`s gone now.`
ler scowling ather walked past her and orded the rier, where he made a close inspection o the area.
Just one o em` he asked as she scrambled into her clothes.
\es, just one.`
Making his way back, Joshua shook his head at her. Come on to the house. I reckon he`s gone.`

1wo lawks made his way to the summer camp o his illage as he thought o what he had just seen.
lomesteaders had come to the plains and had drien his people out, killing game, grabbing the land as i they
owned it, making Kiowa lie diicult, bringing tension and hostility across their land. 1he whites` Great lather
kept making and breaking promises. 1wo lawks didn`t know what to beliee. 1he whites had more than one
Great lather, it must be conusing or them, he decided. No wonder they seemed so strange.
And the woman in the rier le shook his head. Rumors o people with blue eyes had reached his illage,
but he didn`t beliee them. No one had blue eyes unless they came rom the spirit world. \et, hadn`t he just
stared into crystal blue eyes And hadn`t they stared back, unaraid \hat i she ra. a spirit woman Maybe it
was a good thing he hadn`t killed her. Nodding his head once, he decided he would call her 1`ov Ma ,\ater
\oman,.

Joshua Cooper had suried the Mexican-American \ar o 1846-1848, but it let him exhausted in body and
in mind. 1here had been too much hatred, too much death, too much turmoil, and he was done. Moing with
his wie and amily o three sons and one daughter, he made his way to north 1exas. A armer by trade, he
thought perhaps he could raise cattle as well.
1hey reached their land in June o 1850. It sat just south o where the Salt lork and the Double Mountain
lork o the Brazos Rier met. Kiowa Peak rose in the distance.
\ith the help o his three sons, Nathan, nineteen, Paul, sixteen, and Jake, thirteen, Joshua soon had a sod
house constructed. Being scarce, they used timber only or a door and or raming the windows. Perhaps one
day there would be enough to coer the dirt loor. 1he Coopers had no money or glass windows, so sheets o
waxy paper stretched across the window openings to let in a dim, muted light. \ooden shutters had been made
to keep out rain and arrows. Netting hung across the ceiling to preent mice rom alling through the sod roo
onto unsuspecting sleepers below.
1he rectangular house had three rooms. Joshua and his wie, May, slept in the one bedroom on the let.
1heir three sons slept in the bedroom on the right.
1he last and largest room sat between the two bedrooms. It eatured a ireplace on the let, and a long
wooden table and seeral chairs in the middle. A kitchen counter ran along the ront wall, underneath a window.
1he only amily luxury, an oak hutch, had come straight rom Lngland with May`s grandmother many decades
beore. 1he blue and white pattern o the Delt dishes that sat on the hutch lent the rare splash o color to the
otherwise dark room. Lana had a cot against the ar right corner where she would pull across a blanket hung
rom the ceiling or priacy.
\ith the house built, the next projects were building a barn, smoke house, and root cellar. 1hrough careul
planning, Joshua had enough proisions to keep his amily going through the winter until next spring.
\hile the men were building, Lana and her mother were expected to collect as many bualo chips as they
could ind. 1hese would be used as uel. 1he women would also orage or roots, berries, and herbs and would
cut and dry as much prairie grass as they could to keep the horses ed through the winter. 1hey spent eery
spare minute o each day proiding or their surial so ar away rom ciilization, rom stores, rom medicine.

Once back at his illage, 1wo lawks tethered his horse outside his mother`s tipi and went to ind his ather.
I`e seen a white woman today,` he announced as he sat beside his ather, busy making arrows.
\hat` Many Deer looked up at his son. \here`
About two spans' rom here. She wasn`t alone, either. I heard a man`s oice calling to her.`
Many Deer scowled. \hen would these people go away and leae them in peace
Should we go back tomorrow and kill them` 1wo lawks asked.
Perhaps. Let me talk to some o the Dog Soldiers irst.` le picked up an arrow shat and inspected it or
straightness. Do you know how many there are`
No. I didn`t see. 1hey were behind a hill.` lis ather nodded. 1hat didn`t gie much inormation to plan
a raid on, though Kiowa held a reputation throughout the area or their earless attacks.
1he woman was dierent,` 1wo lawks said ater a moment. ler eyes were blue like the sky.`
tve. Many Deer studied his son. Are you sure`
\es. Len rom a distance, I could see they were blue.`
Many Deer pursed his mouth. 1his could be a sign, an omen. Like his son, like eeryone in the illage, they
had all heard the story o people with blue eyes, but to hae .eev one.
Perhaps we shouldn`t kill them without learning more. I`ll ask the others and see,` his ather decided.
Many Deer continued with his arrow making, waiting until the ires were lit, supper cooked, and eeryone`s
stomachs ull beore bringing this discussion to the Dog Soldiers"
Later that eening, ater much debate and counsel, the Dog Soldiers decided three o them should go on a
trading mission. \hile there, they could look around and see how many settlers lied there, how many guns they
had, and i there were any horses worth stealing. 1wo lawks would be one o the trading party, to show them
the way. Broken Man, as the eldest, would lead them, and Crying lox would go along as added protection and
an extra pair o eyes.

1wo days ater the rier incident, Lana gathered eggs rom the hens that had suried their journey to this
new place. 1he ourth egg had been set in the bottom o the basket when she heard horses. Looking up, she saw
three mounted Kiowa, their horses walking toward the house.
PA! - PA! Come quick!`
Joshua and his sons stepped rom behind the sod wall o the partially-inished barn, each bearing a rile.
Nathan stood behind his ather. Paul kept his hand on Jake`s shoulder.
Keeping a steady eye on his isitors, Joshua approached the Kiowa, his rile barrel pointed toward the
ground. 1hey didn`t look like they`d come to start trouble.
Get in the house, girl!` Joshua ordered.
Lana scurried across the yard and ducked into the house with her mother. Peering through the crack in the
door, she looked at the braes and recognized the one rom the rier. 1wo older men accompanied him. All
three had their braids wrapped in ur, their ears adorned with Mexican siler. 1he man in the middle raised his
hand toward Joshua in a sign o peace. Joshua returned the gesture and inited the braes to step down.
1he men dismounted, 1wo lawks throwing his right leg oer his horse`s neck and jumping to his eet with a
dancer`s grace. 1hey took a ew steps toward Joshua and then sat on the ground. 1he oldest brae produced a
pipe and tobacco.
Paul,` Joshua said to his middle son, get coee enough to go around. Put lots o sugar in theirs. Nathan,
you help him.`
1he two young men went into the house and returned a ew minutes later carrying the hot, sweetened
beerage in tin cups. Nathan had a olded blanket under one arm. Joshua reached or it and spread it in ront o
the Kiowa. 1hen, taking the coee rom his sons, he set a cup in ront o each brae. 1he our homesteaders
joined the Kiowa on the ground, sitting on the opposite side o the blanket.
Ater obsering the amenities, 1wo lawks rose and walked to his horse, where he untied a large bundle. le
threw it into the middle o the blanket and then repeated the same process twice more.
Nathan spread the three bundles out or a quick inspection.
1hey`e got rabbit and coyote pelts in here, Pa. It`s all prime, too.` 1he Cooper amily needed those pelts
to make clothing against the bitter, subzero winter weather common on the high plains.
I guess they want to trade.` Joshua then turned to shout oer his shoulder. Ma, bring the trading sugar
and molasses out.`
In a ew minutes, the door opened and May and Lana stepped through, carrying their trade goods. May set a
small sack o hard sugar on the blanket in ront o Broken Man. Lana placed two jugs o molasses beside it and
stepped back. As she did so, she risked a glance at 1wo lawks, who had watched her since she came out o the
house. Opening one o the jugs, he poked his inger in and then pulled it out, coered in rich, sticky sweetness.
As he stuck his inger in his mouth, he looked at Broken Man and grinned, nodding.
Crying lox said something to 1wo lawks, then rose and mounted his horse. 1wo lawks picked up the two
jugs and handed them to Crying lox. 1he Coopers stood when Broken Man also mounted his horse. 1wo
lawks returned to the blanket and stepped oer to Lana. lolding her chin in his right hand, he stared into her
eyes. \es, they rere really blue.
Lana quit breathing, araid to moe or to blink. She tried to remoe the ear rom her eyes, but i she could
hear her heart pounding this loudly, she elt sure he could, too.
1`ov Ma,` he said, pointing to her chest. 1`ov Ma.`
Let her go!` Joshua ordered, his rile pointing straight at the young Kiowa. \ith disdained-illed eyes, 1wo
lawks looked oer his shoulder at Joshua, dropped his hand rom Lana`s ace, and grunted. Swooping down,
he picked up the sugar sack and then jumped on his horse, his long braid swinging behind him.
1he three braes turned their horses and rode away without any concern or the riles at their backs. 1he
trade had been a good one. 1here would be easting tonight.
lin
A412'%) H*+)'%%, 7 N*F%)' E" L.C*,,%(( 7 N*.> [ N*(( N<2GB==
RJ McDonnell is the son o a Pennsylania State Police Detectie, who receied seeral decorations
or soling complex and high-proile crimes. In addition to a traditional education, RJ also had the
beneit o seeing eery police detectie drama on teleision and in the moies. lis ather would
requently critique these stories or belieability o characters and police procedures.
le earned a Bachelor`s Degree at Penn State Uniersity and a Masters at Marywood Uniersity.
During his college years RJ was a rhythm guitarist and ocalist in two bands. Shortly thereater, he moed to San Diego
where he went to work or a proessional writing serice. In addition, he wrote a monthly column or the Mititar, Pre.., and
another or a San Diego publication, proiding adice to job seekers.
In the 90s, RJ got into comedy writing. le wrote or a local San Diego cable teleision show that had a Saturday Night
Lie-type ormat. Oer its two seasons on the air, 34 o his skits were produced. Roc/ c Rott oviciae was the irst noel in
his Roc/ c Rott M,.ter, erie.. 1he second noel, Roc/ c Rott RiOff, was selected 2010 Mystery,1hriller o the \ear by
Premier Book Awards.
Author website: http:,,www.rjmcdonnell.com,
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2dgano
Copyright 2010 R.J. McDonnell
N*.> [ N*(( N<2GB==
Some people are meant to get second chances while others are not. Leandra Lundquist elt entitled to a
major break ater 21 years o being bitch-slapped by the hand o ate. All o that would change today.
1he old Leandra would neer take adice rom her ex-con older brother, John. 1he notion o jeopardizing
the pharmacy job she`d held since 10
th
grade would hae been inconceiable a year ago. Blackmailing a young
pharmacist into ordering a massie shipment o pseudoephedrine would hae been beyond consideration or a
girl who made it to adulthood without a detention or a parking ticket.
But misortune had collected in her lie like plaque in an imperiled heart. ler airy godmother was looking
more and more like her real-lie alcoholic mother. Staying the course seemed like a death sentence. John was
right. I she didn`t take control o her own destiny it would take her down like a rip current at \ind & Sea
Beach.
At 10:20 AM an unmarked white truck pulled up to the loading dock at Popakalitis Pharmacy. A buzzer
sounded behind the pharmacy counter.
Leandra, you`re needed in the back,` called Myron Rosen, a 50ish pharmacist who was illing prescriptions
while three customers waited.
1his is a pretty big order or a neighborhood store,` remarked the drier.
Poppy`s either getting a great deal or we`re in or a wicked cold and lu season,` Leandra replied.
Due to the size o the shipment, the loading dock door wouldn`t close completely. Leandra signed the
electronic receipt tablet.
Sorry about the way I had to stack the pallets, but there`s just no room.`
Don`t worry. I`ll take care o it,` she said.
Ater the drier pulled away, Donnie Daniels, one o John Lundquist`s ormer prison buddies, clicked his
phone shut and walked into the pharmacy. le wore a baseball cap low on his orehead and had been growing a
beard since he agreed to help. John had gien him a drawing that noted the location o the store cameras. le
walked a well-planned route with his head down.
ley, could somebody gie me a hand oer here,` he called to the pharmacist.
\e`re a little busy right now,` Myron replied.
My mother`s out in the car in a lot o pain. \e just came rom the doctor`s oice and she needs a knee
support, but I don`t know what`ll it her.` Donnie`s oice was both tense and loud.
Myron walked to the storeroom door and called or Leandra to come out and help.
\e just got a big deliery,` she complained.
It`ll wait, Leandra. I want you to take care o this man irst,` he said, pointing at Donnie.
\hile she answered Donnie`s many questions, John and Leandra`s musician boyriend loaded the band`s
equipment truck with the pseudoephedrine. Ater a ew minutes, Donnie and Leandra saw the truck drie past
the ront o the store.
Donnie shouted, So you think my mother`s too at to it into any o your braces!`
I didn`t say that,` Leandra replied. I just suggested we go out to your car and measure her knee so we get
the right it.`
luck you, bitch! I`m outta here!` Donnie angled his cap at the door camera and stormed out.
Leandra said to Myron, I swear I didn`t call his mother at.`
le was a jerk. Don`t worry about it.`
lie seconds later Leandra screamed, and Myron rushed into the storeroom. \e`e been robbed!` she
cried.
lin
A412'%) H<='%%, 7 0'%24%, C" N*5%)& 7 04*' 9* C%1'4
Stephen D. Rogers is the author o bot to Deatb, ,Mainly Murder Press, and more than 600 shorter pieces.
lis website, www.StephenDRogers.com, includes a list o new and upcoming titles as well as other timely
inormation.
Author website: www.StephenDRogers.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2er596o
Publisher and author page: http:,,mainlymurderpress.com,store,
Copyright 2010 Stephen D. Rogers
04*)' 0'*)6? =)*/ '4% F**> 04*' 9* C%1'4
\3SS:3N3MA:0 9B 9D: ABM9N3NIP
\ou could learn a lot about a community by analyzing how they dealt with their trash.
I'd been ollowing this town dump truck all morning and was impressed by the number o public trash
receptacles strewn across the pier, playgrounds, and parks. 1he town seemed committed to keeping the trash o
the street.
1wice the truck had returned to municipal maintenance to drop o its load.
1wice the truck had been joined by a green SUV, the maintenance superisor stopping to chat with the two
guys in the dump truck: Jack 1obey and the other guy.
1he other guy droe.
Jack lited the plastic bags rom the metal receptacles and swung them into the back o the truck. Unolded
empty bags into the receptacles and tied a knot to hold them in place. Jack was the younger o the pair, his green
jumpsuit crisper.
Chasing empty coee cups as they skittered in the breeze coming o the Atlantic, Jack didn't look one bit a
pornographer.
O course, I didn't look like a priate inestigator, or so I hoped. 1hat was the unny thing about
appearances. loweer much o the time they were all we had to go on, they didn't always amount to much.
My client certainly belieed Jack to be a pornographer, and that wasn't something oten mistaken or
something else.
Putting the image o my client sobbing out o my mind, I ollowed the trash truck into a strip mall and
watched Jack and his partner saunter into the Cape Coddage. Clams. Lunch Specials. Ice Cold Drinks.
Seemed like as good a time to eat as any.
Jack and the other guy sat at a corner table under a large map o the Cape. Neither o them looked at me,
which either meant they hadn't noticed my sureillance, or nothing at all.
My stomach growled as I stepped closer to the grill.
"\hat can I get you" Behind the counter waited a Caucasian male in his orties, hosting a urrowed brow
o ownership. le slid an order pad ront and center.
"Large spicy Italian sub, please. 1oasted. Dry. lor here." A steak and cheese sizzled on the grill. My
stomach roared.
"1en minutes." le ripped o the order number and pushed it across the counter. "Ice cold drinks in the
cooler."
Ater grabbing a bottle o lemonade, I approached the corner table.
1hey were discussing the Sox.
"Lxcuse me. I'd like to talk to Jack or a minute."
lis head rose. "Do I know you"
"Not yet." I hadn't seen Jack up close until now. lis ace was weathered or a twenty-something, but that
could be rom working outside. Anyway, his eyes were clear, and his ace clean-shaen.
lis coworker pushed back his chair and stood to ace me. le looked only a ew rom retirement, his ace
wasted away. "\hat'd you say your name was"
"I didn't. 1he conersation is personal. Between Jack and me."
Jack's coworker tried to back me down with a watery stare.
My client's sobs were more eectie.
In the silence that ollowed, the owner o Cape Coddage called, "Steak and cheese. Clam roll."
"I'll get them." Jack's coworker picked up his soda and brushed by me, plunking down his drink on the next
table.
I sat and stuck out my hand. "Dan Stone."
Jack shook. "\ou seem to know me already."
"I'm not here to wreck your lunch." I smiled to proe my good intentions. "As I said, this is personal, and I
igured you'd rather I didn't approach you at work."
le glanced oer my head. "1hanks, Bill."
Bill handed Jack the clam roll, standing aboe and too close to me, a zombie bodyguard.
I tensed, keeping my gaze on Jack. "\ou can go now."
Once Bill sat at his new table, I relaxed. "I beliee you know a Carrie \ilcox."
"Sure." Jack lited his ried clam roll out o the cardboard sleee. "\e went out or two years."
"\ou broke up with her last month"
le laughed around the ood in his mouth. Swallowed. "Is that what she told you"
"Part o it." Broke up with her ater orcing Carrie to strip so you could take naked photos o her.
"\eah." Jack dragged the word out. "I remember it a little dierently. Out o the blue, Carrie told me we
were done. She was starting a business with her riends rom college and she no longer had time or me."
I tried to it the two stories together. "So Carrie broke it o. 1hat must hae hurt."
"Once the shock wore o. I still haen't told my mother. She's still working on her list o baby names."
"\as Carrie pregnant"
"Someday. I mean that's what I enisioned." Jack took a huge bite o his clam roll, illing his mouth to
cheek-bulging capacity.
lrom the counter, "Large spicy Italian."
"Back in a sec."
I retrieed my sub and skipped the chips, already doing enough damage to my stomach with the hots,
sodium, and saturated ats. 1he tension created by learning how much my client had lied wouldn't help matters
either.
Bill watched me cross the restaurant.
Jack chewed clam. "So what do you want rom me"
"Are you still mad at Carrie"
"\hat i I am Does she hae a problem with that, too"
I shook my head, slowing the exchange beore it escalated. \hoeer broke up with whom, and whether or
not Jack was a pornographer, I'd been hired to complete a job. "1his is about some things o hers."
"I don't hae any o Carrie's stu." Jack grimaced. "She neer really let that much at my apartment. I
neer could igure out whether I should be thankul, or worry about the act she wanted a quick exit."
"Do you think that's true" I took a bit o my sub.
Jack's sigh seemed to account or more air than his lungs would hold. "She's a gownie, I'm a townie. Carrie
will graduate and leae the Cape to conquer the world. Maybe someday I'll make oreman."
"Is that what you thought, or what she thought"
"My break's oer." Jack downed hal his ginger ale. "I gotta go."
I plucked a card rom my shirt pocket. "Gie me a call."
"\hy" Jack crinkled his debris as he stood.
"Because i you call, you get to choose when we talk." Behind me, Bill scraped his chair back.
"Seems like we just did talk." Jack boxed his shoulders.
I swallowed the ood in my mouth to keep him rom haing the last word. "It was a start."
Ignoring my card, Jack scurried along the wall to the trashcan, and let the restaurant by the ar door.
"1hanks or recycling." I slipped the card into my pocket and returned to my sub, colorul but somehow
tasteless.

I waed to Jack out my car window as he let the municipal maintenance barn, waed my whole arm in wide
arcs to ensure eerybody noticed.
Jack rowned as he broke rom the gang and approached.
"I almost didn't recognize you without the green jumpsuit." \hat about Bill \hy wasn't he among those
leaing
Jack stopped a couple eet rom the car, his stance deensie. "\hat do you want"
"\e neer inished talking earlier."
"I hae nothing more to say." le opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut.
"low about I buy you a beer"
"No thanks." Jack didn't sound as though he appreciated the oer.
"An ice cream cone" As long as he stood there listening, I'd keep casting. "1here's a place just up the
street. 1heir ice cream is hand-packed, whateer that means."
Jack's ront leg twitched.
I leaned out the window. "I'll drie, or you can ollow me, whateer you want. It's your choice."
Around us, the other employees had already entered their cars and let. \e were alone.
Jack relaxed, his body settling into his sneakers. 1hen he walked around my car and climbed in. "Let's get
this done."
"Done is good." I started the engine and took my time getting us to Malarky's Seaside Chills. "I didn't see
Bill."
"le had an appointment. Chemo."
"Sorry to hear that." But not sorry I didn't hae to worry about him coming at me rom out o nowhere.
"le's a good shit."
"So Carrie tells me you hae something o hers."
Jack's head snapped towards me. "I already--"
"Pictures. She says you hae pictures."
"Pictures" 1here was conusion in his oice. le wasn't repeating the word to buy time. "\hat pictures"
"Bedroom pictures."
Jack's squawked, an outraged swan. "\ou're joking. Carrie can't dictate what I think and eel. Just because
she threw me out o her lie doesn't mean I'm going to edit her out o two year's worth o pictures. I hae a
right to my memories."
"She has a right to priacy." I pulled into Malarky's, parking as ar rom the order window as possible,
hoping to keep Jack in the car and talking. le wasn't the pornographer Carrie suspected, or led me to beliee
she expected. So what did that make him
"Should I puke up eery meal we ate together" Jack's nostrils ibrated. "Gie mysel a lobotomy"
I turned my back to the door, willed my body to project non-judgmental, non-threatening interest.
"All she's concerned with are the nude photos. She's not denying you two had a relationship."
"Nude" Jack snorted. "Leae Carrie to remember that night. \hat's she think, that I sit at my computer
clicking through the pictures, pining or her"
"1hat's not her major concern."
Jack looked out his window. "She's unbelieable."
"I don't doubt that."
lis isible ear trembled as his neck muscles clenched and unclenched. "I hae hal a mind to simply reuse.
\here does she get o"
"lmm." I tapped the steering wheel with my index inger. "I hae equipment that securely wipes a ile.
Beats all goernment speciications. Doesn't touch anything else."
"\hat would you do" le aced me. "In my shoes."
"I'd back up my data, just in case."
Jack almost smiled. "1hat's not what I meant. About the photos."
"1here's no need to delete them or the storage space, especially since memory is cheap. But why would you
want to hang onto pictures o an ex"
lis eyes widened. "\hy not"
"Because they'e lost their alue to you. All they're going to do is slow down scans, slow down backup." I
paused hal a beat. "1hey een slowed your ride home today."
Jack nodded. "So what about the pictures on Carrie's computer 1he ones she took o me"
As my stomach lurched, a piece o undigested hot pepper burned through me. I winced. Shited. "She
didn't say."
"Didn't say what she did with them, or didn't mention them at all"
"Carrie hired me to deal with the photos in your possession." 1hat she'd lied to me changed nothing.
Clients always buried as much as they unearthed.
"1he pictures I took, I created them, right 1hat means I own them." Jack's whole body started talking, his
motions animated. "It's like when my riend got married. 1he wedding photographer owned the negaties, not
the happy couple. My riend paid or the prints he wanted."
"1his is dierent."
"low so"
le had to ask. Somehow I didn't think the act that I had a paying client was enough o a distinction.
"\ou don't want this in the papers."
"Neither does Carrie."
I unclenched my ingers rom the steering wheel. "It's true that Carrie isn't interested in spending a ortune
on legal ees. 1hat's why she came to me, so that you and I can work this out without getting mired in lawyer
depositions and court dates."
"I'm not araid o paperwork."
"\hat about your boss \hat's he going to think about one o his employees collecting naked photographs
low's that going to look \ou, the guy people see hanging around the beaches. At playgrounds."
\hen Jack crossed his arms, that undigested pepper shot lames up my windpipe.
I leaned orward, lowering my oice. "Listen, Jack, nobody wants this to get any more complicated than it
has to be. Carrie is uncomortable with the idea you still hae those photos. Make them go away, and the issue
goes away."
"Maybe I'e decided they hae sentimental alue." lis jaw muscles were so rigid his words came out
clipped. "Maybe I don't want to gie them up."
"Come on." I gae him a knowing smile.
"Carrie and I were together two years." le sotened. "I'e neer elt about anybody else the way I elt about
her."
"lolding onto those pictures won't bring her back."
"I know that." le was in turn deensie and deiant, as transparent as the cycles o an ocean tide. "In act,
here's my oer."
"I'm listening."
"Carrie wants all rights to those photos line. She can buy them rom me."
"She doesn't want the photos." And i Jack hadn't been the pornographer Carrie claimed, he was ast
becoming something dangerously close to one.
"It sounds to me as though she does. Right now, they're in my possession, and Carrie wants to change that.
Lnd o story."
"I understand--"
"liteen hundred bucks and they're hers. \ou call her up, and you tell her my terms." Jack reached or his
door handle. "And I want it in cash."

I watched Jack examine the laor board posted next to the order window.
"Carrie Dan Stone. I'e met with Jack."
"I told my riends, you da man." ler oice grew less distinct, as i she'd moed the phone to talk to
somebody else. "Mumble, mumble, mumble." Celebratory whoots. 1hen she was back. "So like, thanks."
"lang on. \e hae a complication."
"Can you deal with it"
"1hat depends. \ou want the photos. Jack wants iteen hundred."
"Does he really expect me to pay to see nude photos o mysel" lemale laughter erupted in the
background. "I don't think so."
"I'll see what I can do." Jack walked towards me licking an ice cream cone. \hite with dark smudges. "One
other thing."
"I'm kind o busy."
"Jack said you had photos o him. I could use those to leerage a trade."
"Long gone. I'm not the only person who uses my computer, you know." More background laughter.
"I'll be in touch."
Seeing Jack just outside, I did a quick massage o my stomach.
le opened the passenger door and dropped into his seat. "Okay i I eat in your car"
"Go ahead."
"So do we hae a deal" le let the door open, keeping one oot on the paement.
"My client understands your position, but payment is out o the question. \e still eel, howeer, that this
can be handled so eerybody comes out ahead."
"low do you igure that"
"Jack, I don't beliee money's the answer. Carrie did you wrong, and sticking her or iteen slips o paper
isn't going to change that. Buy something with money you get rom Carrie, and it's going to be haunted."
Jack didn't respond, his mouth busy cleaning up ice cream that was already starting to melt down the cone
onto his ingers.
le heard me, o course. lis ree hand picked at the seam o his jeans.
I let him chew on my words as he licked.
1hen, apparently satisied that he had the ice cream situation under control, Jack aced me. "liteen
hundred."
"I hear you, Jack. But it's not going to happen. Instead, you're going to get something better."
"Like what"
"\e go back to your apartment, and I get two pieces o equipment out o my trunk."
"\hat kind o equipment"
I held up a hand. "\hen we get inside, you print out a single picture o Carrie. I use the irst piece o
equipment to wipe the iles. \ou then use the second piece o equipment to shred that picture. \e then
celebrate your reedom, howeer you want."
"\ou're talking, what, a party"
"I that's how you want to celebrate. A party. A couple drinks. Split a pizza and watch a game. It's your
choice, your reward."
Jack shook his head and returned to his cone. "I don't know."
"1hink back to the irst time you had ice cream. \ou were probably pre-erbal. It was strange looking.
Cold. \ou could eel the cold coming o it, and you weren't so sure you wanted to let that stu touch your
lips." I paused. "But then you got that irst taste. And the world was a better place."
"\ou should do a commercial or them." le tipped his head towards Malarky's.
"I wouldn't know what to charge."
Jack stared at me as i trying to judge how I meant that, and then laughed. "Charge them three grand. And
then split it with me."
I tap-punched him in the upper arm. "low's that ice cream"
"Good. \ou owe me ten dollars."
"1en dollars I'e got to stick to places that pack their ice cream by machine."
"\ou said you were buying, and I tip well."
Raising my eyebrows to indicate he'd gotten the best o me, I chuckled. "I'll gie you the money when we
get to your apartment."
"\ou're not going to try to talk me down"
"O course not, I promised." I paused. "Besides, the ice cream alls under reasonable expenses, or which I
get reimbursed."
"\ou mean rom Carrie." Jack grinned.
"1hat's correct." It was a pleasure to deal with a person who didn't need eerything spelled out.
"Let's get this done. 1hen we'll celebrate, Carrie's treat, right"
"Carrie's treat."

Since that day, I'd seen Jack around, picking up other people's trash, itting empty bags into the receptacles.
Didn't see him long enough to say hello or send a salute, just out o the corner o my eye.
1hen he called. "I thought you might get a kick out o this."
"\hat" I rolled my chair ar enough rom my desk that I could swing back and orth, my eet crossed at
the ankles. 1he online asset search could wait.
"A riend o a riend knows one o Carrie's riends."
"Should I be drawing a lowchart"
Jack laughed. "le said that he said that she said that Carrie ran with that business idea."
"And"
"\hy Carrie wanted those pictures back She and her two riends rom college, they started their own porn
site. Sot porn, eaturing a lot o sea, sand, and skin. Or so I'm told."
"\ou haen't checked it out" My chair squeaked.
"Old news. Just like you said. Anyway, I thought you'd enjoy hearing that."
"1hanks or the call, Jack."
\ou could learn a lot about people by analyzing how they dealt with their trash, the litter they produced as
they marched through lie's parade.
1he detritus.
1he jetsam and lotsam, washed up onto shore, let behind ensnared in seaweed as the waes withdrew with
a sot sucking sound.
Or not.
I pulled mysel closer to the computer and the interrupted asset search. Resumed my hunt or treasure.
lin
A412'%) 0<@'%%, 7 96 E*4,&'*, 7 L*)% 941, W<,
1y Johnston was born in Kentucky. Ater earning a degree in journalism, he spent the next two decades as a
newspaper editor. During that time he wrote numerous short stories, nearly all o which hae been published
in print or digital ormats. In his orties, now a ormer journalist, he decided it was time to get serious about
his iction writing. le is the author o 1be Kobato. 1ritog, o epic antasy noels, Cit, of Rogve., Roaa to !ratb
and Dar/ Kivg of tbe ^ortb. le has been published online at Lery Day liction, Demonic 1ome, 1he Ranurly
Reiew, llashes in the Dark and other enues. lis stories hae also appeared in print in the anthologies
Deaative., 1be Retvrv of tbe rora and Devov.: . Cta.b of teet .vtbotog,. 1y's main writing and reading interests generally are
in the horror and antasy genres, but he's not aboe branching out into literary works rom time to time. lis most recent
work is the Appalachian literary noel More 1bav Kiv.
Author website: http:,,tyjohnston.blogspot.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,26tqcwc
Copyright 2010 L.M. Press
L*)% 941, W<,
1he iew beyond the bus window rolled past like images on a moie screen. \ith the green ields and a
brown scratch o a rier, \alt supposed the ilm would be a tale about small-town America, probably with one
o the moie stars rom his youth. Maybe lenry londa. Or Jimmy Stewart.
lis shaking hands clutched the scarlet pack o Pall Malls in his lap. It had been nearly three hours since he
had had his last smoke, during the break in Columbus, and he was jonesing or another. le was old enough to
remember the days when a man could smoke anywhere, een on a packed bus, but he could honestly say he
didn`t miss them. le understood. Not eeryone wants to breath in all those umes.
1he scene shited slowly. A ew buildings passed by. A state police station. Conenience stores. Shacks. Len
a prison.
1hen the bus slid into what was legally called a city in the state, but was in reality just another o the small
towns that dotted the countryside.
Minutes passed as the drier moed the bus through intersections and grimy neighborhoods. Lentually he
pulled the big gray ehicle to a stop beneath an oerhang at a bus depot.
\alt couldn`t wait to get o the bus and smoke. le was the irst person to stand, nearly jumping out o his
seat and grabbing the backpack he`d kept beneath his eet. le was too slow, howeer. Leryone else suddenly
sprang up, too, blocking his path.
It was another ie minutes beore he managed to get onto concrete.
1he irst thing he did was reach or the siler Zippo lighter in his jacket pocket. 1here was no lighter. le
checked the other pocket. Nothing. lis pants pockets. lis backpack. Nothing. le thought back to the last time
he`d used the lighter. At the bus station in Columbus. It had been early morning. A kid barely in his twenties had
bummed a smoke o him. 1hen the kid had asked to use the lighter.
1hat was the last o the lighter.
\alt didn`t know i the kid had intentionally stolen it or i he`d accidentally kept it, but \alt was willing to
gie him the beneit o the doubt. It was just a lighter. A nice lighter, yes. But just a lighter.
\alt looked around as passengers continued to ile o the bus, bypassing him to go o to their own parts
o the world. le stared oer the potholes and across the road to a grael parking lot. A glass-ronted building
stood there with a gigantic sign that was shaped like an irregular square. 1he red lettering on the sign had once
been illed with small, round light bulbs, but they were nearly all broken now. Rust and sediment lingered at the
edges o the sign. It adertised a used car lot.
le counted only our cars, most o them at least ten years old and holding plenty o rust o their own, then
took his eyes o the lot. It was a light he wanted.
O to one side, standing next to a steel garbage can, was an old ellow who looked as i he`d seen better
days. A woolen watch cap was pulled down to coer most o his stringy, graying hair. An Army-green coat with
worn elbows was wrapped around his shoulders. le was smoking a cigarette.
\alt nearly laughed as he realized he probably shouldn`t think o the ellow as old. 1he man probably had no
more than ten years on \alt himsel. Rubbing the stubble on his chin and iguring he didn`t look much better
than the other ellow, \alt walked oer to him.
One squinted eye and one wide eye stared back.
Can I get a light` \alt asked.
1he smoking man didn`t say anything or a moment. le just stood there eying this new prospect. linally,
Could you help a ellow out with a cigarette`
\alt held up the hal-empty pack o Pall Malls, tapped one side so two resh ciggs oered themseles up.
1hanks,` the other ellow said, taking the two cigarettes. le tucked one behind an ear.
\alt nearly pointed out that the man already had a cigarette hanging rom his lips, but thought better o it.
Maybe the guy was low.
1he smoker pulled a black Bic rom a pocket, struck ire and held up the lighter with hands stained yellow
and cracked rom age and weather and work.
\alt popped a cigarette in his mouth and leaned orward. 1here was a lare and then smoke was rolling
between his lips once more and streaming down his lungs, eeling like heaen`s gates had opened.
1here anyplace to get a decent cup o coee `round here` \alt asked, pointing out his other bad habit.
\ith shaky ingers, the old ellow pointed his burning cigarette to the let, into the heart o town. 1he iew
oered was a street enclosed by multiple-story brownstone buildings that looked as i they needed a good
scrubbing. Red and green street lights showed the way up a slight incline.
1here`s Al`s Place up the hill there,` the old man said. About our blocks up on the let.`
Any good` \alt asked.
1he old man shrugged. 1hey got a decent plate steak. Coee`s usually resh made.`
\alt nodded his thanks and gae a slight wae. le tossed his pack oer his shoulder to hang down the back
o his jean jacket, then he trudged his way toward the incline.

\alt was glad to ind the walk up the hill easier than he would hae thought. lrom the distance o the bus
station the slope had appeared rather sturdy. But once his eet got to moing, le ound the walk rather
enjoyable. le was used to walking, een long distances. It was practically a daily part o his lie. But at his age,
and with growing breathing troubles, the walks seemed a little tougher each day.
A slight pain touched his chest and he slowed long enough to retriee an orange bottle o prescription pills
rom his pack. le dry-popped a couple, then returned the bottle to the pack.
le meandered down the street between the brownstones, buildings older than he was himsel, and passed
underneath multiple streetlights and power lines strung like orgotten strands o some great spider`s web. \oung
people passed him, teens on skateboards and college-age girls in skirts way too short. Boys with tattoos growing
like black snakes up their arms, glints o metal all oer their aces. le noticed there were ewer older people
here, which surprised him considering the age o the town. 1hen he remembered there was a small college
nearby, so he guessed that explained it. 1he ew older people he did see were men squatting on cracked steps in
ront o old buildings or a woman or two pushing along rusting grocery carts.
Ater some little while, \alt began to tire. le stopped and glanced back the way he had come, down the hill,
and saw he was nearly a hal mile rom the depot. 1he bus he had ridden was pulling back out.
le took a last pu o his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it to death with a heel while wondering i he
had walked too ar. le had kept his eyes open, but had seen no sign o the restaurant. lad he passed it
\alt looked ahead. le was halway to the next intersection.
Deciding he would gie the next street a try, he reached or his pack o cigarettes. 1hen remembered he
didn`t hae a lighter.
le stued the Pall Malls back into his jacket and trotted on. \hen the next street interened, he paused to
stare up the sidewalk. 1here were plenty o shops, many with windows plastered with newspapers, and a ew
banks, but no sign o any restaurant, let alone this Al`s Place.
lis eyes locked onto what appeared to be a plaza o sorts to one side. 1here was a circle o trees
surrounding a central ountain like sentries on guard duty, a pair o dented garbage cans o to one side. A
gathering o young people were huddled around one end o the ountain, a bronzed statue o some Ciil \ar
hero glaring down at them rom the middle o the waters.
\alt began walking toward them. 1here was no better way to ind the location o the restaurant than to ask.
lalway to the group, he heard a shout.
Stop it! Let me go!`
1hen laughter. But not laughter o joiality. It was a menacing laughter, illed with the glee o harming
innocence.
1he group o teens shuled somewhat, allowing \alt a iew o what they were standing around. It was a
boy, maybe a little younger than those circling him. le was on his hands and knees, reaching out on the ground
trying to scrabble together a small wooden box and a slew o smaller objects, perhaps toys or pencils or
something else in numbers a child might hae. It was obious the boy was in pain. le wasn`t crying, but his ace
showed anguish and one o the knees below his short pants was scratched with blood.
\alt took o as ast as his throbbing lungs would allow.
ley! Stop that!` he yelled.
Seeral o the youths turned toward the sound o \alt`s oice. A ew ran o as i they knew they were in
trouble. Others did not. One boy in particular, a tall teen with long dark hair, stood his ground with a rebellious
lay to his lips, almost arrogant.
\alt skidded to a halt mere eet rom the gathering.
\hat the hell you want, you wrinkled old bastard` the arrogant one asked.
\alt could now see what the injured boy was pulling to himsel on the concrete ground in ront o the
statue and ountain. Chess pieces. A rook. A queen. Both bishops. Seeral pawns.
\alt pointed to the hurt boy. Leae him alone.`
Or what` one o the group asked.
Up close now, \alt could see most o them were teenagers. None younger than thirteen or ourteen, none
older than seenteen or eighteen. Junior high school kids mixed with high schoolers.
1he boy with the conceited lips stepped orward, one hand slipping into a pocket o his leather pants. Chill,
old art, beore you bust a hip.`
\alt unshouldered his backpack but held onto it. lis ree hand unzipped one o the pack`s many pockets
and slipped inside. \alt kept it there.
Nothing else was said. 1he kid with the dark hair locked eyes with the older man or what seemed the
longest time to \alt. 1hen the kid laughed and turned away, waing his crew along with him. 1hey ollowed, all
but the hurt youth.
\alt stood still and watched them leae. 1hey took their time, to show they were leaing on their own terms
and not his, but they were leaing. 1hey meandered their way around to the other side o the ountain, then
walked west across a concrete esplanade that made an alleyway between tall brownstones. A couple o the kids
glanced back, including the cocky one with the long hair and jacket, but nothing urther was said.
\alt remoed his hand rom the backpack. 1here wasn`t anything in there, anyway. But it had looked as i
there were, as i he were reaching or it.
A snile brought \alt`s attention back to the boy on the ground.
1he older man moed orward slowly and knelt in ront o the youth. \alt looked him oer. 1he boy was
about ourteen, \alt guessed. le was a bit tall or his age, though, and probably a little heaier than he needed to
be. le wore no glasses, but had a bookish ace beneath mopish, dark hair. \alt was glad to see there were no
injuries other than the scrape to the knee.
1hanks,` the boy said, picking up a white pawn and dropping it into the wooden box.
\alt saw right away the box was hinged in the middle on one side with a locking clasp on the open, opposite
side. \hen closed, it made a perect storage place or the chess pieces. \hen open with the outside acing
upward to orm a lat surace, the box was a small chess board, decorated with the amiliar black and white
squares o the game.
\alt picked up a black rook and tossed it into the open box. \ou okay`
1he boy nodded. Sure.`
\alt helped him to retriee the rest o the pieces, then watched as the youth closed and locked the box.
\hy were they doing that to you` \alt asked.
1he boy shook his head. I don`t know. 1hey just do sometimes.`
le seemed shy to \alt, keeping his young eyes on the ground or the chess box.
\alt stood up straight. \ell, you probably ought to get home and get some peroxide on that knee.`
1he boy stood, too. le stared up at \alt. Okay. 1hanks.` 1hen he turned to run away.
ley!` \alt shouted.
1he boy skidded to a stop, the rubber o his tennis shoes leaing a gray mark on the concrete. le turned
back.
\here`s Al`s Place` \alt asked. le`d nearly orgotten he was looking or the restaurant.
1he boy grinned. 1hen he pointed. Next block up. 1urn let. \ou`ll see the sign.`
1hen he was o running again.
\alt stood there with what he was sure was a silly smile. A stupid grin, some might call it. le wondered why
the boy had smiled at him then. lad he said something unny le didn`t think so.
Ah, well. Kids. \alt turned and continued on his way.

1he restaurant was just as \alt had pictured it in his thoughts. It took up the bottom loor o one o the
brownstone buildings with its back ending in the alleyway where \alt had seen the teen-agers walking. 1he ront
was entirely o large glass windows inlaid in a steel rame. \ords painted on the largest o the windows
proclaimed the restaurant as Al`s Place.` 1he words were aded and chipped in places.
le stood there on the street or seeral minutes, ishing around in his backpack just to make sure he had not
somehow misplaced his missing Zippo lighter. A handul o locals entered and exited Al`s Place, enough people
to keep the place busy but not crowded. Glancing through those big windows, \alt could see the restaurant was
a throwback to an earlier time when waitresses all wore sparkling white uniorms and soda jerks stood to
attention behind counters while sering up banana splits and soda pop.
\alt smiled. lis lighter was gone, but he`d ound a bit o his youth.
le pushed through the ront door.
As he did when he irst entered any new establishment, his eyes went to the tabletops. No ash trays. 1hat
meant there was no smoking. It didn`t bother \alt much. le was used to it. 1he days o sitting in public and
enjoying a cigarette ater a decent meal had pretty much aded rom the American enue.
1he smell was what conronted him next. 1he greasy tint o burgers wating on the air spread throughout
the main room, bringing back memories o a hundred other greasy-spoon joints oer the years. It was a scent
almost like coming home or \alt.
le looked around the place. It was longer than it was wide. On the right and let walls were booths with
seats coered in a scarlet aux leather. Along the back was a steel-topped lunch counter running the length o the
wall, behind that bar was an open area reealing the kitchen beyond where steam loated up to the ceiling.
Directly in ront o \alt was a waist-high glass booth illed with candy bars, mints and gum. Atop the booth sat
an old-ashioned mechanical cash register. Next to that was a punch-button calculator with a paper roll or
printing receipts and a paper cup illed with toothpicks in cellophane.
Along the walls, aboe the booths, were strewn ading black-and-white photographs. Some hung crooked.
1he nearest to \alt, next to and aboe the register, was a picture o a smiling President Kennedy sitting in one
o the booths. A plate o spaghetti was beore the commander in chie. A couple o other men were in the
photo, one across rom Kennedy and another at his side, but \alt did not recognize them, as the two strangers
were not in suits but wore oeralls and straw hats, \alt guessed they must hae been locals during the
presidential isit.
\alt gae a little grin when he saw Kennedy`s signature at the bottom o the photo.
May I help you`
\alt looked oer rom the photograph. 1he woman behind the register wore the uniorm o a waitress, but
it was not one o the glowing, spotless dresses his mind told him had existed in his youth. 1his woman`s uniorm
wasn`t dirty, but it had the worn look o much use and the tumbled look o haing not been ironed. ler ace
appeared much the same beneath her dark, way locks.
It`s just me,` \alt said.
lollow me, please.` She steered him to the let and showed him to a booth halway down the wall.
\alt scooted across the ake leather, dropping his backpack beneath the table. Lxcuse me, would you all
hae any matches`
Sorry, there`s no smoking in here.`
I understand,` \alt said, patting a jacket pocket, but I`e lost my lighter.`
1he woman nodded. Sure, we`e got some at the counter. I`ll bring you a box. Cup o coee`
\alt smiled again. 1his was a woman who could read her customers. Many waitresses couldn`t nowadays.
1hey usually just asked you what you wanted. 1his woman had asked about coee.
Sure,` he said. Black is ine.`
She pointed past him to a plastic older against the wall. 1here`s a menu. I`ll get you that coee and
matches.`
1hen she turned and walked o.
\alt guessed she was in her late thirties, maybe early orties. No ring on the inger, but a worn look. Probably
a single mother working the best she can to keep her kids ed. It was a rough world.
le snagged up a menu and turned the laminated pages to see what Al`s Place had to oer. It was the usual
greasy-spoon grub. Burgers. Minute steaks. lries. Shakes. lried ish sandwiches. Spaghetti. A ew arieties o
pies.
By the time the waitress returned, \alt had made up his mind.
As she approached, he noticed her name tag read Cora.`
1hat was my mother`s name,` he said, pointing.
Cora glanced down at the tag and smiled. It was a smile o genuine amusement, a smile that didn`t come
oten, but one that showed she had no harsh eeling towards the rest o the world.
It`s a Southern name,` the woman said. \ou wouldn`t beliee all the names my amily had. My mother was
named \aelene. 1hat`s a name you don`t hear eery day.`
\alt returned her smile. No, it`s not.`
She placed a steaming cup o coee beore him, a box o matches next to it. \hat can I get you today`
I think I`ll hae the spaghetti dinner,` \alt said. Just like President Kennedy.`
Cora`s smile widened as she wrote on a pad. \e get that a lot. \ou a Democrat`
I am a neither nor.`
Neither nor`
Neither one nor the other.`
Cora chuckled. Anything else`
Bread`
low about garlic toast`
1hat`ll do ine.
\ou want a slice o pie or dessert`
\alt patted his stomach. Better not. I can`t eat like I used to.`
Alrighty, then,` Cora said. I`ll hae that to you in a ew minutes.`
\ith that she was o, waltzing her way back toward the kitchen.
1he aroma o the coee was soothing to his senses, nearly lulling him into a nap. Something coee wasn`t
known to do. But or \alt, it worked.
\alt passed the time by sipping his drink and looking at the hanging photographs nearest him. le didn`t see
many more aces he recognized, but there was one photo o ole Adolph Rupp with a ork in his mouth. lrom
the basketball coach`s position, \alt igured the man was sitting right about where he himsel was. le tried to
remembered back how long ago it had been since Rupp had died, but he couldn`t igure exactly. Must hae been
close to orty years.
Soon enough Cora brought him out o his reerie. She returned with a large plate and silerware wrapped in
paper napkins. She set the spaghetti and two slices o garlic toast beore him, along with a shaker o Parmesan
cheese. She retrieed a pot o coee and topped o his drink, then, Anything else`
No, thank you.`
1hen she was o with a smile to help some other olks.
\alt dug into his ood with gusto, it haing been some time since he had eaten a decent meal. le was nearly
inished when he noticed the place was illing somewhat and Cora was scrambling to keep up with the growing
crowd. 1he problem wasn`t so much she couldn`t wait on the customers ast enough as it was she couldn`t do
that and keep up with those leaing and wanting to pay up at the register. 1hen there were empty tables needing
cleaned.
1here appeared to be someone else in the back kitchen, but they seemed busy just keeping up with the
orders.
\alt hated to see the waitress struggle like that. le hated to see anyone struggle like that, working their tail
o just to make ends meet. le decided it was time to show a little initiatie.
le pushed away rom his seat and glanced about the place. 1here was one o those big, gray dish tubs
resting atop an edge o the back counter. Seeing Cora was busy checking olks out at the cash register, he made
his way to the tub, making sure to reach oer and grab a clean towel rom behind the counter.
Next thing he knew, \alt was working again. No, he wasn`t being paid anything, but maybe that would come.
Lither way, it elt good to be useul once more. le bussed tables like an old pro, plopping silerware and dishes
and mugs and cups and glasses into the shallow soapy water o the tub, then making sure to wipe the table clean
o any spills and crumbs.
\hen inished with the irst table, he looked down with some satisaction. 1hen he got to work on the next
table.
A ew minutes later, ater things had died down, the waitress approached. ley, you don`t hae to do that.`
Cora seemed a touch perturbed. Maybe she would get into trouble i he was seen doing her job.
\alt nodded toward exiting customers. \ou seemed pretty busy, so I thought I`d lend a hand.`
Cora`s demeanor sotened. \e could use someone like you around here, that`s or sure.`
I`e done a little ry cookin` in my time.`
1he owner, Jim, is o today, but he`ll be back tomorrow,` Cora said. \e lost a cook when the college let
out. Jim might consider adding you on.`
\hat time`s he come in` \alt asked.
lie in the morning, but the doors don`t open until six.`
I`ll drop by about six, then.` \alt moed back to his own table and stacked his utensils on the plate he had
used. lis cup o coee still sat, only hal inished.
Cora ollowed, smiling at him, watching him still at work. \ou want anything else Maybe another coee`
\alt looked oer his table. Nope. Just the check.`
Cora ripped his order stub o her pad, then placed it next to his plate. I`ll check you out wheneer you`re
ready.` She took his dirty dishes, then moed toward the kitchen.
\alt inished the last o his coee, then checked his leather wallet. le did not hae much money, but Cora
had been nice enough and helpul. le let a tip o a ew dollars, picked up his backpack and made his way
toward the cash register.
She met him there.
I also wanted to ask,` \alt said.
Cora rang him up and handed him back his change. \es`
I just arried in town,` \alt explained. I haen`t got settled anywhere just yet, and was wondering i you
could tell me where the closest shelter might be. ligure I`ll stay there tonight until I can get something set up
tomorrow.`
Cora rowned and pointed straight out the window. Down the street seeral blocks on your let. 1he city
mission has a place there. 1hey`ll take anyone or at least a night, as long as they`re not drunk or on drugs.`
\alt deposited his change in his pocket. Not me,` he said with a grin, then thanked her again.
lin
A412'%) 0%;%,'%%, 7 E%,,<=%) T1,% 7 K<'4 O**- $%41;<*)
Jennier Lane has ound that writing iction is much more un than writing a psychology
dissertation! \hile she writes under the name Jennier Lane, she practices as a psychologist in
Ohio. 1he tales o healing and resilience rom her proession hae inspired her to write her own
stories, planting the seeds or her irst noel, !itb Cooa ebarior, as well as its orthcoming sequel,
aa ebarior. She loes stories that make her laugh and cry. In her spare time Jen enjoys
competitie swimming, attending book club, and hanging out with her sisters and their amilies in
Chicago.
Author website: http:,,jennierlanebooks.com
Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2ay5hl
Publisher website: http:,,omniicpublishing.com
Copyright 2010 Omniic Publishing
K<'4 O**- $%41;<*)
N%.*,;<.'1'<*,Q
Jerry Stone sighed wearily as he reiewed the list o parolees on his schedule. 1ossing the printout onto his
metal desk, he leaned back in his squeaky chair and rubbed the bridge o his nose.
It was \ednesday, and the Department o Corrections always stuck it to him on \ednesdays. 1wo newbies
in a row, right o the bat. 1wo inmates reshly released, about to gie him the old song and dance about how
they would neer return to prison, they were now on the straight and narrow, they were rehabilitated. \hat a
joke. I they weren`t cons by the time they entered the Illinois corrections system, they surely were cons by the
time they let. 1hey should call it reconictation.
A knock brought him out o his reerie, and the ity-our-year-old parole oicer gruly called out, Lnter!`
1he door creaked open, and his irst parolee o the day tentatiely entered the oice. Jerry arched his
eyebrows. She was not the typical bottom-dweller inmate, reeking o unwashed clothes, hostility, and despair.
She was tall and thin, with strawberry-blond hair, and she carried hersel with an almost regal air as she loated
into his oice. le bet they had eaten her up at Downer`s Groe \omen`s Penitentiary.
She swallowed hard, accentuating a deined jaw line. Mr. Stone`
\eah, who are you`
Sophie 1aylor, sir.`
Back number`
She announced the digits robotically. She had used them daily or the last year. 2634.`
1ake a seat,` he gestured toward the metal chair acing his desk as he opened her ile. 1here must be one
hell o an intriguing back story leading this gorgeous chick into criminal actiity, and his curiosity got the best o
him.
Sophie dutiully olded her lean body into the chair and looked around her, taking in the dirty cornlower-
blue walls, the steel desk piled with uneen, wobbly stacks o papers, and the moldy white blinds coering the
only window in the grungy oice.
She was to report here weekly or an entire year, and the dcor o this goernment oice was uncomortably
similar to that o the administrator`s oice at Downer`s Groe \omen`s Prison. She crossed her legs and
hugged her shabby handbag in her lap, studying the parole oicer`s salt-and-pepper hair and stern ace as he read
her paperwork.
Ater a ew moments, Jerry looked up rom the ile with surprise. \ou were a psychologist`
She managed a tight smile. \es, sir.`
Should I call you Dr. 1aylor, then`
learing her ormer title caused a squeezing sensation in Sophie`s chest, and she looked down, embarrassed.
It had been oer a year since anyone addressed her that way. She thought back to her last therapy client to use
those words, Dr. 1aylor. lis smooth, deep oice reerberated in her mind. She had been enthralled by his rich,
slowly enunciated baritone as it caressed and possessed her name with loing care. \ell, with what she thought
was loing care, but turned out to be something else entirely.
Jerry noticed her blush as she lited her head and responded, No, I`m not a psychologist anymore. 1he
Illinois Board o Psychology reoked my license once I entered prison.`
I see.` le continued to scan her ile. I`m not inding any reports in here rom your sessions with a prison
psychologist.`
Sophie cleared her throat nerously. 1hat`s because I neer met with one.`
le raised his bushy gray eyebrows again. \ou didn`t attend therapy in prison I thought with your prior
ocation you`d be all oer that.`
I, uh, I didn`t want to be anywhere near a psychologist ater what happened. lrankly, I don`t think I beliee
in therapy anymore.`
Jerry sat back in his chair, studying her careully. \ou went to prison because o a massie lapse o
judgment, right, Ms. 1aylor`
She nodded.
And now ater one year in prison, you`re trying to get your lie back, right` \hen she nodded
automatically, he ordered, And don`t just tell me what I want to hear, young lady.`
No, sir. I really do want to start my lie oer. I hae to.`
So i you were still a psychologist, and you knew o a woman in these circumstances-needing to igure out
what led to a huge mistake in order to preent it rom happening again, reeling rom a year in prison despite a
perectly clean record beore that mistake, hoping to moe orward-in your proessional opinion, would you
say this woman made a good candidate or therapy`
Sophie realized where he was going and tried to head him o at the pass. 1here are lots o ways to get one`s
lie back on track,` she said. 1herapy doesn`t always lead to rehabilitation. Not eeryone beliees in therapy.`
\ou spent, what, six or seen years ater college training to become a psychologist And now you don`t
beliee in it`
Sophie crossed her arms and pursed her lips, remaining silent.
Because I think you`re a perect candidate or therapy. And I`m making that a condition o your parole:
weekly counseling.`
Court-ordered counseling doesn`t work!` Sophie`s chestnut-brown eyes lared with anger.
Jerry elt the tension in the room rising. \hat are you araid o`
I`m-I`m not araid,` she lied. 1herapy was about reliing the past, uncoering hidden motiations,
discussing amily. She was not about to dele into those painul memories. She searched or an excuse. low am
I supposed to aord therapy I don`t hae a job yet.`
1he DOC will pay or it,` he assured her.
le had thwarted her eery objection. \hat i I reuse`
Jerry had heard enough stalling. Do you want to return to prison` he thundered.
Sophie closed her eyes. No, sir.`
Jerry rose rom his chair, incensed, and marched around the desk. \ou don`t get it, do you \ou`re out o
prison, with good behaior, but you hae an entire year let o your sentence. I could throw your ass back inside
so easily your head would spin.`
ler eyes widened as he towered oer her, and she glanced at the handcus dangling rom his belt. One
wrong moe and they would be coldly clasped around her delicate wrists once again.
I`m sorry, Mr. Stone.` She watched his anger begin to dissipate. I don`t want to go back. I-I`ll do
whateer you say.`
le peered at her, wondering how genuinely contrite she elt and how willing she was to do whateer it took
to stay out o prison. Newbies. le hated his irst session with parolees, haing to sni out their true intentions
ater knowing them or mere minutes. le hated the little cat-and-mouse game: the lies, the deception, the empty
promises.
\ith thirty years in the DOC under his belt, Jerry had become a sharply accurate obserer o human
intention. le could sort through all kinds o bullshit to discern the truth. But this one made him nerous: a
woman with a doctorate, a shrink nonetheless. She could ool and manipulate. She could play people like cards i
she so desired. Jerry hated to be played.
Returning to his chair behind his desk, he stared at her or a moment, then adised, Doing whateer I tell
you to do-that is precisely the attitude you need to stay out o prison.`
\es, sir. I-I don`t want to start o on the wrong oot with you, Mr. Stone. I know you must hae all kinds
o cons giing you a hard time, and I don`t want to be one o them.`
I`m glad to hear that, but we`ll see i your word means anything.` le reached into his iling cabinet and
handed a typed sheet to Sophie. lere`s a list o therapists who work with the correctional system. \ou are to
schedule an appointment with one o them beore we meet again. Understood`
\es, sir.` She nodded, glancing at the list o names and exhaling when she did not recognize any colleagues.
\hile she olded the paper and placed it in her handbag, Jerry continued. I expect you to report here eery
\ednesday at nine a.m. I you miss one meeting, you will return to prison. 1here will be random drug tests, and
i you ail een one, you will return to prison. I expect you to secure employment in the next two weeks. I you
do not ind a job, you will return to prison. Are the terms o your parole clear, Ms. 1aylor`
She gulped, thinking this parole thing didn`t sound all that much better than prison. \es, sir.`
le clicked a pen and prepared to write notes in her ile. \here are you liing`
\ith a riend.`
I need an address.`
Um, 900 North Lake Shore Drie, Unit 10.`
Recognizing the downtown Chicago address, he asked, Zip code`
It`s 60611.`
\hat is your riend`s name`
Kirsten lolland.`
\hat does Ms. lolland do or a liing`
She`s a therapist.` \hen he continued staring at her expectantly, Sophie added, \e went to grad school
together.`
But she`s not a psychologist`
Um, no, she`s ABD, um, All But Dissertation She hasn`t inished her degree, so she can`t call hersel a
psychologist yet.`
Does Ms. lolland hae any criminal background`
Sophie chuckled. Kirsten was as straight-laced as they came. No, sir. She oered to hae me lie with her as
long as I kick her butt to get her dissertation done.`
Jerry stiled a smile. 1his had to be the irst time he`d discussed doctorates and dissertations with a parolee.
Very well. Do you hae any questions or me, Ms. 1aylor`
Sophie thought or a moment, wondering i her question would be all right to ask. low long hae you been
a parole oicer`
1hirty years,` he responded, shaking his head slowly. And I think that`s the irst time I`e been asked a
personal question like that.`
Sorry.` She winced. I don`t mean to pry. I just wondered, Mr. Stone, in those thirty years . what
percentage o people iolated their parole and had to return to prison`
le looked up to his right. I`d say, ballpark, about sixty percent.`
\ow.`
It`s serious business, Ms. 1aylor. \e`re not messing around here.`
I get that. \ell, I want you to know that I will deinitely be in that other orty percent. I`m not going back
to prison.`
I hope that`s the case.` 1here was something about the twenty-nine-year-old woman that made him like her
immediately. A keen warmth and intelligence shone through, despite the circumstances o their meeting. le
stued down those ond eelings quickly, howeer, knowing neer to trust the conicts walking through his
door.
Jerry glanced at his watch. It`s time or my next appointment,` he said brusquely. See you next \ednesday
at nine, Ms. 1aylor.`
1hank you, Oicer Stone.` She rose rom her chair, extending her arm. le grasped her slender hand in his
and they shook their goodbyes.
Lxiting his oice, Sophie exhaled deeply, eeling the stress o her irst parole meeting dissole. 1hat relie
was short-lied, howeer, once she opened the door and ound hersel eye to eye with a man whose black,
buzzed hair and golden-brown skin highlighted eyes that held crystal-blue, bottomless depths. 1he next parolee
on the docket lis nose was slightly crooked and his lips were ull. lis penetrating gaze bore a hole in her. She
stood rozen, staring or seeral moments beore regaining her bearings and muttering, Lxcuse me.`
She ducked out the door and strode down the hallway, daring to glance behind her to see the man watching
her leae. A aint smile crossed his lips, and her cheeks burned.
Scurrying away rom the building, the stranger`s intriguing eyes seared into her memory, Sophie decided
maybe being on parole wasn`t all that bad. At the moment, parole deinitely seemed better than women`s prison.
lin
A412'%) :<54'%%, 7 A(<== $1(( 7 ]&+)2%)
Cli Ball is 3, lies in 1exas, and has a BA in Lnglish. Cli has three independently published works:
1be |.vrer, Ovt of 1ive, and batterea artb. \on 3rd in a short story contest in a magazine that he wrote
in high school through his Creatie \riting class or a story called, Role Reersal`. Currently going back
to school to bring up his GPA to, hopeully, obtain an MA in Creatie \riting rom the Uniersity o
North 1exas.
Author website: http:,,cliball.web.com
Amazon author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,29bya5h
Copyright 2010 Cli Ball
]&+)2%)
\e will bury you!` bellowed Soiet Premier Nikita Khrushche, as he slammed his ist on the hardwood
table.
1he Americans, and other westerners who were assembled in the room, glanced at each other, and rolled
their eyes. President John l. Kennedy o the United States took a deep breath, and said, Are you threatening
war`
\ou think I`m threatening war I can honestly say that I`m not, Mr. Kennedy. \hat I mean, is that your
working class will bury you. listory is on our side, you`ll see. 1he Soiet Union won`t een hae to commit
troops to deeat you, your poor and downtrodden will do it or us. I predict that in 50 years, the United States o
America will cease to exist. \our people may not een see it coming, it`ll just happen one day when no one is
expecting it. Poo! 1he great and oolish American experiment inally comes to an end. Now, let`s discuss why
we`re all here.`
1hree hours later, the meeting broke up and as Khrushche was going to his car, he was met by one o his
American-born KGB agents. 1he American agent was recruited by the KGB 18 years earlier, ater the lall o
Berlin during \orld \ar II. le was one o the ew who hadn`t been ound by Senator Joe McCarthy, or the
louse Un-American Actiities Committee`s purge o Communists in the United States. Apparently, the agent
had some good news, because normally he was a ery dour person, but this time he was practically, or him,
grinning ear to ear. le eagerly shook the Premier`s hand, and said, Good day, comrade. I ound what we`e
been looking or,`
Good, good, that is the news I want to hear. Are they completely dedicated to the cause and willing to do
what we want to achiee our goals o burying the United States`
Oh, yes, Comrade Premier. In act, the girl came to us because, according to her, she is a dedicated socialist.
She seems to hae no problem with the plans we hae or her, een though I was quite ague about it. \ould
you like to meet her` asked the American.
\es, o course I`d like to meet her. \here is she`
She is currently at our embassy, Comrade Premier.`
\ell then, let us go and meet this American girl.`
An hour later, the duo arried at their embassy, and headed to meet the American girl who wanted to help
adance the Soiet cause. 1he Soiet Premier saw that the girl was a petite brunette, airly young looking, and
dressed in what the Americans reerred to as hippy clothes. Khrushche knew rom arious reports he receied
rom the KGB, that these kids were useul idiots, and just rebelling against their parents and society. Useul
idiots would be helpul to the Soiets, and Khrushche knew they would help bring down the United States with
enough training, and brainwashing.
Khrushche walked oer to the girl, shook her hand, and introduced himsel, lello, young lady. I am Soiet
Premier Nikita Khrushche, and you are`
I am so honored to meet you, Premier Khrushche. I am Ann O`lara rom Nebraska. I`m looking orward
to adancing the cause by any means necessary, i it comes to that.`
Susan, that`s the kind o attitude we are looking or rom recruits. Beore we tell you exactly what we want
you to do, the KGB will require a ull immersion in all things Marx, Lenin, and een Stalin, which includes
getting you to Moscow. I`ll let my people take care o that problem though. lor now, let`s all go to dinner,
because I`m staring.` remarked the Soiet Premier.
A month later, Ann O`lara was ready to leae or Moscow. She had been gien an airplane ticket by her
handler to 1ijuana, Mexico, so that it would appear to the United States State Department that all she was doing
was going on acation to Mexico. lours later, her airplane landed at the 1ijuana airport. \hen she let the
aircrat, she was met by two emale KGB agents, who were ery ierce and mean looking rom her point o iew.
One o them walked oer to her, and said, Ms. O`lara, we are here to escort you to the Soiet Lmbassy. Once
you arrie, you will be gien new passports, and a new ID. 1he KGB will send someone who looks similar to
you back to the States in a ew days, so your goernment will not wonder i you hae disappeared. \ill you
please step into the car so that we can be on our way.`
1wenty minutes later, Ann was escorted into the embassy, where she was greeted by one o the higher
ranking sta, Ms. O`lara, welcome to the Soiet Lmbassy. I am Natalia Rosharon, aide to the Soiet
Ambassador to Mexico. \e`re creating some new passports or you, and will gie you new identity papers. \e
hae a girl who is about to leae who will take your place. She`s also escorting another American, who was trying
to oer his serices to us, but, he`s a little too crazy or us to want to employ him. low was your trip`
It was a ery quiet and relaxing trip. I`m a bit nerous, but, I`m looking orward to learning eerything there
is to know about the great men o the Soiet Union. \hen do we leae or Moscow`
\e will be leaing tomorrow morning. \e need to take your picture, take some blood, and gie you some
inoculations i you haen`t had the ones we require. Once you arrie in the Soiet Union, the Secretariat o the
Communist Party o the Soiet Union Central Committee, \uri Andropo, will interiew you personally, beore
anything else is done. Now, let me show you to your room.`
As they were walking to the resident quarters, a man, who was a bit on the skinny side and balding, was
complaining loudly about how he was being treated, since he was being escorted by two large and burly KGB
agents. O`lara looked to Rosharon, and the aide said, 1hat was the man I mentioned earlier. lis name is Lee
larey Oswald, he wants us to help him assassinate President Kennedy. \e told him no.`
\hy did you reuse to help him` Ann innocently asked.
lelping him assassinate Kennedy would bring disaster to both o our countries, because i it was ound out
that we did it, the whole balance o power would be ruined, which would destabilize the world. So, we told him
no. \e think he`s too stupid to actually carry out with it though. Oswald is just a minor annoyance, let`s continue
with showing you to your quarters.`
1he next morning, Ann was ready to leae to begin her new lie, and was hoping it would be a grand
adenture. 1he woman who was to impersonate her, had let earlier in the morning with that crazy Oswald
character, and Ann was hoping that nobody would eer hear about him. Ater eeryone had breakast, Ann was
taken to the airport by two emale agents o the KGB, and a minor Communist Party unctionary was also
traeling with the group. Ann learned that his name was Mikhail Gorbache, who seemed nice enough to Ann,
but had a really weird looking birthmark on his head. 1hey boarded the Aerolot airline run by the Soiet Union,
and while they were waiting on the tarmac, Ann asked Gorbache, \hat do you do or the Party, Mr.
Gorbache`
Oh, I`m currently working my way up the ladder. Right now, I work in agriculture or the Party, mostly
because my amily had a collectie arm. I graduated rom Moscow State Uniersity with a degree in law, but, I
hope to one day be an important member o the Communist Party. I was isiting Mexico to see their arms, how
they grow and harest whateer is being grown, and then how the products are distributed to the people. 1his
was the last leg o my trip, and I am really eager to get home. I bet you`re eager to learn the ins and outs o
Soiet Doctrine.`
Very much so, Mr. Gorbache, I am ery eager. Ater I get taught eerything, I`m told I hae a ery special
assignment that the KGB wants me to do, so I can`t wait to ind out what it is.`
I`m sure whateer it is will be uniquely suited to your abilities, and needs, young lady. loweer, do not
think or one moment anything will be easy in the Soiet Union, but, you seem to know what you`re doing, so I
will leae that alone. Ah good, we`re now in the air, Moscow is 6100 miles rom here, so it`ll take nearly a day or
us to get there. I suggest you get something to read or take a nap, because I`m going to take a nap. \ake me up
when we land somewhere.` in less than ie minutes, Gorbache ell asleep and Ann decided to do some
reading.
lourteen hours later, the airplane landed at the Domodedoo Airport in Moscow. As eeryone was
disembarking, Ann said to Gorbache as she shook his hand, It was nice to meet you. I hope you`re successul
in eerything you do. Good luck and goodbye.`
Ann was supposed to wait to be picked up, she was told, by a limousine with Soiet lags on the hood. 1en
minutes later, the limo arried on the tarmac next to the aircrat, a door opened, and an older looking gentleman
stepped out o the car. le came up to Ann, looked her up and down, and asked, \ou are Ann O`lara`
\es, um, Comrade,`
Not what I expected, but, it doesn`t matter, you will do nicely or what we hae in mind. I am CPSU
Secretary, \uri Andropo. I am told I am to judge your worthiness, and i you are truly dedicated to the Soiet
doctrine. Come with me.`
Andropo abruptly walked back to the limo, got back into the car, and a bewildered Ann ollowed him into
the limo. Once she sat down in the limo, Ann asked, Are you going to tell me what the KGB wants with me`
\e will not tell you anything until you hae proen yoursel, and you aren`t doing this out o a need to rebel
against the authority o your parents. \our training should be complete in a little oer a year. Once we are
satisied with what you know, the KGB will inorm you o your assignment. Do you understand`
\es, Comrade Andropo. I will do whateer I hae to do to proe my worthiness.`
\es, yes, that`s what they all say.`
1he limo then sped o towards the Kremlin, with Ann wondering what she had gotten hersel into. She
needed to proe that she was serious and not rebelling against authority, because obeying authority was
important to the Soiets, and she didn`t want to disappoint them.
lin
A412'%) M<,%'%%, 7 A1)*(6, E" N*&% 7 D%/(*.> T1>%
Carolyn J. Rose grew up in New \ork`s Catskill Mountains, graduated rom the Uniersity o
Arizona, logged two years in Arkansas with Volunteers in Serice to America, and spent 25
years as a teleision news researcher, writer, producer, and assignment editor in Arkansas,
New Mexico, Oregon, and \ashington. She teaches noel-writing in Vancouer,
\ashington, and ounded the Vancouer \riters` Mixers. ler hobbies are reading,
gardening, and not cooking.
1he print edition o evtoc/ a/e was published by lie Star.
Author website: http:,,www.deadlyduomysteries.com
Carolyn J. Rose Amazon.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,2atqo2q
Publisher and author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,23oospd
Copyright 2010 Carolyn J. Rose
D%/(*.> T1>%
B.'*F%)
lists clenched, I watched the medical examiner`s an wallow along the rutted grael drieway. \ith a licker o
brake lights, it turned onto the patched asphalt road that circled lemlock Lake as Sheri Clement North laid a
weathered hand on my shoulder. I linched and droe my ingernails into my palms.
Phil can take care o the rest o this, Dan.` North`s oice was muted, his words tentatie. \hy don`t you go
on-`
lome` I laughed bitterly as the an disappeared beyond a stand o white birches. \ellow leaes luttered in
its wake, driting through dusty October air. Is that what you were going to say 1hat I should go home`
North`s ingers lexed. No. \hy don`t you ride back to the oice with me Someone will bring your cruiser
along later. I called the chaplain. le`ll notiy your ather.`
No.` I shrugged his hand away and walked to the edge o the porch, my heels thudding on the thick oak
planks. I can handle this.`
I know you can handle it, Dan. I`m not questioning your ability. But it would be better i you-`
No.` I turned on him, glimpsing my pain, dark and knotted, relected in his eyes. 1his is my responsibility.
My duty.`
I trudged down the broad steps and along the path toward the rippling indigo water. It`s all paperwork rom
here on out, anyway,` I called oer my shoulder. Just like any other accident, any other suicide.`
North didn`t answer, didn`t state the obious-this time there had been no need to check the bodies or
identiication, this time I wouldn`t search or next o kin.
1he names I`d write the top o the reports would be Nathaniel Justice Stone and Susanna Llizabeth Chase
Stone.
My brother.
My wie.
A412'%) X
32)<(
I called you in because I`m looking or resh ideas on a case,` Sheri North said. \e hae damn little to go
on.`
I tore my gaze rom the tiny buds on the gnarled maple tree outside the window. Spring had come to my
wasteland. Lach pale lea and bright blossom seemed to mock my misery. Swallowing long-simmering rage, I
watched the sheri deal six sheets o paper and an equal number o enelopes onto the dog-eared green blotter
staking its claim between stacks o worn ile olders.
It`s not much.` North shrugged. \asn`t a decent ingerprint once we ruled out the construction chie who
opened them. And with the way the system operates now-centralized-all we know is the general area they
were mailed rom. Used to be easier when eery little post oice had its own mark.`
I ingered a piece o three-ring binder paper speckled with words sliced rom a newspaper and sti with
yellowing globs o dried glue. \ou build. \e`ll burn.`
1hey cut up an Albany newspaper or that one,` the sheri said. 1he type matches. But I`m thinking these
threats could be linked to eco-terrorists. Like that case out on Long Island.`
I nodded. I`d read about a group claiming responsibility or explosie deices set in a number o luxury homes
under construction. 1he group had declared it an eort to stop urban sprawl, halt oerdeelopment, and
presere armland. Perhaps they`d decided the Catskills needed saing next. I glanced at the other papers: Stop
construction or we will. Presere, don`t pillage. \ou put it up, we`ll burn it down. Don`t desecrate this land.` My
ingers curled as I read the inal note. Don`t destroy lemlock Lake.`
Images o my ather`s house and the two bodies I`d ound inside rose in my mind. I orced words past my
teeth. lemlock Lake`
\ep.` North leaned back, his worn leather swiel chair creaking, and packed shreds o honey-colored tobacco
into his pipe. Some deeloper bought a parcel o land across the lake and up aways rom your ather`s place.
le`s putting up ten luxury homes.` Rocking orward, he set the pipe on the corner o the desk and shuled the
letters together. I thought you could go up there, sort o on a part-time basis, and-`
No.` 1he thud o sodden earth against Susanna`s coin illed my ears. I would neer return to the lake.
No.`
1he sheri`s chair rolled against the credenza behind his desk with a dull clunk as he stood and ambled to
the map o Ashokan County that coered an entire wall. le splayed mottled ingers across the green-gray mass
representing mountains and the blue ein o a stream swelling out o Dark Moon lollow and eeding lemlock
Lake. \ith your dad in that nursing home now, his place probably needs a lick o paint or a ew shingles. \hile
you`re making repairs, you can nose around, see i anybody`s seen or heard anything connected to the letters or
the other incidents.`
I elt a twinge o curiosity, couldn`t tamp it down. Other incidents`
Vandalism. Minor thet. Graiti.` le tapped a ile older at the top o one heap. lere`s the ile. Look it
oer. I`ll clear you to start on this next week.`
I dug my ingers into the scarred oak armrests o the isitor`s chair. Is that an order`
le hitched at his pants and scratched a bristling eyebrow with a thumbnail. \ell, no, Dan, it`s not an order.
But you`re the best man or this job. \ou grew up around lemlock Lake-you know what it`s like. 1hey`e got
cable 1V and their calendars show they`re in the new century just like all the rest o us, but they`e still got one
oot in the past. Deep in the past. 1hey keep themseles apart, take care o their own. lell, or all I know, it`s
not tree-huggers behind this, it`s someone local.`
Someone local. I ought to keep my ace still, to show no sign o interest.
North slapped the ile olders. I sent an inestigator up there twice. \aste o manpower. Nobody saw
anything. Nobody knew anything. People up there wouldn`t gie an outsider a glass o water i his teeth were on
ire.`
I rose rom my chair. le`d drawn an accurate sketch and gien me a way out. \hat good would I do I`m
not an inestigator. I`m a patrol sergeant.` I liked it that way, preerred space and stretches o solitude. I didn`t
want an oice and walls around me-especially now.
North waed me back into my seat, slumped into his own, lited the pipe, and tamped more tobacco into the
bowl. \ou`e had some training.` le dug a pack o matches rom his pocket, struck one and touched it to the
tobacco. I`m betting you`ll pick up on something.` le pued, cheeks reddening.
A cloud o apple-scented smoke swirled around him. I blinked away the image o that black an carrying Nat
and Susanna through alling leaes as sunset bloodied the lake.
And ace it Dan, you haen`t been yoursel since the, uh . . .` le paused, chewing at the corners o his
mustache. Not that anyone expected you to bounce right back. \ou went through more hell in one day than
any man deseres in an entire lietime. And then to hae your ather go down with a stroke . . .` le shook his
head. But we`re comin` up on May. It`s been almost seen months. \ou don`t eat enough to keep a bird alie,
you`re in that cruiser all night, eery night.` le pued at the pipe again, cursed and set it aside. And damn it,
you`re not calling or backup when you should. It`s just a matter o time beore you get hurt. Or hurt someone
else.` le leaned closer, narrowed his eyes. I can`t hae that.`
Red anger clogged my throat, distorting my oice. 1hat won`t happen.`
le held out his hands, palms up. I recognized the gesture rom a dozen other discussions. It meant he had
no choice, was only doing his job. Sometimes you can`t carry the weight alone. I`d hate to hae to order you to
take time o and get counseling, but I will i . . .` le shrugged, leaing it there.
Muscles knotted at the hinges o my jaw and around my eyes. No one would trespass in my mind, dissect my
pain.
1he sheri ingered his pipe again. I`d appreciate it i you`d look into this. As a aor to me.`
I stood and slung the chair into a bookcase crammed with grimy regulation manuals dating back to the
Nixon administration. 1wo appreciation plaques teetered then ell rom the top shel. Glass splintered and
skittered across the pitted green linoleum. Assign me to jail duty. Put me on a desk. lire my ass i you want. I`ll
neer go to lemlock Lake again i I lie to be a hundred.`
A wintry smile crossed the sheri`s ace. Maybe you`ll lie that long, son. But maybe you won`t make it
through next week. 1hose two ghosts hae a hell o a hold on you. Better lay them to rest beore they drag you
into a grae beside them.`
lin
A412'%) 9!%,'6 7 06(;<1 L1&&1)1 7 94% B'4%) $*6=)<%,-
Sylia Massara has been writing since her early teens. She has written in a ariety o genres, rom stage plays
to screenplays to noels. Since she can remember, she`s loed immersing hersel in a world illed with
characters o her own creation.
Sylia is also the creator and host o the popular Lit Chick Show ,LCS,, a irtual 1V show that showcases the
work o indie authors, and her blog "Authors helping authors" ,AlA,, which helps promote other authors.
She is an aid supporter o "indie" authors and she dedicates LCS and AlA to all those hardworking, and oten
unrewarded, authors out there.
Sylia lies in Sydney, Australia, with husband, Nick, and our-legged daughter, Mitzy.
Author website: www.syliamassara.com
Smashwords.com author page: https:,,www.smashwords.com,proile,iew,syliamassara
Copyright 2010 Sylia Massara
94% B'4%) $*6=)<%,-
A large window behind Monica reealed panoramic iews o the city o long Kong and though I tried to
appreciate the beauty beore me, it didn`t work. ^otbivg ror/ea! I was in the grips o an anxiety attack brought on
by desperation and all I could think about was Jerey with his de-acto partner, Moira - the ball and chain, as I
called her - liing in a loeless relationship until the end o time. And as ar as I was concerned, the end o time
was a long way away.
Sarah, let me get this straight,` Monica exclaimed in disbelie, taking a deep drag rom her cigarette. \ou
want ve to help ,ov ind a boyriend or your loer`s partner`
I smiled weakly at my best riend. I couldn`t blame her incredulity at what I was proposing. I hardly belieed
it mysel, so how could I expect someone else, who was obiously sane - unlike me - to beliee it
Monica took another drag rom her cigarette and expelled a cloud o smoke that momentarily obscured my
iew o her ace - perhaps this was best. I squirmed at the thought o what she made o all this as I reached or
the red wine she had oered earlier and gulped it down, almost choking in the process. Meanwhile, my mind was
illed with agonising thoughts about the uncertain uture o my relationship with my loer, and I hoped against
hope that somehow a miracle would bring us together or good.
Jerey had told me repeatedly that he didn`t want to hurt Moira`s eelings by dumping her ater iteen years
o being together, but staying with her or the sake o pity was just crazy. I umed eery time I thought about it.
It was unbearable. Jerey should be with me by now. I squeezed my eyes shut and momentarily prayed or that
elusie miracle.
Mike!` I was brought out o my reerie by Monica`s excited cry.
\hat` I asked, somewhat conused, briely entertaining the idea that she had lost her mind. Perhaps the
heay smoking had inally taken its toll on her and she couldn`t think straight anymore. !bat ra. tbi. abovt a
vi/e.
Monica crushed the cigarette butt into a large crystal ashtray that was already oerlowing with the remnants
o other cigarette butts, which had met the same ate.
Mike!` she repeated in exasperation, rowning at me.
Like I was supposed to know what she was talking about. But I hoped against hope that she wasn`t thinking
o a karaoke microphone. earev forbia. 1his was what happened to people when they lied in Asian countries
or too long.
Another large gulp rom my reilled wine glass and I was ready to ocus on what she was trying to say. \ho
or what is vi/e`` I asked, trying to hide my impatience. As she lit up another one o those little deadly cylinders
I hated so much, the thought crossed my already tired mind that I was going to hae to wash my hair in order to
get rid o the horrible, clinging smell o smoke.
Monica rolled her eyes at me. lonestly, Sarah, you really don`t remember`
^o, aov`t revevber. In act, I had no idea what she was going on about. But it was obious that some
diabolical scheme was orming in her ag-ogged brain, because wheneer she was excited about something her
British accent became more pronounced.
1he iew o the busy harbour aded in and out beore my eyes as Monica pued away uriously. I waited,
hoping this was just a weird dream I was haing, and i luck was on my side, I would soon wake up and things
would be normal once more. Or worse still, I suddenly thought in alarm, I really ra. drunk in some karaoke bar
and it was my turn to sing. |gb! Coa bet ve.
Mike`s the man or the job,` Monica announced between pus, and much to my relie. I now paid ull
attention. \ou know him,` she went on. le`s been liing here or ie years, inestment banker rom London.
\ou met him at my last Christmas party.`
I had a ague recollection o Monica`s Christmas party, all o it through an alcoholic haze. My blank stare
must hae registered through the smoky lounge room because she sighed and said, Neer mind,` and dismissed
my look o ignorance. 1he thing is Mike`s always up or a challenge, and I know he`ll loe this.` She threw me a
mysterious smile.
And how do you know` 1his piqued my curiosity, despite the act that I had coninced mysel that her
cigarettes must be impregnated with some sort o hallucinogen.
Because he`s gorgeous and he`s neer had to chase a single emale in his lie. \omen all all oer him,` she
explained, as i I were too slow to understand her meaning.
Poor Mi/e, I rolled my eyes. ife ra. .ooooo tovgb for .ove eote. But i women really did all all oer him, as
Monica suggested, this might just work. So or the irst time since my arrial in long Kong, I elt the stirrings o
hope. Okay,` I ound mysel saying, as i we were simply planning an outing rather than changing a person`s
entire lie. 1his so-called lady killer` sounds perect. But how do you know he`ll do it`
Monica crushed her cigarette butt into the ashtray. Because he`s transerring to 1aipei next month and he`ll
be bored to tears unless he`s got something like this to occupy him.`
Cbarvivg! I couldn`t wait to meet this male ersion o the emme atale. And yet, Monica seemed so sure
about him that I almost belieed this man could turn out to be the solution to my problem. So how do we
know he`s going to ind Moira attractie` I didn`t want to gie way to my rising excitement just yet, not to
mention the act that Moira might ind the guy totally repulsie.
1hat isn`t the point, dummy. I Mike says he`ll do it, then he`ll do it,` Monica replied, ull o conidence.
But i he`s not attracted to her, why would he waste his time charming the woman in order to help someone
he doesn`t een know Besides,` I thought out loud, Moira might hate the sight o him.` Doubt and reality set
in and I saw my dream o a ree Jerey ading quickly away.
Monica laughed, as i the thought o someone inding her precious Mike unattractie was unheard o. In
answer to your question, Mike owes me or a past aour and I know he`ll do it i I ask him. As or Moira, the
minute she lays eyes on him she`s toast,` she reassured me, reaching out and absently patting my arm.
I decided to keep an open mind about Moira`s reaction to God`s git to women, and I did not need to ask
Monica what kind o aour she had done or him in the past. Monica had always had a way with men. One look
at her luscious blonde hair and attractie eatures, which matched an equally luscious igure, said it all.
All right,` I replied beore I changed my mind. So what happens next` And whateer it was, I erently
hoped I wouldn`t regret it.
lin
A412'%) 9!%,'6 B,% G L":" W%/2 7 C%1'4 *= 1 C1,.<,5 L1&'%)
M. L. Kemp's colonial roots go back to 1636 Salem, MA. Ancestors settled her hometown Oxord, MA in
113. Kemp is the author o an historical mystery series eaturing two nosy Puritans rom Boston. Deatb of a
Davcivg Ma.ter is the ourth book in the series and is based, as are all her books, on an actual incident. Other
titles in the series: Deatb of a ara, ette, Deatb of a Dvtcb |vcte and Mvraer,Matber .va Ma,bev. Kemp lies in
Saratoga Springs, N\ where she spends summers selling tip sheets to bettors at the Saratoga racetrack.
Author website: http:,,www. mekempmysteries.com
Smashwords.com author page: http:,,tinyurl.com,25sd2ja
Publisher website: http:,,www.lldreamspell.com
Copyright 2010 M.L. Kemp
C%1'4 *= 1 C1,.<,5 L1&'%)
$*&'*,? U^_`Q
1he young man knocked but no one opened the door to him. 1hinking that perhaps his knock was too
timid, he balled up his ist and banged. Still there was no response. Lidently the gentleman was too occupied to
hear. Perkney said he had an appointment, but the young man assumed Perkney said it in an eort to get rid o
him. No matter - the young man elt it his duty to tender an apology or his intemperate words, and apologize
he would. le thrust open the door and walked in the long room.
Seeing no one he called out: Perkney, are you there` And repeated: Perkney` le took two steps orward.
Although the room was one long space, it was diided into three sections, the irst space being a small
antechamber where Perkney greeted guests. 1here was a round table to the right, with paper, a quill, an inkpot
and a siler tray or calling cards upon it. A narrow chair set next to the table. 1o his let the wall held hooks or
coats and cloaks. Beneath the hooks a small rug coered the loor, with a bootjack or remoing muddy
ootwear. Perkney was quite particular about his guests remoing their muddy clogs or boots.
1he next section o the room lickered with candles in wall sconces. 1he candles illuminated wall hangings o
bewigged ladies and gentlemen lounging in country gardens. 1wo gilded armchairs were placed against the wall.
Across the room a wooden stool sered as a seat or the iddler, who doubled as Perkney`s serant.
1he last section was let in gloom, a bare pine loor where the dancing master gae lessons in sword-play.
1he young man remembered a pile o oils against the wall but he could not quite make out the stack rom his
position across the room. Nor could he see the door that led to Perkney`s priate rooms. Perhaps Perkney was
asleep in there.
1he young man called out across the space: It`s me, Perkney... Jacob Joylie! I`e come back to apologize to
you.` lis words hung unanswered in the late aternoon air. Joylie elt a sense o oppression. \here was the
man le`d let the dancing master or on more than twenty minutes, i that. Perkney hadn`t appeared to be
going out, he`d said he had an appointment. Joylie assumed the appointment was a lesson o some sort. 1he
man taught encing as well as ungodly dance.
Perkney` Really, this was too much. 1he man must be aoiding him. lere he`d rushed back because
conscience scolded him or his rash words to the dancing master and the man hid rom him like a naughty child.
le`d hurried back on purpose, in painul shortness o breath, so that he would not interrupt the man`s lessons,
een i he could not approe o the man`s lesson in lasciious and wanton dance. Court dances! Just because the
wicked Louis o lrance did them, there was no reason or Godly Protestants in New Lngland to mimic the
papist king`s example.
1here was nothing or it but to cross the room and make himsel known at the door to Perkney`s priate
rooms. 1he thought that Perkney might not be asleep there - he might be engaged in wanton behaior - made
him wince, but his conscience would not allow him to hesitate. It was his duty to apologize to the dancing
master. Joylie straightened his shoulders and strode across the space.
Perkney - Mr. Perkney - it`s me, Jacob Joylie!` le called out a warning. lrustrated at the lack o response
he pounded upon the door. Perkney, I know you`re in there! \ake up, man! I hae come to apologize to you!`
le waited. lrustrated by the lack o response Joylie turned. 1he dancing master was arrogant, as he had cause
to know, but he hadn`t thought the man a coward until now. So be it. Joylie shook his head. le spotted the
stack o encing oils leaning against a wall by the ar corner. 1here seemed to be a limb sticking out behind the
oils. Could Perkney be hiding there loolish man - hide rom his sins he could not. lide rom the eye o God
\ea, een unto the belly o the whale did not the Lord spy out the sins o Jonah And he, Jacob Joylie, serant
o the Lord, was only come to oer Redemption to this sinner. le elt a moment`s pang that he had ailed to
make clear his mission, that was a sorry ault o his own. le`d been swept away by the spate o angry words
rom the dancing master, he`d answered in kind. \et his mission was to reason with the man, not to argue with
him.
Joylie tiptoed oer to the corner. A trile near-sighted, he peered at the stack o oils. \es, that was a
slippered stocking on a well-ormed leg sticking out behind the stack.
Ah, Perkney, no need to be araid. I`e come to apologize or my hasty words. It was ery wrong o me to
lose my temper and I hope that you will orgie me.` le twisted his upper body around the oils, thin brows in a
questioning lit. 1he man appeared to be sitting in the corner. Peculiar place to hide, Joylie thought. Nor did
the dancing master scramble to his eet upon his discoery. Joylie stepped around the oils.
Perkney` Joylie screwed up his eyes in an attempt to penetrate the gloom. le leaned orward. A sudden
buzzing illed his head. lis heart thudded like the pounding o a galloping horse. lrancis Perkeny lay slumped
against the corner wall, eyes wide and unseeing, jaw dropped in a silent scream, hands clutching at the oil
sticking out o his abdomen. Perkney was pinned to the wall like a butterly in an insect collection.
Joylie grabbed the pommel o the slender sword and pulled. 1he oil slid out like a knie in melted butter,
Joylie ell back a step in surprise. A great gob o black oozed out o the spot where the oil had penetrated.
Joylie gazed in horror, unable to turn his head rom the sight, unable to moe, unable to cry out. lis brain was
illed with wool, his jaw as rozen as ice, his throat as parched as sand. le wanted to cry out aboe all things, to
call or help, to moe his legs, but he stood as sti as Lot turned into a pillar o salt. larard Diinity College
hadn`t prepared him or this.
low long he stood there gaping at the horrid sight he did not know. Only when the cries penetrated his
brain and strong arms pinioned him was the spell broken.
lo! lelp! Murder!`
\es, yes, he thought with erent gratitude, that`s it! 1hank you, he prayed in silence to the unknown shouter.
lo! lelp! Murder! 1hat`s just what his soul longed to cry out, that his poor earthly body reused to utter.
lo! lelp! Murder!` le stuttered the words all the way to the jail.
A412'%) B,%Q
low times hae changed, I thought. lere am I, letty lenry, a mere woman, inited to join in conerence
with the esteemed young Boston minister, Cotton Mather, and his younger cousin - also a colleague in the
ministry - Mister Increase Cotton. ,All the Cotton and the Mather men were in the ministry so ar as I knew.
Cotton Mather was the ruit and ruition o the two amily branches, the Cottons and the Mathers., In prior
years I`d had to barge my way in on such conerences. I was related to Cotton Mather by his marriage to my
cousin Abigail, but I`m much araid that Cousin Cotton thinks me a orward emale. loweer, I`e proed
useul to him on prior occasions.
Creasy, that is Increase Cotton in ormal address, knows how to erret out the guilty secrets o the human
soul rom his larard College diinity training. I hae the connections and the ortune to buy inormation when
needed. \e make an eicient team, Creasy and I, especially when it comes to the delicate matter o murder.
Cousin Cotton Mather is o a ery sensitie nature, you understand. \ell, great things were expected o him
rom his birth and he has yet to lie up to them. It`s not easy being the progeny o a truly great man like Increase
Mather. Uncle Increase happens to be in London at the moment and Cousin Cotton has charge o the largest
congregation in all the Colonies. Cousin Cotton suers rom seere bouts o neres, especially when called upon
in his ather`s place to sole a community problem, and murder is certainly that. 1he ruit o two honored
amilies bruises easily. 1hat`s where Creasy and I come in. \e do the work or him. Creasy is more or less duped
into doing it because he eels sorry or his cousin. ,Creasy and Cotton Mather are irst cousins by blood., I do it
because it is my duty. And because it reliees my own cousin, Abigail Mather, o much distress. Abigail beliees
the sun shines upon her husband`s command. \hen he is in one o his nerous spasms poor Abigail is beside
hersel with worry, so she sends or me.
1he matter upon which we were to be consulted was the death o a dancing master, one lrancis Perkney,
and or the arrest o a young Reormed minister or the murder. I mysel ound it diicult to imagine Jacob
Joylie so much as pinching someone with a pickle ork, much less slicing the dancing master through with a
encing oil. I ound the man a pompous prig, gien to awning oer the Mathers. 1o some extent I could
understand his admiration or Uncle Increase, who is a great man in our Massachusetts Bay Colony - minister,
diplomat and political power. Increase Mather negotiated a new charter or the Bay Colony with two dierent
monarchs, James and \illiam o Orange. le is also president o larard College. I held my uncle in great
esteem. But you`d think Cotton Mather was a knight in shining armor mounted upon a snow-white steed to
boot, the way Joylie toadied up to him. Cotton Mather was a bare thirty years to Joylie`s twenty. I suppose a
decade`s dierence is ancient to a younger man. I`m glad I`m not quite as old as Cousin Cotton.
As I stepped into the study, Cousin Cotton appeared to be in ill humor rather than in ill health. lis
handsome ace was lushed and his mouth was pued out like a lounder. lis large eyes were dark with liquid
mist, which threatened to spill oer. My riend Creasy sat sprawled in his chair, his eyes burning like dark coals. It
was eident to me that I`d walked into a quarrel.
\here`s Abigail` I asked, breaking a strained silence. Abigail may be my dearest cousin, with the sweetest
nature to boot, but she has a somewhat dim understanding.
Cousin Cotton turned his head to acknowledge my presence. Murder is not a proper subject or the tender
ears o a air emale.` lis eyes widened as he noted to whom he spoke. Cousin Cotton jumped up rom his
chair, waing his shapely hand to indicate I should occupy the acated essel. Do orgie me, Cousin letty. I
orget my manners.` le strode oer to his desk, slid around it and took his seat there. 1his business has me so
upset I cannot think with a logical mind!`
I walked oer to take the seat oered to me, Cousin Cotton`s head ollowing me like a tuted owl. le wore
an impressie curled periwig.
My dear consort will join us with some India tea - it will only be a ew moments,` he said, his oice ciil as
treacle. No doubt the medicinal properties o the tea will soothe our melancholic humors.` le glanced rather
pointedly at Creasy, who sat slouched in a chair, his long legs sprawled across the loor.
I glanced rom one man to the other. Creasy`s lips were set in a narrow line. Perhaps I could diert the two
men rom their argument. I take it we are here to discoer who murdered the dancing master`
\e know who is the murderer, Cousin letty. It`s more a matter o preenting the Mather name rom being
dragged through the mud by this ile creature... this iper... this toad!` In his outburst Cotton Mather`s head
jerked and the periwig slid askew. le raised both hands to adjust it, taking some care. le went on: And the
good name o all the ministers o Christ in Boston must be protected as well. \e are all implicated by this
disgrace. Do you know what that monster did` 1he red cheeks grew mottled white.
Beore I could inquire Cousin Cotton rushed on. le had the erontery to drop a pamphlet by the body!
My ather`s pamphlet! By the body!` llecks o oam gathered at the corner o his mouth. My ather`s amed
pamphlet, An Arrow Against Proane and Promiscuous Dancing, ound next to the body! Now the Mather name
is connected to a oul murder! 1he good Mather name, brought to these shores by my grandather, the great
Richard Mather, and illuminated by his son, my own ather, Increase Mather o Second Church. low dare
Joylie destroy our good name with his jealousy, the lowly worm! 1he iper we nourished in our bosoms.... Oh,
the words o his mouth were as smooth as butter, yet war was in his heart!` Cousin Cotton threw up his hands in
mortiication.
Calm yoursel, Cousin.` I looked oer at my companion or assistance but he maintained a stubborn
silence. Creasy` I said, prompting him to speak. le scowled at me.
I don`t beliee Jacob Joylie murdered that man.` Creasy sprawled urther in his seat.
At my raised brows he went on. `Just because he ound the body doesn`t mean he did the deed. Jacob
Joylie is innocent o murder. le said he`d argued with Perkney, not that he killed the man. Intemperate words
--- that`s what Joylie said he had, intemperate words.` Creasy emphasized the latter phrase.
\es, well, to stab a man to death is intemperate, dear cousin, and to leae a copy o An Arrow Against
Proane and Promiscuous Dancing Drawn rom the Quier o the Minister o Christ in Boston next to the body
to justiy his act is calumny and libel!` Cousin Cotton leaned oer the desk as he argued with Creasy.
Creasy pushed his shoulder back against the chair until he leaned in a perilous angle on two chair legs.
Joylie says he returned to Perkney`s rooms to apologize. le was so upset upon inding Perkney`s body that he
lost all coherence. Poor Joylie was in shock, Cousin.`
Oh, o course... poor Joylie. Standing there with a bloody sword in his hand means nothing, I suppose.`
Cotton Mather threw a iery glance at his cousin.
It means Joylie tried to help the man by pulling that obscene thing out o the man`s guts. I daresay I
would hae done the same,` Creasy said. It was a natural reaction.`
An unnatural act, rather, when the iper put it in there in the irst place.` Mather spread his shapely hands
upon the desktop. Did he cry out Did he call or help Did he run or the constable 1hose are natural
reactions, dear cousin, and he did none o them. I am told on excellent authority that he did none o those
things. le stood oer the ictim with the bloody implement in his hands, his ictim`s blood dripping all oer the
loor, and he made no moe until he was dragged rom the scene o his oul deed. I was told this by none other
than Constable Phillymort himsel.` Cotton Mather leaned back in triumph.
1hat ool, Phillymort!` Creasy spat out the name like a curse. Phillymort would arrest his own mother i
she baked a pie on the Sabbath.`
I elt I should interene, as a disinterested party. All Boston talked o the death o the dancing master, but I`d
been enmeshed in mercantile aairs. Not until I receied the note rom Cousin Cotton Mather biding me to his
home had I een thought about the murder.
I addressed the red-aced gentleman at the desk. I trust you hae no objection to our making a ew discreet
inquiries, Cousin Cotton Ater all, i we - Creasy and I - discoer that someone else had a reason or killing the
dancing master, it would help clear the Mather name o any inolement. Not that I think the Mather name is
tarnished in any way. \hy... how could it be` I played to my cousin`s particular anity here. My dear cousin, I
know you to be o such a sensitie nature that his matter causes you great grie. I applaud your eorts to keep
the name o your oreathers ree o blemish and I assure you, your own cousin Creasy and I shall do our utmost
to assist you in that endeaor.` I illed my oice with sympathy. A little sympathy goes a long way with a man.
Cotton Mather sat back in his chair and groaned aloud. Ah, letty - how sweet is the understanding o a
woman`s mind! \ou do know my upset when the amily name is concerned.`
I nodded, taking care to keep my expression serious. I ignored the ace that Creasy made at me, wrinkling up
his nose and his eyes in distaste.
Cousin Cotton went on: 1here are eil people in this to town who would be only too happy to stomp the
Mather name in the mud. Great men hae enemies, Cousin letty, and while I am only a tiny gnat, my ather is a
giant among men. My little abilities are as a seedling beneath the shade o a mighty oak. Such is Increase Mather
o Boston. lis good name must be protected rom the rabble. Oh, threw me into the mud and let mine enemies
trample upon me, dear cousin, I care not! Only sae my ather`s good name, I beseech you!` le sat up straight,
clasping his hands to his chest.
low could I deny this appeal A return o Cotton`s bouts o neres would mean a dreadul time or my
gentle cousin Abigail. Mather`s its o weeping prostrate in the dust upset dear Abigail no end, especially since
my cousin keeps her home as neat and ordered as a Sunday sermon. 1here was not one speck o dust to be
ound upon her loors. She would hae to send out or some. Rather than put the sweet soul through such an
ordeal, I acquiesced.
I rose rom my seat and crossed the room, holding out my hand in ealty. Cotton grabbed it as i he sinking
in the quicksand o the bogs. Cousin Cotton, you may rely upon me - and upon your cousin Creasy, as you
well know in your heart. Ater all, he is named or your ather and cares or that name as you do. Come Creasy.`
I turned to that gentleman. Let`s go to Mister \illard. I understand the accused is under house arrest there`
1hat is all he is at the moment - the accused.` Creasy shot a stern look at Cotton Mather.
Mather ignored his cousin but he blessed me with a Saintly smile. \es, dear cousin letty, do you go and
accost the miscreant. I knew I could count upon you to uphold the amily honor.` 1his was a parting barb
directed at Creasy.
I grabbed Creasy`s arm and hauled him out o the door beore he could react.
lin
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