The Dirty Jobs

by cassibill

Picks up from "Maltese Falcon", Nate has his plan and they have theirs. How will they function without him and how will they get him back? The honest man became a thief, but when did the theives become honest? Rating it T, might have to change it later.

10. Chapter 10

AN- Sorry for a longer delay than usual. It was like the chapter that never ended for a while. It actually GREW three pages in the editing. The text was basically finished back in March and I wanted to have it up by the end of the month, but I had a very ambitious cold, flu, or plague...something that left me sick for a week and I'm still a little exhausted. I was finally up for tackling the editing of nearly sixty pages this week. So, here is the current longest chapter. I don't own the characters. I just take them out to play.

Chapter 10- When the Best I'll Ever Do Won't Be Enough

The young man rubbed his eyes and reached for his bottle of orange soda. The groan he had held in leaked out, when he found it empty. He tossed it in the trash, admiring the perfect arc that almost went in. It was cut short, however, by Eliot's hand, before it reached the can and the other man rinsed and tossed it in a box under the sink.

"We'll have to slip our trash in with the family's and they've got bins up there. We need to blend in as best we can. Besides, it's wasteful." Eliot sat a fresh bottle next to the computer. "How we doin'?"

"We've eliminated the big land areas, but we still have a huge list of smaller owned and rented parcels. I'm working on a program to prioritize. We don't have the time to check out each one, so, I figure, if we narrow the list a little first, we'd get this moving that much faster. I'm looking at things like distance from the road and other properties, accessibility. Basically the factors we came up with earlier and building a mathematical model for it. It should kick out a list in another hour or two and we can start at the top." He pointed at various windows on the screens and sighed.

Sophie had gone out on the back porch with a cup of tea to work on the best way to get to their mark and Parker had likewise disappeared. If Hardison had to guess, she probably went to visit her new friend up at the main area. That left just the two men in the house with Hardison monitoring the computers and Eliot doing dishes or "clearing his mind", as he'd called it.

"You really think we can pull this off?" He hated to say it, but they weren't exactly at their best right now. Sophie had just gotten back, but they'd lost Nate. They were all worried about the absent leader and keeping Sterling off their tail. They had more constraints and less resources. They hadn't gotten out of their last job intact, even with two grifters. Who wouldn't be having doubts?

"We've pulled off bigger jobs under a lot more pressure. Think about it. We are layin' as low as we can get. We have a pretty well fixed base to work from. Just think of it as recon. We're doin' the deepest, thoroughest intel op we ever have, because we can afford time, but not mistakes. Once we have the big picture, all of it, we go from there. Slow and easy, man. No reason to spook anybody. Have you gotten into the DEA file?" Eliot leaned on the back of his chair. It was hard to think of anyone else being mastermind, but Eliot was playing the part for now and he seemed to have it down.

"I've got what they got and we're way ahead of them. They haven't connected the stolen cars with the drugs at all. To be fair, the FBI noticed the spike in the stolen parts and haven't connected it to the spike in meth production either. I installed a dormant virus. It only activates when the files are updated and just long enough to hitchhike out on an email and come to me.

"Customs tipped them to it being one group moving the cars when they intercepted a big shipment trying to get out through New Jersey and the VINs traced back here. No one, but us is looking at the whole thing. What exactly do you think they've got going on?" Maybe, if they could figure out how exactly it worked, he could trace the routes and find the points of origin.

"It's easy to dummy up a stolen car long enough for a one-way trip and small shipments of product aren't going to be noticed, if you do it right. I can name you half a dozen chemicals I could buy or mix off the shelf that would mask the smell from a dog for a couple hours. It's the money that's hard hide. Either you have enough large bills to be suspicious or too many small bills with the same problem." Eliot looked at the screen with the newly uncovered FBI file.

"Well? How are they hiding they money?" Now that Eliot seemed to have found the weak link, he wanted to exploit it.

"Simple, by not usin' it when they can get away with it." He gestured for Hardison to show him the rest of the file.

"I know we're not exactly in New York or L.A., but I don't think meth heads are taking chickens down to the street corner. Besides, how is Haywood getting his cut, fundraiser dinners?" This was driving him crazier than whatever this thing was between him and Parker.

"Locally, it's cash based, but I think the cars are payment for the meth. That means there ain't a huge amount of cash out in the open for long. Everyone still gets paid, but the big amounts aren't in cash. We need to find how it's bein' laundered. The cash in the city is probably goin' through one of the race tracks. They have someone in the bettin' windows. The smaller dealers' dirty cash goes in with all the other small bets and comes out on a winnin' ticket or two for the higher up. I'm not sure about here. One or two of Haywood's legitimate lookin' campaign contributors aren't in all likelihood. Don't they have to keep a list?" Eliot looked him square in the eye and Hardison sprang into action.

"Of course, he's hiding it in plain sight. If we follow it back from there, we can trace the parts, at least. What about the Lexington end?" He had already hacked the campaign financials, but he hadn't thought look at the full list. He'd looked at the big backers and the small, clustered donations from events. He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for, but, at least, he knew where to look. He printed several copies so they could all look for patterns and sent one to Nate with a note. Lightning cracked outside and a window rattled.

Elliot took his and a second copy. "We'll have to look at the employees of the tracks. I'll take Sophie a refill and bring her up to speed."

After the other man moved off to brew more tea, Hardison set his programs to work, looking for patterns. Whatever good feelings he had over making progress were tempered by Parker's continued absence in what was building into a nasty storm. He was on edge and he didn't think that was going away any time soon.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Out of all of them, Parker was the one that hated being cooped up the most. She couldn't stand the feeling any longer and so she'd slipped away from the small cottage and simply wandered a bit. The rain was picking up though and she was getting more soaked by the minute. Softer fabrics meant quieter movement, but they didn't exactly turn water.

A conveniently located shed allowed her to get her bearings and a little relief. She'd claimed the map Billy'd given them early on and pulled it and a small Mag-lite from her clothing. The freezer bag she'd used had kept it dry and she studied it to find exactly where she was. She had to retrace her path as best she could to decide which shed she was in. These small shelters had been strategically placed throughout the entire pasture complex, most of the farm really, ensuring that livestock could find some sort of protection in half an hour. While some were more substantial, like the barn near the house they were using or the one in the main pasture, most were basic and followed the same pattern: twenty feet east to west by twelve north to south with a single door on the eastern end, a rack with hay in the western end, and a source of water outside at the south-eastern corner. Parker was sharing hers with family of birds who'd made a mud and grass nest on the inside face of a roof beam. Billy had called them barn swallows when Parker had spotted one flying around yesterday. The safety of the human-frequented buildings was a powerful draw and the large cat population was too well fed to be interested in catching something so quick.

When the storm briefly slacked, she took off southward, keeping in mind the next closest shelter. Nothing was interesting out here. It was just grass and some trees and these little buildings once in a while. None of the animals were outside when they had a comfortable, dry place they could be. Besides, it was nearly suppertime. Even in good weather, they'd be making their way to the central area and finding their place in the barn.

This morning's introduction to the tenants of a previously unexplored building made Parker curious. She wondered who else she hadn't met. There were over two dozen buildings clustered at the main drive and Parker had only been in a few of them. She'd decided to go exploring after dinner, when everyone else had split up to different tasks, and headed up to the small "settlement" of buildings. It wasn't a bad comparison really, since its population outnumbered the small town at the foot of the ridge.

The rain had really picked up not long after she'd started out and she'd ducked into the nearest of the convenient string of shelters. Since then, she'd been ducking in and out of them as the weather let up or let loose. Her preferred cotton clothes, while great on the job, had gotten soaked and she was a little cold in the wind. She hadn't decided what to do when she got up there either. She had originally intended to explore on her own, but when she noticed the sheep and their llama companion in the distance as they'd made for the barn, she changed her mind. Boots was nice once you got to know him, but Jeffery wasn't. Eliot said he thought the rooster's name had been a joke about a serial killer who ate people. She didn't want to meet something mean by herself. She'd have to satisfy her curiosity some other way. Well, maybe not.

The front screen door slamming shut had caught her attention. The high, bellowing call that followed would get anyone's attention. The food was on its way and everyone had best come and get it. Parker's old plan morphed into a new one. She would follow Billy around as the younger woman fed and checked on everyone for the night. She could explore with a guide. She just wished it wasn't raining so hard. She wasn't used being out in storms like this. She could work in this kind of weather, but tried not to because it made things slick. Being on the roof of a tall building in that scenario was a really bad idea. Plus, she'd have to hurry to catch up with Billy. She chose the most direct route she could that didn't take her past the house. She arrived at the barn and found a spot in the haymow about the same time as Billy stepped in the main door with the scrap buckets to a welcoming chorus of everything from loud neighs and yips to kittens scaling her legs and the silent, but excited gaze of the rabbit watching from the inside portion of his pen.

"Good God, guys. You act like you ain't eat in days and I'll never feed you again after this." The amused young woman set down one bucket, tossed her dripping hood back, and removed two kittens that had managed to climb into the bucket of diced meat and buttermilk with affectionate annoyance.

"Come on, babies. Let me through." She started pouring the five gallon bucket into the scattered pans, finishing up in the tack room with a quick head count of the dozen kittens that "belonged" to Tippy so she could shut their door for the night. "Dallas, Austin, Anderson, Madison, Montgomery, San Francisco, Memphis, Nashville, Knoxville, Juneau, Tempe, and..." She trailed off a moment, looking around for and then retrieving a small, black kitten, who had snatched a choice bite and snuck away to eat it, placed him inside and closed them in. "In you go, Bos."

"Fance's three little ones are in the house and Scotty's two are up in the mow. Make and Savi are there with their momma. Fancy's with her two big boys." She glanced from pan to pan mumbling as she did, but finally she nodded as a black and white tomcat came running through the door, dripping with every step.

"Where have you been? Everyone else was already here and dry. You'd think you'd be the one to know better than to go off gallivantin'." She grabbed a rag and bent to wipe down what she could of him. She paused to scratch the bald patch on his neck, scooped him up long enough to dry his legs, and placed him, squirming, on the floor with a nudge toward another large tomcat. "Go eat with your brother."

She had started to straighten back up when she froze. "It's alright. Did I scare you? I can't blame you for wantin' an easy meal on a night like this. Come on. It's just me..." She paused and was silent a moment. "Parker...you don't have to hide you know. If you want to visit, go ahead. Come on, Penny. She's not gonna bother you." Billy stood and backed up, looking around until she found the thief and came to sit on the mow steps.

Parker came down to join her, careful of the puddle Billy's rain gear was making. While Billy was dry inside her rain suit and boots, Parker was wet even after she wrung out her jacket and draped it over a cross-brace to dry. "How did you know I was here? Did Lighthorse tell you?" She offered an accusing look at the collie.

"Nope. Penny did. She hasn't been that shy around me in a while. Strangers are a whole 'nother thing all together." She tipped her head in the direction she'd been looking before.

"Is that another cat?...That's not a cat." Parker locked eyes with the shiny, black ones in a wet, pointy, white face.

"No, she's not. I told Lighthorse she was when she first showed up and he was a pup though. I didn't want him after her if she wasn't gonna make trouble. That's it. Come eat." She smiled and coaxed as the drenched possum waddled in looking like an old, worn mop.

"She showed up one winter night that made this look like campin' weather a couple years back. Cold and hungry enough that the risk was worth it to her. Once she figured out that I was more than willin' to let her eat and get warm, she started hangin' around. She wasn't quite grown yet, so she got used to the idea that she was safe here. I'm not sure where she lives in warm weather, but when it turns cold she moves into an old wooden bucket up in the corner of the mow, there on the straw side. I throw a handful or two of straw in it from time to time when I'm gettin' some or sweepin' up what's loose. She gets warm, is guaranteed to find a meal, and anything that would get after her wouldn't dare come in to get her. A coyote or dog isn't comin' in here without a horse, cow, Boots, or Lighthorse sendin' them right back out a lot rougher than they came in. I thought I might see her tonight. By now, I know when she'll be in for a visit. I've even petted her once or twice on accident."

The woman chuckled at Parker's look of confusion. "I just saw something light and fuzzy and we had cats that color and it was a case of mistaken identity. I just reached without lookin', thinkin' it was Ping or Pong. Surprised us both. Haven't seen her much lately and I have my suspicions why."

"About what?" Parker wondered what could be suspicious about the small, archaic animal.

Billy gestured towards the wild creature that had been watching them intently and glancing back the way she came. "About where she's been. Go on. It's okay. Plenty here." With a hopper fed pan of dry feed always accessible, the cats never really got hungry under normal circumstances. Their evening and morning meals were more a large treat for variety and to provide an incentive to be home overnight.

Penny eyed the dog warily, but was more intent on the stranger, though finally she gave in. She made a noise that almost sounded like a sneeze and returned to her vigil. A moment later Parker caught on as Billy's suspicions were confirmed.

A tiny copy of Penny, maybe a foot long from pink nose to the tip of its bare tail, peeked around the corner. It hesitated, but the smell of food and the sight of its mother unhurriedly eating bought him dashing to the pan. Over the next several minutes, two more came in from the spot they'd been hiding in. Lighthorse had perked up, but a shake of Billy's head caused him to finish him meal and go curl up on his bed.

"Babies!" Parker whispered excitedly.

"Mmmhmm. Thought she might have some and be waitin' 'til they had some size on 'em to bring 'em up. Less temptin' for the cats." Billy nodded and studied the three new arrivals intently.

The four quickly cleared the first pan and went to another. Penny had eaten with the cats before and neither her nor Bertie thought much of it, but it was a new experience for the wild babies and for Macon and Savannah who had been eating with their mother. Savannah hissed at the strange creatures and Macon puffed himself up as well. The closest of the joeys opened its mouth wide in response. It took several minutes for everyone settle back down and, by then, both adults had finished eating and Macon and Savannah left with their mother as they hadn't really been truly hungry to start with. They were fed extra during the day and had their mother besides. The old cat climbed up on the worn futon mattress with the dog and settled at one end with her kittens.

"They sleep with the dog?" Parker asked when she saw the arrangement.

"Well, she does and they don't know no diff'r'nt. She wasn't sure about him at first, she was mostly grown when I got her, but when the neighbor's dog chased her and Lighthorse ended up roughin' the old fool up for it, she took to him, her hero. The babies were born just behind the bed there under the platform. No way to it, but past him, and he laid there with his nose under, whinin' and watchin', or pacin' in front the whole time she was havin' 'em. Easily a 'Top Twenty-Five Funniest Animal Moment' for me. Then, he kept peekin' in the box when Fance had hers and he kept comin' up here when Scotty had hers. I know they ain't his, but you'd think he was daddy-to-be. He watches the little ones extra close. I think I know why, but I can't ever know exactly what he thinks." Billy was waiting for the little ones to eat their fill before going down and possibly frightening them off. Their mother wouldn't spook at her proximity, but the babies wouldn't be quite so comfortable yet.

"What do you think he thinks though?" Parker was curious by nature. It made her a better thief. It made her want to know what was inside of things and how she could get it. Her people lessons with Sophie were like learning to steal that people thought, felt, or did. Billy gave her animal lessons.

"See, dogs are social animals, pack animals. Wolves live with other wolves in the wild. They take care of the other wolves in their pack and they chase away what doesn't belong in the pack's territory, even other wolves. Some wolves are the boss of others and only the bosses have puppies. All the other wolves take care of the puppies, because the puppies belong to the whole pack. Healthy puppies mean a strong pack with more hunters who can defend more territory. Even though they aren't the parents, they will care for the pack's puppies. Thing is, dogs have been with people so long, it changed what exactly a pack means. It doesn't mean just other dogs anymore.

"Most cases that means that the people they live with and some they see often are the pack. Since either one or both adults probably raised it from a puppy, it thinks they are the boss, since only the boss would have puppies. Lighthorse is like that with me. I raised him after he was weaned. I'm the head of his pack. What's mine is his to guard. Ma and Gran are his pack. He can get pretty possessive of Gran. He rarely sees her in bad weather, but when my aunt or cousin come to take her to a doctor's visit, he escorts her from door to vehicle and back and he's brought me to the house twice when she fell and I didn't hear her callin' for me." Billy continued her explanation even as she watched Penny's babies finish eating at one pan and move to another. She quietly wondered if maybe they should have came up to eat before tonight.

"'Course things depend on how narrow a dog defines his pack. Ma had a house dog that adored my sister as a baby. He slept under her crib and forbid anyone, but Ma from comin' in the room. The smaller breeds are more one person dogs, but so are Dobermans, Rottweilers, some of the other big breeds. They might not take to but a couple people. Gran's daddy had a hound that wouldn't let anyone but him and one of her sisters close enough to even feed him. The workin' and, especially, livestock dogs have wider views." Billy paused again to see what Penny's little ones were doing.

"The whole idea behind behind the Border Collie was a full package livestock dog. The Scots needed a dog that could tend to whatever they needed him to. A Corgi is short to work cattle, because when they kick, it goes over a Corgi's head. A Bordie isn't short, but he can go from standin' up to flat on his belly, as fast as he thinks it. I've seen that one do it. He's fast and agile and persistent when he's tryin' the get the horses to do somewhere. He doesn't have to do it much, just when one gets out mostly. He's optimized for sheep or goats. He's quick and athletic enough to manage a whole flock, but he's patient and calm enough that he won't scare them plum to death, if they aren't used to him. His kind were bred to be able to work anything that they could be asked to, in any kind of terrain, in any weather. That takes a lot physically, but he has to be smart too. And he knows he can't treat all the animals the same, even the same kind. He knows who he can just get started in the right direction and who he needs to keep after. He knows when he has to herd a cat or one of the birds or if he can simply pick them up to move them. Depends on if they'll tolerate him doin' it. He also knows the difference between what runs loose, like the cats. What has very few limits, the geese just have to stay on the property. What belongs in a specific area, like the horses or my pig. Then there are the things that have a pen and belong in them unless a person gets them out. He reacts accordingly.

"He only gets after the cats if it involves their safety. You know, if they're in the road or under a car. He breaks up fights if they get too heated too. The geese get brought back in. He'll put in the horses or sheep or, at least, contain them somewhere and then find somebody. He's even barked at the kitchen window when Gran was the only one home and a gate had been left open. With poultry or once with Dax," she inclined her head at the sprawling form of the big, gray rabbit, "he just brings them to a person. He watches and he knows when I move things around. When I open up a paddock or move chickens, like I did Jeffery and his girls, is nothing to worry about. A pen gets unlatched and a jailbreak made and he'll be trackin' somebody down carryin' a chicken or layin' across the open gate, barkin', until somebody gets a clue and shows up to see what's goin' on. But you'll appreciate one other job qualification that was included in the Border Collie. He's a thief when so directed." Billy smiled.

Parker looked between the dog and the woman several times in surprise. "He steals?"

"He's designed to. The group that did the most work on the breed raided livestock, mostly at night. Look at him. Think about what he can do and what you'd need to steal a bunch of sheep or cows." She gestured at the dark dog who seemed to be watching everything in the barn at once.

Parker studied the dog with a new interest and a professional eye. He was dark and would blend in with the shadows easily. He was quiet. He had a light tread and the only times he'd made noise was when the situation called for it. He was quick and flexible just like she was. He saw and noted everything, obstacles and routes. He knew instinctively how to get new animals to cooperate with little fuss and he could read them and know who would bolt. He could do what he was taught to do unsupervised, more than making him capable of driving a stolen herd home without people who might have taken off in another direction as a diversion or stayed behind for some reason.

"He's a thief." Parker smiled back at the woman next to her.

"If you ask him to be. I can tell him to do something with words or gestures, assumin' he has to be told." When the thief looked at her, she smiled again. "He's smart, frightenin'ly smart. Most dogs will learn, if you work with them enough. He can learn anything I want to teach him and he'll master it after just a few times. But it's not just that he can be taught, like I said, just about any dog can, he can learn from experience and teach himself to do somethin', somethin' complex. He'll actually work out how somethin's done and how to do it himself" The pride was unmistakable.

"But, how's that different?" Parker was confused again. She hated when people used two words she thought were the same in a way that made them not the same.

"How they're done. I taught him to sit by tellin' him to and then pushin' on his rump 'til he sat, then I told him he was good and gave him a treat or played with him. He figured it out that when I said sit, I wanted him in the position I was puttin' him in, so he started doin' it himself. I taught him and he learned. After that he knew not just to sit when I told him to, but that if I said something and showed him how to do it, when I said those words, that's what I wanted him to do. Show him once, twice if it's complicated, and he'll have it. Same with gestures. I said the word with the gesture until he figured out that the two meant the same thing. That's being taught. He can go beyond that and not all dogs can.

"See, he watches, studies, remembers. He gets used to patterns, mine, the other animals, the whole place. If there's a dog that can be described as a statistician with OCD, it'd be a Bordie. Once he figured out how things were meant to be, he put a lot of effort keepin' 'em that way. He'll try to fix it if the pattern is disrupted or if someone isn't there to tell him to do something." She watched Parker intently, trying to see if she was explaining it right.

"I don't understand." Parker admitted.

Billy sighed and thought a minute. "The day I got him, I was workin' on an essay for Monday. I was writin' it out longhand, so I could stay out with him. I had him in the yard under the trees. I was in the hammock and he was sniffin' around at all the new stuff. I'd finish a page and then I'd stuff it under my shoes on the ground to keep it from blowin'. Didn't always work though. I got up and gathered everything back up the first time with him on my heels. But the second time it happened, he didn't stay with me. He chased one page 'til he caught it. I then went and got it from him, told him he was a good boy, fussed over him, and put it back under the shoes. The next page blew out of my hand while I was tryin' to get it under the shoes. He chased it down and brought it to me before I could get up. He had learned the pattern. The pages belonged under the shoes, and, if they blew away, you went and got them. He learned to sit up the same way. He saw my cousin's poodle doin' it a few weeks after I got him and when I tried to teach him, he caught on to what I wanted before I could try to show him all the way. He figured out if that dog did that, he could do it too. That's simply learnin' for himself. That little talent's got me in trouble a time or two. He figures out things I'd rather he didn't. I have to use the child locks to take him to see Doc. He figured out the door handles and the power windows."

Billy gave a good natured chuckle and looked at the watching dog. He knew she was talking about him and wagged his tail. She smiled at him again and found a dog biscuit in her pocket, throwing it to him with as much ease as he caught it.

"Teachin' himself something is a little more. As a puppy, he spent the night in a crate in here. I'll tell him to come on and bring him in here, give him his wet food, and close him up for the night. He got in the habit of goin' to the bathroom on the way to the barn and carryin' his favorite toy to bed with him. When he got big enough to sleep out here in a bed, I started feedin' him in the mudroom and when he got done, I'd let him out. This is first of the times he refined the process 'til he don't need me. He naturally likes bein' out to take care of things, so if he got done before I came to let him out, he barked and I came and opened the screen door. Well, one day, I didn't hear him bark, but when I checked, he was outside. I figured Ma or maybe Gran had let him out. I asked and they hadn't. Next day, I watched. He had figured out that if I could open the door by pressin' the latch, he could simply press the latch and let himself out. He got done, stood up on his back legs, put his left foot on the doorjamb, and hit the latch with his right. I've never opened that latch for him again and, once or twice, he's opened it for me when I had a load and told him to go on. He figured out the outside one too and lets himself in at breakfast time. He's come got me too. It's not that he can do something he's told to or even learnin' to help or do somethin' for me when I'm there. He's smart enough to know when something should be done and will do it alone, if he can.

"It's like this. The geese don't belong in the road and we try to keep them out of the driveway and yard. They can be anywhere else. He's not allowed to bother them and I leave them alone unless they are in one of those places. Then I will chase them back where they belong. I had a time gettin' him to let them be as a pup, but eventually he learned. Those beaks and wings are pretty rough teachers. I know from experience. The first time I had to get them off the road, because they had gone out to eat where the county mowed the ditches, he held back. Then he realized, he could chase them out there. He ran along with me as I brought them up to the gate and helped get them in, but I wouldn't let him bother them once they were in. Second time, he ran along the opposite side from me and we put them in pretty quick. Third time, he was bringin' them to the gate before I saw them, so I ran to open it, though a couple had squeezed through it. He knew then that they could fit through the closed gate. I've never had to chase them in again. I know they've been out. Hard to miss where a goose's been, but they're always where they belong when I look. He can't bother the geese unless they are where they don't belong, but then I want him to bother them until they get back where they belong. He does it without me ever knowin'. He's learned everything I've thought to teach him. He's learned some things before I got around to it, and a lot of things I'd never thought of teaching him or want to know.

"His natural tendency is to form a pack and define a territory. To him, everything here is the pack and the farm is its territory. The pack's babies are common property. That means those little guys down there with him and all the rest are his in a way and he plays dotin' uncle well." As if to prove the point, an impromptu game of king of the hill was underway...with Lighthorse as the hill and Macon trying to find a way to dethrone his sister from her spot on the dog's back. The indignity was borne with a sigh and a thorough sniffing of Macon as he circled around for a flanking attack.

Both women laughed as both kittens decided to change the game and pounce on their mother. Penny had retreated to a secluded corner with her brood and excited mews from the stack of hay behind them told the whole barn that Scotty had returned to her little ones. The pans below were all but empty and the rest of the animals were demanding their turn.

"The natives are gettin' restless. Best get to scoopin' before we get a riot. Well, I'll toss a little hay since I'm up here already. There's grass, but they'll be stayin' close by 'til the weather lets up. They can munch on this while I double check the birds and, then, I'll dole out grain. Sounds like it's slackin' a little. Best use the lull."

Billy flicked her head upward to draw Parker's attention to the slightly less deafening roar of the rain on the metal roof. A couple tugs brought down a few bales from the stacks around them. "Have to avoid that one. Hate to squish a little guy shiftin' 'em around. Might have to see about gettin' a few off there though. I'd rather use up what's left from last year before startin' in on the new cuttin'." She made a gesture to the stack that had become a nursery with her knife and started popping strings with one hand and shoving it through strategically placed openings with her foot where it fell the remaining distance into the hay racks. "Hey, you down there. Move your head. Come on." She tapped her foot angrily beside one slot, allowing a little hay to fall. "Really? Fine. Have it your way." She made the drop and then watched through the slot.

"What's going on?" Parker appeared across the slot and peered downward. Below a white head and pale, reddish colored shoulders were still shedding bits of hay from where it had landed on his massive head and thick neck.

"He wouldn't move his head so I dropped all eighty pounds of hay square on it." They watched the ox munch on bits of alfalfa.

"I don't think he cares." Parker had thought horses were big and Billy had ones even bigger than the racehorses, but the pair of oxen below were raw bulk.

"I'm not sure he even noticed. After the world on his shoulders, makes sense he don't mind hay to the head."

"The world?" Parker didn't understand.

"Parker, Atlas. Atlas, Parker." A snort to clear hay from his nose and a faint flick of his eyes at the sound of his name were all they got when food was involved.

"I still don't get it. How can he hold the world?" Parker pushed an open bale down into the pack of minis.

"It's a joke. His name's Atlas." Billy tugged a bale down and opened it in one motion, sending it through the hole in a way that screamed practice.

"Like the map?" Parker was fascinated by the way the animals set in on the hay. The taller ones reached back and the shorter ones started in the front. No reason to fight, plenty for everyone.

"Like the Titan they named the map for." Billy was spreading two for the sheep. "Greek myth. He was so strong, he held up the world on his shoulders. Earthquakes were him re-balancing it. Hercules subbed in for him once. Horses are faster, but nothin' can furnish raw power like an ox, let alone a good team. You got to handle them to keep them managed. I started with these two as bucket calves and they could still move a good bit then. I have pulled stuck tractors free with these boys and not just our little one. As much as the Jube means 'cause it was Pa's, I still think a little Ferg is a better tractor and it's smaller, and older, still. I go old school. Those little old tractors may lack power, but they can go places and turn sharper than a big one. When even one of them can't do it, I have other, more traditional, options." Billy smirked down at the draft animals below as she returned from the area above the sheep fold. "A team of big mules and we'd have a trifecta. You can wait here while I run check the poultry pens."

"I wanna see." The thief started down the steps after the other woman.

"Okay. Just pay attention. I don't wanna have to catch something in this. Well, to be honest, I'd be more Lighthorse than me." She glanced at Parker and the sodden jacket on her arm and offered her a spare rain slicker hanging by a door, then pulled her hood up, and ducked through the maze of gates, dividers, and stairs to go back out into the storm.

"You don't need to feed them?" Parker pulled the hood up.

"No. I fill their feeders in the morning. Birds can't see in the dark. They're settlin' in for the night. I mostly just need to check that everything is buttoned up for the night. A door or gate loose can get tore off or kill something, slammin' in the wind, or let somethin' in. They can also do stupid things in bad weather. I've seen them hang themselves, because they panic and run around 'til they get caught in something. I think I've managed to make it pretty safe, but I still check. Basically, I'm gonna see that everything is latched good and that they are all roostin' for the night. Jeff and the girls first, then the northern side of the lot and work back."

Parker hung back as Billy peeked in the building and did a quick head count. When Billy closed the door and then gate, she rattled each to be certain and then moved on.

"He didn't do anything."

"Nope. He's sleepin' on the roost. Most of them will be already. It gets dark faster indoors than out and it's been rainy all afternoon." They moved on.

"What's that thing?" Parker stared at a freckled bird with the knobby head.

"That would be a guinea. They're loud, mean, and dumb, but they eat bugs like nobody's business. The only reason we have that many is they lay forty, fifty eggs a clutch and they hatch good. Runnin' loose though, they'd be lucky to raise any. One hen got loose last year and managed to go to sittin' before we could catch her, so we left her. She hatched a bunch and lost most of them down the blocks when we were buildin' the foundation for the new chicken houses. The two or three she didn't lose that way, I think the cats got while I was fishin' the keets up out of the holes into a bucket. I raised them in the brooder. The only one we haven't had to shuffle to find a place for is off in a pen over there. The others roughed her up so we put her by herself."

Billy lead the way from one building to the next and the next and the next. Each was filled with an assortment of species, sizes, and colors. Most ran loose in the buildings, but a few were in scattered cages in twos and threes, pairs and trios of small chickens. The only exception was a hen sitting in a tray of straw in one.

"What'd she do?" Parker leaned in close to the yellow hen in the cage.

"Decided to go to sittin'." Billy smiled.

"So she got penned up, because she sat?" Parker was surprised.

"On eggs, Parker. She made a nest and started broodin'. She's gonna hatch little ones and I don't want them to bother her or step on the peeps when they hatch. Besides, it lets me give her feed and water right there so she doesn't have to leave her nest. A little shufflin' and we should have a nice little pen for the whole family once they hatch." Billy quietly started pointing about as she double checked in her head. "Yeah, I think I can free up one of the built-ins down at the end for 'em. Ma and I did shuffle some around earlier. A few more should do it. Other than the Barred Rocks, Skip, and the little blue Cochin's of Ma's, they could all use a little more room. The guineas made things a bit cramped." With an incline of her head, she lead them to the next building.

"Barred Rocks? Those are the checked kind we moved this morning and Skippy can't walk, but what about the others?" Keeping all the different kinds straight was hard, but she tried. Parker ducked into the next building behind Billy and followed the path of the small flashlight to where it stopped on a cage in the corner and two dark mounds of feathers in it.

"They're old, really old. We have to trim his feet from time to time and she can't see anymore. She knows where things are by memory. Too hard to change now. She still sat last year though." Billy leaned in close and whispered. "No luck though. I felt bad for her and slipped her six of the little guineas. Made her happy. I may have to repeat this year, if she tries again. Find her a few incubator babies. We usually have some hatchin' most weeks, March to August. There was a few beaks peekin' out at me when I checked on them earlier. Ought to have a couple out by mornin'. Got one last one to check. Do you want to go with me or head up and I'll meet you?"

"Do you not want me to come with you?" Parker was really curious now. The young woman seemed uncomfortable with Parker coming with her to the last stop.

"It's just...well...ever seen Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer?" Billy looked awkward.

"You have a reindeer?" Parker was staring now.

"No. Remember the squirt gun with jam and the others?"

"The misfit toys?"

"Somethin' like that. We've got our own version of that here. Like with Skip, things happen so we've got a few misfits of our own. Some folks get nervous around 'em. Then again, they do that with some kinds of folks too." She inclined her head towards the door to the last shed. Billy crossed the open space, opened the doors, and waved Parker across behind her.

Parker was confused by the reference and even more-so when Billy had continued with the comparison. "I don't understand." She looked at the collection of animals sharing the space. All of them were sleeping, either on the floor or up on their roosts.

"No, you probably wouldn't with them down for the night. At least, with most of them." Billy's flashlight quickly scanned the inside of the shed and froze on one bird in particular. Parker had seen others like it running loose from a distance. Even the bright light didn't disturb the large goose. The simple fact it had its head under its wing was probably the reason. Its only wing. Where the matching appendage should have been, there was only a lumpy shape at an odd angle.

The blond quickly flicked her eyes to meet Billy's and the younger woman moved the light to another form in answer. The small white duck had both wings, but its bill was curled in strange ways.

"All of them." Parker said in understanding. This building was reserved for the malformed and maimed. When either nature or accident made life with the rest of their kind impossible, they were brought here, where being slow or awkward wasn't such an impairment. They all had their own problem to deal with and that evened the playing field.

"All of them. Skip would be in here if it was a real option. The cage would be an obstacle and, out loose, he'd get trampled. Odds would be on Juan or Jorge. He's happier in the nursery though anyhow." Parker made a face at the names, not knowing who Billy was talking about.

"The two Black Spanish turkeys over in the corner." The light again served as a pointer. They looked fine to Parker, but Billy could tell where her mind was going and beat her there. "They both have bad feet. They were fine when they came in a hatchery assortment, but their feet just got all gnarled up. The hen was fine. We tried splints and supplements. A, D, and E sometimes helps. Extra calcium. Nothin'. They get around, but they're slow and clumsy. Turkeys aren't exactly ballet dancers on their best days. They can't sit up on the roost, so some of the little guys go up there to stay out of the way and I put in those wood cubbies for the guys floor bound to take shelter in so they don't get stepped on. The group seems to have an understandin' and I do what I can, so I think they're happy. I'd like to fix a thing of water for the goose and duck, but I ain't worked out how to make it work for everyone. Accessibility versus safety. A ramp would be hard with one wing for balance. I've got a kiddie pool for them when I can supervise." The gentle, indulgent tone hardly seemed to match the hulking shape in the doorway, made even larger by rain gear and back-lit by the distant security lights and a stray lightning flash. "I'll come up with somethin', probably in the dead of night when the stupid insomnia kicks in and my head won't settle. I do a lot of my thinkin' then." Satisfied that the chicken houses were locked down for the night against intruders and weather, Billy led Parker back to the barn and was again greeted by impatient livestock.

"Good Lord, you'd think they was starvin'. I give you hay before I went out and you had grain this mornin' too. You guys know some of your kind don't get grain at all. You get it twice a day...and it shows. I mix feed every Monday for you lardlings, and, come Monday mornin', they'll be just enough in the barrels for breakfast." She shook her head in the way Sophie did when Eliot and Hardison bickered as she snatched up a battered bucket and pulled an equally worn scoop from it. Her voice was muffled as her head and arm disappeared down one barrel. "I manage in the kitchen and Home Ec. I'm just more used to recipes that turn out fifty pounds at a time and most of those I have scale up. Actually, all of them except the one I use for Big'en. Might have to switch Goldie over and then that won't be enough for all week." The bucket was full and she dipped a tiny bucket in another barrel, before heading for the manger.

Parker watched from her perch as Billy moved steadily down the row in the manger on the lowest level. Not once did she need to look down at her hands as she scooped out the right amount of feed for each animal. Full scoop apiece for Ajax and Diomedes, a pause to pick leaves out of the manes of the massive animals with gentle murmurs and playful pats, the separate container was Big'en's, three-fourths of a scoop each for Goldie and Marius, the Haflingers, Pippen and Meriadoc, split a scoop, a third for Apple, and each mini received a fourth with Vashti getting a little bigger share for her and the developing foal. Each of the horses had been accounted for. Each one had come in for the night.

Returning to the row of barrels, Billy used the little bucket to refill the rabbit's feeder. "You ain't likin' the weather much are ya, Dax. What's the big problem? The thunder? You're dry in here and wind should have to stay out there." She reached her hand in check that there wasn't a draft in the entry. The eastern facing door with ninety degree turn and a canvas drape kept even the sometimes bitter winter outside. She scooped the big gray rabbit up and held it under her chin for a time. "Cabin fever? You can't go out in your outside run in this. Dependin' on how long this lasts, you can always come out on threshin' floor with me for a while. Wind up Lighthorse by bein' out and give the kitties something to nosy. I thought I was gonna choke a-laughin' when Dutch nearly fell down one of the hay slots 'cause he kept backin' up and not lookin' where he was goin'." She settled the quiet animal back in the inside area of the hutch and opened a different barrel.

The now empty bucket had a different mix of feed loaded into it. After feeding Atlas and Hercules, the gigantic oxen, feeding the tiny Miniature Jersey and her half Mini Hereford heifer almost seemed an afterthought. But all four were petted and checked over.

The little bucket was dipped in another barrel and Billy ducked out one of the doors on the lowered level and scattered the contents outside. She rolled her eyes and offered a bemused smile at Parker on her way in. "Only the geese would be eat on the patio on a night like this. They can always find cover if they want it."

This time she retrieved the second bucket from the house and added some grain to it. This was poured into a pan on the other side of a Dutch door leading to a

box stall. "I know, baby. You'd rather be out in your little house, even if you had to stay in, but it's not in a good spot right now. I'd like to get the rest of the fence replaced before you go home. Besides, Big'en did some damage I haven't fixed yet. Remember?" Her words were replied to with little grunts. "Yes, you are a pretty girl. Prettiest little piggy on four feet. Fine, smart girl." A black head and two black legs ending in white feet popped up over the edge and Billy dutifully scratched and petted her for several minutes. "Okay, Babs. When the weather clears, I'll see what I need to do to extend the wall out far enough that you can move back to Maison Babbette. I'll have to do some remodeling, too. Hey, is the sky blue?" The black head moved eagerly up and down. "Is the grass purple?" This time it shook back and forth. Only someone as observant as Parker would have noticed the minute finger movement that corresponded with the head movement. Billy was feeding her the answers and, for her trick, she accepted a graham cracker in return. The pig got down and Billy brought the bucket back.

"I didn't know you had a pig or that they could do tricks." Parker commented when Billy moved the two buckets she'd brought with her back near the door.

"Yep. A potbelly. Pigs are smart. About like a dog really. Normally, you'd have seen her. You know that little building out back? That's her house. Big'en ran into the side of it and tore up one of the fence panels, so I had to bring her in here. Another job for the list." She sighed and turned back to the row of barrels.

Another refill, a different mix, and, this time, she went to the manger in the sheepfold, the divider leading to it build specifically to permit the narrow sheep and goats, along with their guardian, passage, but keep anything wider like the horses and cows out, the big ones anyway. Boots had a pile to himself, but the rest was spread out in a line along the stanchions for the communal herd. The young woman then sat the bucket down, flipped on the overhead light for the sheep fold, and climbed up on a cross-brace to look out at the flock.

"Tilly, Lucretia, Sabado, Domingo...that's the goats...Bosco, Dahlia, Cheddar, Chowder, Daisy, Daffodil, Violet, Kale, Rose, Flounder, Ir- Pansy, Iris, Lily..." She froze as her finger reached the end of the row and her head whipped back to the start and she quickly counted again. She got down, grabbed the bucket, and came back to peer out at the larger stock. Parker was confused when Billy dropped the bucket and scoop next to the feed barrels and ducked out the back way. "Sheepy! Sheepy, sheepy, sheeeee-py!" She was gone a several minutes and the thief nearly went to look for her, when she came in the front, nudging a sheep along with her knees towards food and flock. When the ewe caught sight of the rest eating, she broke into a run and wiggled her way into the line.

Billy silently stalked back into the main area and started grabbing things off the wall. One of them was the largest flashlight Parker had ever seen. It was chrome with a leather shoulder strap and when Billy opened it to put batteries in, it took ten D cells to fill. Slipping the strap over her shoulder, she laced her boots up tight, made sure her hood was tied and her coat zipped, before stuffing two small blanket looking things under the back of her jacket and taking off towards the big sliding door. Parker had to run to catch up.

"Where are you going now?" The blonde pulled her hood up against the driving rain and was nearly knocked over by Lighthorse charging out behind his owner.

"Thistle was eatin' the potato peelin' Ma brought out from fixin' supper, but Marigold and Twinkie ain't here. Not sure where she is, but the boy will be with his mama. You can go back. Lead the way, Colonel Lee. Where's Mari and her lamb? Sheeeee-py!" The storm drowned out the call that would normally travel for miles. Billy slid the large outer door shut, closing the animals in and the storm out.

The dog looked up at her for a moment and then reared up against the building to sniff the air. When he got down, he took off down the lane, glancing once over his shoulder to make sure they followed. The two women had to keep up a fast walk to stay with the dog as he took them through the open pastures and back to the woods.

"Who's Colonel Lee? I thought he was Lighthorse?" Parker had to yell to be heard over the rain, wind, thunder, and, now, the branches clashing overhead.

"Shee-py! That's his right name. Well, part of it. He's registered with the big workin' Bordie club. When we got him, we weren't sure if we were gonna bother to file his papers or not. Shee-py! I had trouble decidin' what to call him regular, so, one night,... Shee-py!" They ducked between two spruce trees and back into the open grass. "... I looked at his registration slip. His mama, Connie, was really named Colonial Maiden and his daddy was named Bold Cavalier. I happened to glance up at a woodcut of old James on the wall and I knew what to call him then, both ways. Sheepy, sheepy, sheepy! Shee-py!" The dog was waiting on the far side of the field at the tree line for them.

"I don't get it." Parker looked sideways and had to force her hood back up.

"Shee-py! Know what a cavalier is?" The young woman yelled back. Parker shook her head. "A horseman, a horse soldier, a cavalryman. Know where old James was assigned in the army when we fought the redcoats? He was a light cavalryman for Virginia, a dragoon under Henry Lee. So that's what I named the dog: Colonel Lee's Dashin' Dragoon." She nodded at the dog as he took off into the woods. "And we call the dog the same thing they called Henry Lee- Lighthorse, as in Lighthorse Harry. Shee-py!"

A bark sounded in the distance, a low baa and higher bleat right behind, and the light moved to reveal not only the pacing form of the sheep dog, but the hunched outlines of his two lost sheep. Billy laughed. "When there's a job to be done, send in the cavalry."

By the time the two had reached the animals, Lighthorse was trying to gather them up to take them to the barn, easily anticipating his next command, but the ewe wasn't cooperating and the lamb wasn't getting up.

"Stay back a bit. You never know how an old ewe will take to a stranger, especially around her little one. Here hold the light." She passed off the two foot long beacon and made her way down into the gully. "You bring him here to eat on the brambles, huh? You do have a fondness for all things plant and prickly. Why didn't you come up when it got bad? It ain't good to be under big trees when it storms, what with the zappin' and a-squishin'." She knelt next the lamb, patting his mother and pushing her aside. "What's the matter?" She petted him gently, feeling for any sign of injury. Looking down a moment, she then looked back up the slope at the fence. "My cousin is dead." She stated matter-of-factly.

"What? How do you know? What happened to him?" Parker was easing in closer.

"Nothin' happened...yet. I'm gonna kill him is what's gonna happen. Ma paid him put up new fence a couple years back when he was laid off and huntin' any work. He was supposed to take the old stretch to the junkyard. He lied." She gestured sharply at the lamb's back leg. Parker adjusted the light and gasped.

The bloody limb was tangled in a piece of old fencing. The struggle to free himself had either exhausted him or it hurt him enough that he was laying in the mud rather than standing. When the flock had come in, his mother had remained with her only lamb.

"Worthless moron, he dumped it here in the damn gully instead of doin' what he was told to do, specifically so these sorts of things don't happen!" She was roaring louder than the storm thundering outside the relative shelter of the cluster of evergreens. "You lay still. This ain't my first rodeo."

She pulled one of the white things out from under her coat and unfolded it onto the ground, lifting Twinkie up and onto it, before draping the rest over him for shelter. It took the blond a moment to realize that it was a plastic feed sack that had been opened up into a large sheet of sailcloth like material.

"Never leave home without it." Billy waved a strange looking tool with orange handles in the light. "Fencing tool. All in one, cut, stretch, put in or pull staples..." She crouched forward and started clipping the rusted wire away from the leg, carefully unwinding and untangling by the glow of a flashlight in the pouring rain. One last snip had him free, but he wasn't inclined to try standing on it. Billy sighed heavily. "He's gonna need this cleaned up and wrapped." She stuffed the tool back in her pocket, made sure the sack was wrapped securely around the already soaked lamb, and hoisted him up across her shoulders in the classic shepherd's carry. She grunted as she settled him in place. "Take us back, boy."

The dog perked up and came along side the old sheep to take her to the barn. The dog was stopped by a slight choking sound from Billy as she stood. "Pa..Pa..Parker, come here and come close. I need you to very, very carefully stand on the wire on either side of my left foot."

"Why?" Parker asked, but did as she was told.

"Because, I need my right one for balance and it's the only way I know to hold the wire in place while I jerk my foot off and away." Billy's voice was still a little strained as she pulled her foot straight up and stepped away.

"Why'd you do that?" Parker asked, but seeing the reddish tinge to the surrounding puddle of water, she knew before she was told.

"Only way to get the wire out of my foot." Billy took a few deep breaths and gamely started out of the woods. "Now, I know I'm gonna kill him." The rain picked up harder still and the group hurried for the nearest shelter.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Nate stretched as he became fully awake. Then, he winced. Being shot wasn't something you got over in a few days and, since Sterling was being his usual self, Nate hadn't been getting much pharmaceutical relief from the wound, the surgery, or the detox. Sleeping and keeping his mind off it were all he could do. If it helped someone and made Sterling paranoid and frustrated, so much the better. Besting Sterling in these circumstances would go a long way towards making him feel better.

At least, he wasn't bored. He'd gotten a copy of the paper from one of the guards and thought he was going to pop a stitch when Sterling had found it. He'd laughed until it hurt, not a hard thing to do at the moment, as his old friend had first been convinced it had been smuggled in as a way of passing him a message and had spent over an hour searching for it. Then, the Interpol agent decided Nate was using it to slip a message out and had set fire to it in the bathroom sink. That had set the fire alarm off, bringing rebukes from the nurses and orderly who'd rushed in with fire extinguishers.

He wanted to eat his meal and pretend to settle in for the night, so he could see what Hardison had sent him. He was intrigued. This was one of the more interesting situations they'd had. It was high stakes and wide reaching and the constraints were almost as tight as the last job they'd pulled off. There had been five of them with better equipment and less of a need to keep their heads down, plus Sophie was there, holding open their escape hatch when they'd needed it most.

He reached for the tray table and winced again.

"Do try to be careful, Nate. If you insist on being my sole witness on this case, I'd prefer you'd stay in one piece long enough to be cross-examined." Sterling was sitting in a guest chair, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

Nate knew better. The other man had showered and changed his shirt and tie, but the suit was the one he'd worn the day before. He either hadn't had a chance to get his suits to the cleaner or hadn't gotten there to get them. What was more telling: he hadn't sent someone else to do it either and he surely had to have thought about it at some point. He didn't have the manpower. Perfect, if I can keep him running in circles and driving everyone under him ragged, he'll have to give up on tracking everyone else down.

"I couldn't agree more. If I can't reach for a tray, rappelling out the window is out of the question." He wasn't a fool. It was too obvious and Sterling knew it, but if he could compel him to spread out his resources even thinner in any way, he would. Every dime or man hour he spent keeping Nate his prisoner was one that couldn't be spent on his search.

Since the team had shown that they could adapt and change, Sterling was even less capable of predicting them then before. He'd never been able to get completely in front of them before and now they had new skills, experiences, and motivations. He couldn't be sure what combination he'd have to deal with either. They appeared to have gone their separate ways, but how long would it last? Were they simply laying low until this settled down, spreading out to minimize their chance of capture and insuring that someone remained free to help Nate and anyone else he caught? Was this the end? Sterling had far more questions than answers and he was running out of what he needed to find them.

"We both know that's not how it will go down. As much as Parker would love the challenge, it's far too risky. Ms. Devereaux seems rather fond of her and the boy is head over heels, or he thinks he is." Sterling gave the tray table a shove with his foot.

Nate shoved it back. "I'm not hungry." He didn't fail to notice that Sterling had completely discounted Eliot's feelings in regard to Parker's safety. Sterling had never been much of a team player. Sometimes, Nate wondered if that was why group dynamics weren't his strong suit. That would be another point in the team's favor. They were together and working. It seemed that Sterling would have given those the lowest odds in his book.

A return push. "Eat it. I'll not have some lawyer say I violated your rights somehow and get you released. I can't decide if you genuinely expect them to get you out of here or if that's what you want me to think. What is it you think you know or has the alcohol really destroyed your sense?" The tray table was a prop. It was the mind game the two men kept score on.

Nate actually took the coffee off and removed the lid this time. He wasn't actually interested in food, but he didn't want the staff annoying him about it. He could draw this out and make Sterling work for it. "Is this like the riddle where you get to ask one question to one of two men? One lies and one tells the truth, but you don't know which. You have to ask yourself a lot of questions just to ask one of someone else. Which one of us is lying and which one's telling the truth? I don't think we even know anymore. It's always easier to lie to someone else when you can't even be honest with yourself. I'm a drunk and a thief. Am I still lying to myself? Maybe. Am I lying to you? If I tell you what I think is true, but I'm lying to myself, is it still a lie?" He pushed the table away again, but took a sip of the coffee.

"Riddles within riddles; questions within questions. You should have been a priest. Or a lawyer. Either one argues right and wrong for a living." The table came back and Nate peeked under the cover. Tomato soup and cottage cheese. The cooks were certainly on their way to a Michelin star. It was a little more filling than what he had been getting, though. They must have either wanted to go easy on his stomach in case there was an emergency or were trying to ease the detox nausea. He picked up the bowl and took a few sips. It was cold, but he doubted it had been much better warm. He put it back, covered it, and pushed it away.

Sterling's phone interrupted their tete-a-tete and the other man slipped outside to answer it. As soon as Nate was sure he wouldn't be seen, he eased the tray back and drained the soup and side as fast as he could. He would eat, but he wouldn't do it just because Sterling had ordered him to. No, he'd sip his coffee and play the battle of the wills. This way was more fun. Jim wouldn't know if he won, because the meal had been eaten, or lost, because he'd argued over an empty tray. Nate would have him off his game, if only briefly, and it would be so easy to do. He made sure the table was exactly as it had been and settled back into the pillows.

Sterling came back quicker than he'd expected, but so much the better. He seemed a little flustered. Had something gone wrong? Hardison would know. He also would be eager to share. That little boy, eager-to-please or be praised streak was one of the things that made you smile (or annoyed you to death if you were Eliot). Nate sipped at his coffee like he didn't have a care in the world.

The Interpol agent shoved the bedside table back at him as he returned to his seat. The two studied one another.

"Problems, Jim?" Nate took another sip and adjusted the controls on the bed.

"None of your concern." Sterling's eyes drifted slightly downward towards his phone before he caught himself. He was riled. Now to keep nudging until he lost his balance. Nate pushed the tray table back with just enough force to actually bump the other man's leg.

Sterling took a deep breath and then another. He kicked it harder than he needed to return it to Nate. The small outburst and the fact he didn't realize the bowl was empty by the lack of splash was enough to confirm that he really wasn't fully present. Nate had to work very hard to school his features. He knew he was winning here in this room and the team was winning out there.

Nate finished his coffee at a leisurely pace, replaced the lid, set it back by the tray, and waited. When Sterling picked up his phone for a check-in, Nate gave him just a fraction of a second before he pushed the tray and bumped him again. That was just enough.

Sterling pushed out of the chair and shoved the tray table. "Just eat the damn meal, Ford." A guard from the hall came in at the raised voices and several nurses were just behind him. Nate maneuvered the table slightly to the side. "I honestly don't know you anymore. Look at yourself. You're a drunk and a common criminal. Even you see that. I'm not sure which is more pathetic. The drinking I can overlook, given the circumstances, but you lowered yourself to their level. You actually have some sort of loyalty to them. You know what they've done. You know what they've made you do. You are in denial. They aren't coming for you. They aren't getting away. So just face facts and eat your damn meal!" He slammed his hands down on the table.

The two nurses pushed between the two men. One directed her attention to Nate's vital signs; the other started to push Sterling backwards. "Sir. Sir! You need to calm down. I will not have you disturbing the patients."

"Mr. Ford, I can warm up your tray if you'd like or find something else..." The junior nurse lifted the lid from the tray and froze.

The head nurse looked over at the empty tray and Sterling leaned around her to see. All eyes focused on the man in the bed and he simply shrugged.

The Interpol agent growled and stormed out. Nate laughed as much as he dared. Jim had been tripped up so easily that he was shaken. He was losing in here and on the hunt. He would doubt everything, check everything repeatedly, and lose more and more time. That was what the team needed most. They could do anything, if they had enough time. Napoleon himself said he could always make up lost ground, but never lost time. Now to wait until things cooled down so he could check in. Good generals win battles; great ones win wars.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

It was such a simple pleasure really. An evening spent on a porch swing, wrapped in a blanket, reading to the sound of the rain on a metal roof would relax anyone, if only a little. It would probably be more relaxing if she were reading a play or biography instead of personal information on a corrupt politician in a safe house. It was, however, worth noting should she decide to expand the veranda on that little property in the South Seas.

The wind was really picking up, but the solid little cottage blocked what made it through the carefully placed evergreens. Sophie's only concern was whether she wanted another cup of tea. Eliot had been out earlier to the wood pile. The damp air and the sheltering tree branches would completely hide any trace of the fire he built in the fireplace. The dry heat of the wood fire would drive out any dampness inside. It would be a cozy night indeed.

Working from what Hardison had been able to get her so far, she thought she had the broad strokes of how to pull off what they needed. The hacker admitted that the local government had done a pretty decent job protecting individual information from being hacked. They kept the most recent confidential files on dedicated and hard-line networks that would require physical access. Anything not a matter of public record was kept there for fifty years. Most of what they had on open cases had been shared with the State police, who actually had less security.

Any data that needed to be transported between the various networks, like between a town marshal and the county clerk was transported by sheriff's deputy on a flash drive as he went out on patrol or came in and was signed for as it changed hands. Hardison had studied all the documents he might have to make or acquire and was a little confused by the notes added under the sections for getting a copy of a birth, marriage, or death certificate. The potential patron was instructed to know weight, officiant, or attending physician respectively. They were going to have to tap into each one of those isolated networks separately to be kept fully updated on the goings on.

A recent tradition instituted by the county government was a public ceremony on the first Friday after the reopening of the courthouse after New Year's in which the County Recorder and other representatives of the county and local record organizations presented a stack of CD-ROMs holding data from fifty years ago and the actual paper volumes from seventy-five years ago to the head of the County Historical/Genealogical Society/Museum and Archive. The group had bought the old high school and had done quite well. A group of area Elders and chosen citizens formed the board and had arranged for certain parts of the building to be rented out as an extra source of income. The old gym was a practice area for local teams and individual memberships of twenty dollars a year for unlimited access made for a very actively used area. Some old classrooms were set aside for classes or meetings. The cafeteria was used for events. Hardison had praised the website for it, because, unlike a lot of these places, you could reserve a space or place a hold on a book or file through it. He'd laughed a few moments later and it took a good ninety seconds to figure out the joke. He pointed to a company logo that they'd all recognized to some degree. The twin, tipping C's of the Carlisle family farm was obvious. It was emblazoned on gates, buildings, equipment, even Billy's everyday work coat. The lightning bolt took a second longer. The angled lines were a pair of stylized, conjoined W's. Only one Carlisle in the last hundred years had W. W. as their personal initials and she was far more likely to use them than what they stood for. They'd stumbled on another of Billy's customers. It seems that Billy had made good very use of the servers that had been donated to the group. The four wouldn't have expected any less. There was no such thing as a second class job to the girl. The well organized and technically advanced archive didn't help them on more current matters, but any deep history they could have in seconds. They were enjoying bits that Hardison was pulling out for amusement though.

They also needed to target Haywood specifically. He owned three properties. The primary residence was a very visible house in the closest thing this area had to a gated community. It wasn't extravagant, but is screamed successful. His children had friends over, birthday parties, and frequent block parties were hosted there as well. All the usual tactics of the ambitious politician.

There was also an office in the old downtown area where he kept his campaign office and still practiced some law. Once a month, he held an open house and (almost) free legal clinic where he'd look over a lease or will for a token fee of one dollar. It made her skin crawl. While it seemed like he was doing a community service, he also could legally snoop into people's lives. It wasn't even his idea. Another law firm started doing it six months before he had.

Hardison had found a story in the paper when he'd been doing background on everyone involved in the suspect legal cases. Zimmer and McGovern did the same thing every Saturday from eight til noon. Not every one of those was open to everyone though. One was geared for local non-profits and one was held at what passed for a homeless shelter where they assisted people referred to them by caseworkers. It had been the brain child of the junior lawyer they'd taken on. The accompanying news story had made Sophie smile a little and think of all the stories of the high ideals of noble aristocratic families she'd heard over the years.

"The local law firm of Zimmer, McGovern, and Assoc. held the first of what they hope will become regular legal open houses. For a token fee, the three accredited attorneys looked at leases, wills, contracts, etc. and offered their advice. Their notary was available to help file documents. "Senior partner Charles Zimmer was asked about the origins for the idea and had this to say, 'A lot of people were surprised by the idea. I was. Mark (McGovern) was. Tim Cortland has taken on a huge caseload since he came aboard and all three of us are still busy. He's the new guy so the routine stuff goes to him. One day, he came in from his third lease dispute of the week and said, 'It wasn't a good contract. If I'd looked at it beforehand, I'd have made a few changes and this wouldn't have happened. None of these had good agreements. I should just hang out a sign saying: 'Legal advice- One Dollar'. I could prevent some of these cases.' I pointed out to him that we'd be out out of work. Then he said something that really made me think. 'Vaccine clinics haven't put doctors out of business.' I realized he's right. They prevent some people from getting sick from some things and that helps everyone. A person stays healthy. A sick person gets treated sooner by a doctor who isn't overworked. The doctor has more time for the others patients he would have had anyway. Families, friends, co-workers all benefit too. We tossed the idea around and, finally, we went for it.

"'We've seen a lot of leases and wills, of course, but we also helped a food bank apply for a grant, explained to a young couple how to set up a small business, and directed a senior citizen targeted by mail fraud to the proper authorities. I'd like to think we've really helped everyone here today. Some of these people won't have cases down the road that would just cost both parties and the tax payers money and clog up the courts. A few people called and asked when the next one would be already. We'll be here next Sat. morning, minus Mark, who has a family commitment.'..." The newspaper had continued on and had, inevitably it seemed, had mentioned his grandmother "was a daughter of Alvin Carlisle, the younger brother of Malcolm Carlisle, a man and family well-known in this area."

Of course, if a truly honest and generous lawyer existed, he would descend from a family that would require its members adhere to a code of honor that was strictly ingrained into and enforced by the family as a whole. They had run-ins with the law for things like traffic violation, disturbing the peace, brawls, etc., but there wasn't "much meanness" in them as locals would say. On the contrary, judging from bits Hardison had pulled from the papers and other local sources on the family in the archive and had shared as a source of entertainment, they policed themselves and intervened when they saw fit.

One rather public incident forty years ago had made the front page of several papers. A well known drunk who beat his wife and, sometimes, his son had had the misfortune of letting it spill outside into his backyard one evening, as Egan Carlisle had be escorting his wife to the car after a Ladies' Aid meeting that had run late. The neighbors had been somewhat "unaware of the argument", but they all seemed to witness what happened when the husband had been choking his wife on their sidewalk and knocked his son aside when the small boy had tried to help his mother. Egan had simply picked the man bodily from the ground, using his hair and belt as hand holds, slammed his face into the fence to knock the fight out of him, and then had proceeded to bend him over the fence and whip him with his belt, as his wife tended to the woman and child. He'd had the two pack and took them home with him. A divorce was soon coming and the drunk had left town, most everything he'd owned signed over to his ex-wife. While a woman and small boy had been easy to cow, Egan had been another story. Even at fifty, he'd been an imposing figure, six and a half feet tall and three hundred well used pounds of still mostly muscle.

Granny Carlisle, as it seemed the whole area called her, had her own moments when she'd stopped into the corner grocery for a can of baking powder on her way home from taking her granddaughter to Kindergarten for holiday pies and had ended up sending an armed robber to the emergency room. The young man had paid little attention to a seventy-three year old, great-grandmother of seven, but he could attest that if time had dulled the former southpaw softball pitcher's fastball any, he had the deepest respect for the women who'd faced her at the plate. The can of corn had sent him, unconscious, to the floor with a fractured skull and a gash requiring nearly two dozen stitches. A can of Clabber Girl had been given to her by the family who owned the store every Christmas since.

Feats of strength, temper, intelligence, and kindness made the extended family frequent news fodder. Annie had found her way into it twice for altercations that led back to Billy. The first time, the father of a schoolyard bully had proved no better than his son and had slapped Annie when she'd confronted him on his parenting in the school lobby. A one-two combination of steel toes into groin and kneecap and a few knees to the face had left him unable to do more than lay there while Annie had publicly spanked the boy. With a quiet offer of repeating the incident anytime they felt up to it, she'd scooped up her still crying seven year old and carried her out to the car. It had been a one time performance and the shame of being beaten by a woman had kept charges from being filed no matter how aware the community was. The second one had had a public outpouring...in Annie's favor.

The story's headline was "Bizarre Accident Leads to ER Altercation". It seems as soon as the car door was slammed on Billy's wrist by Kuluk, the Mastiff, Annie had known it was broken, so she'd run in to tell her mother to let the family doctor know what happened and then came back and drove Billy to the ER. Then, they waited, and waited. The ER was packed with all sorts of minor things and after one patient that came in laughing on a cell went back before the wrist that had already swollen tight in the sleeve, Annie'd had enough. The impact resistant clear barrier had made the triage nurse brave, and a little mouthy. Annie had simply drawn back and put her gloved fist through the wall beside the window and took the woman by the throat. She released her just as quickly, because Doctor Hansen had arrived as soon as he'd gotten the message, taken a look at the arm, and was verbally castigating the entire staff for leaving an eighth grader with a major fracture in a waiting room for two hours, just because she was a walk in. Annie had paid for the wall. The nurse was fired and procedure re-evaluated as an apology. The judge had heard what happened to Billy, found out that the actions of the ER staff had previously contributed to the failed reattachment of Josey's fingers, and had thrown out the case. Annie's daughters sitting side by side, one with a noticeably maimed right hand and the other with a cast from fingertip to mid-bicep, made it clear that the situation had needed to be taken far more seriously by the ER personnel than it had been.

Sophie looked up when the back door opened. Eliot came carrying a small wooden tray with a cup of tea and a stack of papers.

She took the tray graciously, exchanging it for the empty cup. Inhaling the aroma of the cup, she inclined her head at the papers beside it. "Is the tea a bribe or consolation for what's in those?"

"Both. Neither. Hardison and me were tryin' to sort out the exact way this whole thing was bein' run and we think that Haywood's cut is being laundered though his campaign funds. He's trying to come up with list of good candidates for what we're lookin' for in properties, so I said I'd look at the list of contributors and see if anything sticks out. I brought you a copy and there's one in there for Parker whenever she gets back from wherever she's at." He sat down on one of the chairs.

"I wouldn't be too worried, Elliot. She's a survivor. If anyone can understand that, it's you. Having a friend her own age is probably good for her. Especially, one who knows what she is. Besides, neither of those two are social butterflies and they seem to enjoy one another's company. Are we really to begrudge them that? They seem to be a good influence on one another." Sophie smiled at him in reassurance.

"I guess you're right. I saw Parker readin' something other than comics and safe manuals earlier." The quiet man chuckled a little.

She laughed with him. "Dickens, no less. Oliver Twist isn't a bad choice for Parker really, even a junior reader edition with illustrations. Well, if anyone is qualified to direct Parker's reading habits, it would be Billy. I've known literature professors that were less well read and Billy has a way of meeting people on their level, regardless of who it is."

Eliot nodded. It was hard to spend any time at all with their host without noticing the omnipresent book that seemed to change daily. Biographies, history, poetry, novels, old, new, obscure, bestseller, in English and otherwise, all of them seemed to circulate through the girl's field of vision at a prodigious rate.

"We both know Parker isn't going to get caught, so I don't see anything to worry about."

Eliot nodded, stood from the chair, and disappeared back inside, taking the empty mug with him.

Well the campaign contributors would be a nice change of pace and she could probably discern some of his more important social partners and backers from her research. That was the sort of thing that could prove useful. She spread out the pages as best as she could. The wind was starting to pick up and a brief flash of light flooded one eye briefly as the rain came down harder.

Within twenty minutes, she had a list of people she wanted a little more background on, but she hesitated to go in and add more to Hardison's workload. Perhaps if he could spare a computer, she could do some groundwork herself. She could screen some more of the captured conversations as well. That would take some of the load off the young man who seemed to be doing everything at the moment. He might even show her a trick or two. He seemed to enjoy teaching his craft. Well, didn't they all. It proved that they had some value and that what they did wasn't as easy as it seemed. Nothing got you into an expert's good graces faster than being an eager student. First, though she was going to just sit back and listen to the rain and enjoy her tea. Peace and quiet wasn't always easy to find in their line of work, best to enjoy it while she could.

She wasn't exactly aware how long passed, but her tea was gone and her mind clear when she started to rise from the swing and go in. She was gathering her things when she heard a noise almost lost in the wind and caught another flash of light from the trees. It was a flashlight, intensely bright, but still man-made and man-packed. It was drawing closer and made it impossible to make out any shapes. She turned her head away, but turned back when it blinked out. Two tall shapes, one much bigger than the other, and two lower to the ground were swallowed up by the inside of the barn, guided by the outside lights mounted over the doors. She hadn't made out much detail, but one of the smaller shapes carried the high contrast markings his kind had carried for generations. It was Lighthorse, the collie, meaning the other two were probably Billy and Parker. What on Earth were they doing out here in this?

She hurried to gather her things and get inside to give the two men a heads up.

"I don't know what's going on, but I'm fairly certain Parker and Billy just ducked into the barn out here."

She sat her cup in the sink and immediately put the kettle on for hot water. Neither of the women were big on coffee, but there was some hot chocolate in the cupboard and a warm mug of it would be good for them. Hardison started hiding things, both on his screens and the printouts around him. Eliot growled and grabbed a few towels and blankets out of the wardrobe. He seemed poised to go see what was going on, but it came to him. The door swung open and Parker held it as Billy came in, a bundle across her shoulders.

"What in heaven are you two doing out in this?" Sophie looked at the two young women aghast.

"We didn't exactly plan on it. I came up short a couple sheep at feedin' time and went lookin' for 'em and this one came with me. They were closer to here than the house, so I brought the little one in here to see to his leg and we set up his mama and Lighthorse in the barn."

Billy was kneeling on the kitchen floor, unwrapping the wet and wiggling lamb, and taking advantage of the bright light to assess the damage. "Shhh...boy. I know you don't like it, but I think it should be okay. Nothin' looks deep enough to need stitches, but it's been too long for that to be a good option anyway. I just need to clean this up, maybe give you a bit of a trim to keep your wool from stickin' and wrap this, and you can go back to Mari. That sound good?" The young woman alternated between shucking off her soaked coat and hat and double checking the leg.

Parker had already ducked into the small bathroom with clean, dry clothes, leaving the other three to stand by and watch. Sophie contented herself with hanging up the wet clothes to dry. Hardison was buried in new data to deal with and had an excuse to avoid all eye contact with the blood on the floor. He would probably be grateful, if she slipped him her list. Eliot, however, joined Billy on the floor.

"Need a hand or is havin' a stranger this close gonna make it worse?" He spread out first aid supplies as she pulled them from the seemingly bottomless vest pockets.

Billy shook her head as she slipped off her wet rain pants, fighting them briefly as they cleared her shoes. She shifted to a dry spot, spread a towel that had seen better days in her lap, and pulled him up into it. She tucked his good legs under her own and held him gently, but securely. "He's a semi-bum. His only concern about people is do they have food or will he have to settle for pettin'." She opened the scissors on her Swiss Army knife and started trimming wool away from the gashes left by the wire.

Eliot grabbed a cotton ball and started dabbing peroxide on one cut. "If I remember right, a bum lamb is one that either lost its mama or she won't take it and it has to bum milk from the other ewes to get by. Never heard of a semi-bum."

"They don't exist in many places. Most times a ewe gets too old or just doesn't produce and she gets sent to market. The little one either gets taken away to be raised closer to the house or sold as a bottle baby. Marigold hasn't had twins in years and it's been a few years since she's had a lamb at all. As it was, she had him later in the year after everyone else had raised theirs up a good bit. She didn't have enough milk for him. There wasn't really any left of the others to sneak a share of, so he got bottles through the day to makes ends meet, but he stayed with his mama. He seems to have done alright on it." She patted his side before she picked up a cotton ball and started dabbing at the wounds herself.

"How did this even happen? Somehow I don't see you leavin' something layin' around for this kinda thing to happen." Eliot steadied the leg as she started working on the underside. As old as the farm was and the size of it to not be a commercial operation, it still looked like something out of a magazine. Some things needed work or tended to, but they weren't falling down or overgrown. Anyone with eyes saw the work put into and the pride taken from it.

"We didn't. The idiot cousin that fixed fence for us when he was out of work did. Ma paid him an extra twenty to haul the old fence to the scrap yard and it looks like he left it in the gully on the backside of the pasture instead. I'm gonna knock the hell out of him tomorrow and leave him to Ma and probably Gran and his ma before it's all over. He'll wish he'd done it right before they get done. Now for the not so fun part." Billy opened a tin of salve and Sophie could see Eliot's eyes start to water as Billy brushed it on. It burned and the lamb started bleating and squirming, but she was quick and he settled after a minute, allowing her to cover it in gauze and wrap it securely.

"I guess you wanna go back to Mari, huh? Go be with your mama." Billy scratched and patted the woolly lamb, releasing her hold on him, and he pulled himself up some so he leaned against her. She moved to stand up, but Eliot scooped him up instead.

"I just need to take him out to the barn, right?" The hitter shifted his burden so the small form was held close and sheltered by his upper body.

"Uh, yeah. I closed the doors some to keep the wind out, but I've got her in a pen with some hay and water. I'd just put him on the straw and leave him to her. Milk and hay will do wonders."

Billy started clearing up the mess on the floor, tossed the garbage, gathered some items into a plastic bag, washed her hands, settled on the couch next to Sophie and started to slip off her shoe.

"You must want out of those wet things. I could hear the water slosh about when you came in." The grifter gestured at the coat, pants, and hat hanging up to dry.

Her young friend grimaced at her as she slipped the shoe off. "It's not water."

Before the Brit could ask, she saw the gray sock stained red on the bottom and covered her mouth in surprise.

"Twink ain't the only one that had a run in with the damn fence. Luke figured that if he threw the fence in the gully full of briars, no one would ever know. He didn't take into account that a flock of sheep is more efficient than the combined grounds crews of every golf course on Earth. They'll eat anything- cactus, briars, thistle, fiberboard. They'd rather have brush than grass and they'll eat it down to dirt or as high up as they can reach." She paused to peel off her sock, taking a fortifying breath.

"A horse will leave grass if there are weeds to poke him in the nose and a cow has to have enough green to be able to wrap their tongue around it since they ain't got teeth to grip it with, so they swallow junk sometimes. You have sheep in with either, or both, and they take care of the weeds for the horses and, since they trim around the edges, you usually see bits of wire and pick them up before a cow can swallow it. When Ma had Luke replace the fence, she knew the sheep would clean up the lot again and it was a thicket just a few years ago. A tornado took out a bunch of trees and they got the fence and with nothing to keep it down, the plants took over. Once we had the fence, the sheep took the weeds and the horses and cows ate the grass. The sheep even eat through the fence as far as they can reach on the other side. I cut the scrub trees that sprouted. The gully is the last haven of overgrowth and the sheep have been goin' at it hard the last couple years. I saw a couple old multi-flora briars that was dead. The baabaa woolies had stripped 'em of the green to the point just the woody dead is left. Need to cut it off at the ground and burn them. Let the guys get in there and have a go at the rest of that mess. But that fence is gettin' picked up first." She had turned her foot up and was studying the small, but deep hole in the bottom that was seeping slightly still. "Every last bit of it, I'm gonna have him on his damn knees with a magnet."

"You need to soak that." Eliot's voice was a growl behind them as he peered at the puncture over their shoulders.

"Umm, hmm. I do." She sighed.

The man had already moved to fill a bucket with clean, hot water. He added some salt to the mix.

"A little dish soap too." Billy suggested from the couch.

"Not the first time you've done this, is it?" Sophie patted the young woman's thigh.

"Nope." She sighed and shook her head sadly, the wet boot in her lap. "Life is a full contact sport. Soak it. Pack it. Wrap it. Be easy on it. See if I'm due for a tetanus booster, I don't think so, but we've got it around here, so you can't be too careful. Nope, not the first time. Fifteen years too late for that milestone. I'll make a call to Doc to be sure, but I'm due to see him Monday anyhow. I've got a checkup scheduled and Chi's got one with Doc's brother the vet. He's growin' so fast, they didn't put a long-term cast on his leg. He'll need it adjusted again. I'll see what he thinks about Twink, but I'm pretty sure he's good. He's up on his shots and it should be pretty clean."

Eliot placed the bucket on the floor and the young woman eased her foot into it carefully. After a few minutes, she removed it and looked at it again. "It does good work. Salt and dish soap is just what the doctor ordered, literally. The hand specialist that worked on Sis told Ma that, but I add just one more ingredient." She produced a small bottle from a cargo pocket and poured some directly on her foot and added a splash more to the water.

"What was that?" Sophie winced and recoiled from it.

"Listerine. The original formula. Ma can't stand it, but I've had a relationship for years." She smiled through the burning in her foot. "A kid with chronic strep, sinus and ear infections' best friend. Doc Hanson's daddy told Pa to gargle with it when he took a cancer off his lip. Burns when it works though, but once it stops...germs are dead and a lot of the soreness is gone., Cuts, bruises, sun burn, poison ivy, I've found many uses. The stuff was designed to sterilize surgical tools originally." The little bottle slipped back into her pocket and she put her foot back in the water.

Sophie nodded casually. She didn't ask for details about what had happened to Josey Carlisle's fingers. It had rated an article in the paper. The girl had been five and told her grandmother she was going out to play and, though warmed not to bother her grandfather, she broke her promise and went looking for him. She found the running feed mixer and got her hand too close to it. It cost her part of three fingers. Billy brought it up every time her sister showed poor judgment.

Billy swished her foot a little as she inspected the ruined shoe. She finally shrugged and dropped it on the floor, and started fishing out the first aid supplies needed to bind up her foot from her pockets. Satisfied by what she had available, she pulled a book out and got comfortable with "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo", stretching back and settling into the cushions for a few minutes. She was just waiting for the water to cool and, hopefully, for the weather to ease before binding it up and heading back to the house...at a much slower pace with a leaking shoe.

Sophie smiled silently at the way the other woman smiled slightly as her hands rested much higher when she propped them on her belly to read then they once had. The older woman found it remarkable that the Billy could just ignore the world so totally, but it pained her at the same time. It was a tell-tale sign of a singular existence. She'd had gotten so comfortable in her solitude, she no longer expected anything more than to simply be left alone, even in a small cottage with four other people. The endless chain of small books kept in her inner vest pocket left no doubt. She came prepared for it.

The older woman gently rested a hand on Billy's leg again. "You had a doctor's visit already scheduled?"

"Mhmm." Billy nodded, glancing up. "Lucky Week Thirteen this comin' Tuesday. A third there. Pretty much just growin' left to do at this point. Everything's there already. Doc scheduled an extra checkup in there to do another heart Doppler. If something gets passed on, he wants to catch it. Nothin' odd, just a little fuzzy soundin' the last time." She smiled again. "We had an early storm this season that surged some of his equipment when a transformer went on the other side of the valley. The ultrasound is out of order, the Doppler needs serviced, and a couple other things. The place that fixes that kind of stuff has a backlog. The spring weather was hard on lots of equipment it seems. He'd like to have done an ultrasound sooner, but he thinks it can wait. At this rate, he'll be able to tell what it is when he does it." She seemed casual enough, gesturing to the roaring storm with her book, but she smiled a little. It wasn't hard to guess what her favorite subject was these days, but she had so few people to talk to about it.

"Now's usually when people start being told. Have you thought about telling your mum?" The grifter's voice was gentle, knowing the subject wasn't an easy one.

"If the nightmare I had the other night was a sign, I might be thinkin' about it too much. Well, that and there are certain things I shouldn't read before goin' to bed. The rituals involvin' Moloch and the Aztec rain god whose name I can't figure out exactly how to pronounce are now at the top of that list." She shifted uncomfortably and rested her free arm just a little more heavily on her stomach.

"Why's that? I stole a cool statue of the Aztec guy once." Parker seemed genuinely confused.

Eliot was the one that answered, surprisingly. "Human sacrifice, little kids and babies mostly. Moloch used fire if I remember."

"And the rain god received his by drownin'. They pulled me unconscious off the bottom of a swimmin' pool nine years ago this month. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I can't drink over a cup of it without feelin' sick or get splashed in the face without a flashback. I don't even remember passin' out, just the fear." Billy started to pull her arms and legs up into the fetal position, then caught herself, and forced herself to relax. The shivering couldn't be stopped so easily. She tugged her shirt collar up higher.

"Taken swim lessons bunch of times since...can't make myself let go of the edge, even with a lifejacket on and a lifeguard next to me if I can't touch bottom. The last time, the closest thing I have for a friend was teachin' the class. Irony of ironies, the first time I took lessons, so did she. She took to it and ended up a lifeguard and instructor at the Y in high school. Every year since she started workin' there, I've tried. Me and a bunch of little kids. They learn, I don't. Can't relax enough to float. Did manage to learn to kickboard last year though. Four or five summers from now and I'll have to see if Sara has better luck teachin' this one." She patted her belly gently. "You just might scare her off the idea of workin' summers at the Y between semesters. I'll probably hover more than a helicopter squadron on maneuvers." It was clear she'd already decided the water wouldn't be the same hazard for her child as it was for her.

"I love the rain, a good storm like this, but anything more..." She cast an almost longing look out the window. "I'll sleep good tonight. Can't deny I was a spring baby." She turned away from it, lifting her foot from the cooling water one last time, took the towel from Eliot, and started drying it. She arranged everything to start wrapping it and opened the tin of ointment again. Sophie's eye's stung a little. Billy took a breathe, dabbed it on, wiped her finger on the gauze pad she then covered the puncture with, closed the lid, and started the practiced motions of wrapping and padding her foot.

"What the hell was that? That stuff is nas-ty." Hardison was blinking hard on the other side of the room. "Smelled like rotten eggs, paint thinner, and bacon."

Billy stood to go wash her hands and toss the trash in the bin. A few deep breaths and careful steps later, she figured out exactly how to walk without undue stress on it. "Close. Sulfur, turpentine, and lard, plus iodine and a couple other things added over the years. Old family recipe."

Every person in the room stared wide eyed at her. "You put tur-pen-tine in an open wound like it was nothing?" Sophie was trying to wrap her mind around it herself.

"It burns like hell, but you get used to it. I don't really even think much about it anymore. I remember cryin' when Ma put it on my hand when Ol' Lucky clawed me. Must have two and a half, three, somewhere in there. After usin' it for fifteen years...it's nothin'. I know it's hot stuff. The whole reason for the lard is otherwise the turp will blister the skin when it's rubbed. Does the job though. Back durin' the Civil War, one of our boys took shrapnel to the leg. They figured he'd get blood poisonin' and die and didn't do much for him. He talked his brother into diggin' out what he could and painting it with lard, sulf, and turp. He limped when it rained.

"That big black and white tomcat with the left side of his neck bare and the hair patchy on his sides that looks lopsided? He went missin' for almost a week, two winters back. Found him layin' under the manger floor one night when I was out feedin'. His neck was shredded. Literally, the hide and muscle hung in shriveled up strings. Never did figure out what he'd gotten into or what had hold of him. Doc wasn't sure what to do for him. He trimmed away the dead, gave him some antibiotics and B-12 and we plastered that stuff on him and, the next mornin', TH was up huntin' chow. Can't even tell somethin' happened to him in the winter when the other hair hides the scar. Him and his brother, Lucifer, caught a six foot black snake and killed it last month.

"I heal fast enough to not worry, though I probably ought to use a crutch the next couple days just to keep my weight from openin' it up again. The bottoms of your feet are good at doin' that. I do own a set of crutches for this sort of thing." Seeing the expressions around her, she shrugged with a wry smile. "Not my first time, remember?"

"How are you, really?" Sophie let her hand rest on the other woman's knee once more.

Billy opened her eyes, glanced at her foot, and sighed. "I know better than to think you're asking 'bout the foot or even about tonight." She sighed again and glanced down at the book in her lap. She wasn't very good at making eye contact and really was desperate not to.

"You have a lot going on right now and I worry." The truth was always the best way to compel the girl to speak, honesty for honesty.

She huffed and glanced at the grifter briefly. "I always have a lot goin' on. Sometimes just more than others. I don't sit still very well. I've kinda of accepted that. Either I do ten things at once or I end up doin' nothing. I just pick the things with time runnin' against them or that would do the most good right now or the one that needs done before something else can be, and put whatever I've got into it and hope I picked right. Then, I add in the smaller things that ought to be done as the circumstances allow. You know, mend a hoe while I've got the welder runnin'. Pick up stamps while I'm out. Paint a few odds and ends while I've got that color open. Then, I add just enough for myself to keep sane. I think that's about all anybody can do." She flicked her gaze back to her book, silently adding: squeezing in a little reading while she could.

"That, I'm sure, put's a bit of a damper on things." Sophie gestured at the injured foot and was secretly glad that it would give Billy a reason to take it easy.

"Eh, not really. Sorta like rain, winter, or runnin' out of something. It just directs what I work on, not that I work. Bad weather means I do things indoors, under shelter, or with limited exposure. I can't fix fence in this weather, but I can put a new handle on a post-hole digger or build something in the barn. I prefabbed the brooder house in on the threshin' floor one winter. Put it up in a few hours as soon as the snow melted enough. Work smarter, not harder." She stretched and turned the page. "There's a few things I could do if I was up at the house, but I'll just have to read this instead. Tomorrow was loaded into a handbasket and express shipped to hell when I was forbidden to skip graduation. At least, the leanin' over on the crutches with keep the Forthcomin' One my business."

There was something about the girl's matter of fact nature that made her so easy to like. She played things close to the vest and saw to things herself. If you asked about what was going on, she wouldn't sugar coat it, but she didn't expect anyone to help either.

"You still haven't said how you feel about this." Sophie very deliberately moved her hand until it rested on the arm Billy had draped across her belly.

They all were quiet, wondering if she would answer or just deflect again. It seemed forever had passed and that she simply wasn't going to answer. It was up to someone else to restart the conversation. Hardison hid behind his work and Eliot set about seeing to the hot cocoa Sophie had put out. Parker simply perched in a chair by the fire, wrapped in a blanket.

"I'm bein' selfish." It was whispered so quietly, any sound louder than the wind outside would had hidden it.

If Sophie hadn't been so close, she would have sworn she'd misheard. It took all her will power not to blurt out what went through her head. That voice was wide-eyed and screaming. What the bloody hell is she thinking?! She doesn't have a selfish bone in her body. She went out in a monsoon to find two sheep, carried an injured lamb who knows how far with a bleeding foot of her own, saw to its injury and comfort before her own, and she thinks she's being selfish about her baby. The baby, that had she not been keeping quiet about, only someone in a sensory deprivation tank on the North Pole would be unaware she adored.

It was hard to resist the urge to try smacking some sense into the girl and the others were either too shocked to respond or were leaving it up to their designated people handler. Sophie tried working it through her head, trying to see any way that that statement made sense. Even now, with Billy's eyes fixed on the book in her hands so she wouldn't have to look at anyone after admitting her "sin" aloud, she softly traced patterns under the hem of her shirt as if to apologize for something that existed only in her imagination.

"I know someone else could raise him better." Sophie felt the corner of her mouth curve up at the momentary crossing of her fingers as she said "him". "But I want him." The fingers crossed again at the word. Billy may have been favoring a boy, but a fool could tell she'd be just as happy with a little girl, a little confused, but happy still. "Babies just take so much, time, things, patience. I don't know that I can provide enough, that I can be enough." Her voice cracked and she accepted the cup of cocoa from Eliot with just a nod of acknowledgment. She stirred it and took a sip, grateful for the distraction.

Sophie shook her head in amazement. The only person who seriously doubted Billy wasn't capable of caring for a baby was Billy herself. She knew the girl well enough to know few people were better at things like logistics and planning ahead. She was in the first trimester still and had already started to systematically prepare things like clothing, bedding, a nursery, and organizing next year, in early June, so she could be home to care for it herself despite the fact her grandmother could probably still manage a baby like it was no big deal and would do so whenever asked. Whatever doubts she truly had had to be personal ones, hidden behind material ones. Even though it had emotion at its root, logic was the tool she needed to get there.

"Have you had trouble managing while being pregnant?" The dumb question with the obvious answer to set the tone came first.

"No. A few minor adjustments and a few appointments. Had some heartburn, but not really any morning sickness. That was a nice surprise as twitchy as my stomach can be." Billy mumbled from her cup without looking away from the page that hadn't been turned in ten minutes.

"What about between now and the birth?" Something a little less concrete than the past, but the circumstances would be similar enough to be answered almost the same.

Billy didn't answer, likely turning things over in her mind.

Eliot spoke instead, seeing the direction Sophie was leading. "What about tomorrow? Or the next day?"

Billy snorted. "This foot is the bigger deal at the moment. I should be able to limp up to the house and come back in the morning for the sheep. Ma will probably help with the chores. She does on the weekend anyway just to see what's goin' on. We'll probably shuffle some of the chickens around, maybe a few guineas. Moving the Barred Rocks made some room. Decide what the new big project is with the wall done. Well, that stretch anyhow. Suffer through the circus tomorrow."

"So, what becomes the big project them?" Parker wasn't as sure what the point of this was exactly, but she knew what to ask.

"The fence, I think. It has a weak stretch that doesn't have another winter in it. It's not really a big job. A day's worth on a good day. Loop a ratcheting tie down around the first pair of posts. Ratchet until the posts true up. Cut the fence out. Splice in the panel. Repeat until the posts all straighten up and the panels take the tension." Billy wasn't really looking at anyone, but she wasn't hunched over her mug either.

Sophie took the lead back. "You have an appointment Monday?"

"Me and the cat both. Nothing too exciting. It's in the afternoon. I'll mix the week's feed in the morning. Measure it by weight, a bucket at a time, into the mixer and, then, transfer it to the barrels the same way." Billy sipped at her almost empty cup dismissively.

"And the rest of the week and the weeks after that until school starts? About the same then? And, then, when you have class?" Sophie was coaxing her along the obvious path.

"Still about the same, but with either my mornin' or afternoon spent in Lexington durin' the week. Assignments and readin' worked in along the way. I can read a textbook or fill in a workbook on the tailgate just as easy as readin' something' fer myself." Billy shrugged and drained the cup.

"So you're fine until he comes." Sophie playfully crossed her own fingers in the corner of Billy's field of vision and was rewarded with a little smile. "You seem set until December, then what?"

"You know what." That earned her an annoyed look.

"Not really. I know broad strokes." It was Sophie's turn to be dismissive. It would drive Billy to engage deeper to draw her back in.

"At an unforeseen time, after an undetermined number of unpleasant hours, I will have the sole responsibility for a helpless human being, while likely feelin' like I did with the walkin' pneumonia four years ago or worse." That got her eye contact in the form of a glare, but it was still eye contact.

"But what will he need in those first hours? Clothes? Blankets?" She knew she had Billy, now if she could just make her see it.

"Ideally, born here and aside from gettin' ready for that... Towels to blot him dry. I'm not sure I want him to have a bath right away. They say that can dry out a baby's skin and winter air's sorta dry to begin with. He'll need a diaper, diaper cover, hat, undershirt, socks, sleeper, and a blanket or just a blanket sleeper, maybe. I don't like the idea of mittens. Don't seem right takin' his hands from him when touch is a baby's best sense at first. He'd just needs his nails trimmed and maybe long sleeves. Though I might just wrap him in a blanket in the diaper and hat for a while. Hold him close and he should be warm enough." She seemed thoughtful. No doubt she'd played those early moments in her mind hundreds, thousands, of times already.

"You've made headway on the clothes and those sorts of things." Billy nodded as if she had barely heard. "What about the bigger things? A crib? Car seat?" Sophie knew if she could destroy the things Billy was hiding behind they could deal with the root of the problem. They'd have to.

"There's a crib in one of the other rooms." Parker spoke up from her spot.

"True. The family crib just needs moved. Big, hand-carved cherry behemoth. I think every baby in the family since the end of the Civil War's slept in it at least once. It was a wedding gift for Granddad's great-grandparents from an uncle wounded in the Mexican War. He built furniture after he had to give up the army and couldn't farm." Billy shifted and pocketed the book, all pretext gone now. "The bassinet and Moses basket just need taken out of the attic. We keep a playpen/port-a-crib in the closet in the dining room for company."

"So a changin' table and a car seat. That's not a big deal." Eliot joined in with a look that dared anyone from challenging his knowledge.

"Dresser top changer's in storage too. I think Ma had it for Josey and me. For that matter, my old car seat's still around. Oughta have a new one though. I...uh..." Billy trailed off, abandoning the thought.

"What? You looked at car seats?" Sophie tried to coax the thought into the open.

"Well, yeah, but...I looked at co-sleepers. That's what Ma did for me. Not that she meant too. It just worked that way. I thought...I remember bein' little and wakin' up from a nightmare, but I was never really scared after that first second. Well, there was one time that involved a storm, a hangin' basket of ivy, and a blow-up Hillshire Farm bull..." She mumbled, but smiled at the memory. "I'd just snuggle close, pull the covers tight, and go back to sleep. I figured just do it right from the start. They have 'em that just fasten 'round the mattress and sit there like a bassinet. I think I'd like havin' him close like that." She ducked away as if the admission was embarrassing.

Sophie gently patted her knee. "After carrying him around inside for so long, I suppose it is a bit silly to expect him to sleep by himself from the start."

"Life's hard enough without makin' it harder. It doesn't seem fair." Billy scrubbed her hands over her face. To either of you, Sophie added silently.

"Feeding and changing would certainly be more convenient." She gently supported the girl's reasoning, made it more acceptable.

The girl cast a wry look at her chest. "Damn things can earn their keep for once. Ooh, string burn...been three years and I can still remember that from the archery unit in gym." The glare was almost comical. That was one area in which Billy had been blessed as a woman. Her cups runneth over, though, from the way she dressed and her general build, you didn't even really notice the DD's right away.

"They say it's the best way." Sophie offered her a smile.

"Yeah, makes sense. Nature doesn't really make mistakes. Certainly handy." She sighed. The topic was logical, but seemed a little too girly for her to be comfortable with it.

"Your grandmother won't mind watching him for bit next spring if you have to drive to campus for something and, by next fall, everyone should be settled a bit." She moved time along quickly, quickly enough she hoped Billy wouldn't get caught up on something and dwell.

"I think if I take some classes in the summer and online, I should still graduate on time without so many hours on campus. I want to raise him. Mom was gone so much when I was a kid. Ten, twelve hour days, just me and Gran and the animals. Josey would just disappear in her room, especially after she got a TV in there. I think that's why I still slept with Ma so much after I moved upstairs officially. It was the only time she was mine.

"It's not like I don't remember her from back then. I do, but it seemed like she was always leavin' or comin' home. I remember her at bath time and my piggyback rides to bed. Bein' read to. Lots of that. Meetin' her at the car and carrin' in her lunchbox and tellin' her about my day and askin' all the questions I had saved up. Goin' with her to town on Saturday and church on Sunday. Sittin' on her lap and followin' her finger in the hymnal or the scripture. Throwin' bread to the fish and feedin' the geese corn. Learnin' the chores one by one and them becomin' mine. Gettin' lifted up to look in the pens at the sale barn. Gettin' to pick chicks and goldfish. Holidays. My birthday. But they always seemed more special for her actually bein' there. I've got lots of memories without another person in them at all. I didn't get a lot of supervision. I got a lot of things as a kid, still do honestly, but sometimes I'd rather not been as excited to see her car in the driveway for once when I got off the bus. I know she loves me. I don't exactly recall hearin' it, but I remember bein' held tight, even now if I crawled in bed with her she would, her threatin' to kill over me, comin' close to doin' it more than once, but it was more actions and less words. The closest I can think of her comin' to it was: 'What's the matter? Who do I have to kill?' Ma taught me to love words, but we leave a hell of a lot unsaid. We don't ever talk directly about Cal. Mom mentions him and his family in passin'. 'The Talk' never was. I had encyclopedias for that. I think she knows I'm as interested in datin' as she was, but this," she tipped her head downward, "might be a bit of a surprise, or not. Who knows?" She leaned back with hands folded across her belly. "I don't want him always wonderin' when I'll be home, but I don't know that I'll be any better. Geology isn't exactly done out of a home office. I can try, but what will failin' cost us both?"

Oh my, that is a lot to work through. No one spoke. What could they say? A ringing cell interrupted any response.

"Yea-llo." Billy answered, slurring yeah and hello together in her odd greeting. "Oh, hey, Gran. I'm alright. I had to go lookin' for sheep and I'm waitin' out the storm a ways from the house. I'm done up at the barn, so I could just stay here and bring 'em in in daylight. I should be good 'til then. I'm always armed for bear. You know that. Shelter. Snacks. I'm warm. Got my phone, a book, and a light. Someone ought to check the incubator though. Pick the loose shells out and see how they're comin'. I'll call if I need somethin'. See ya in the mornin'. Love ya. Night!" She looked at them. "What? I had to tell her somethin'. Do you want her to send Ma lookin' for me? I'm tired. Go back to whatever ya'll were doin' 'fore I turned up that I don't want to know about." She sighed again, and, then, levered up off the couch, snagged a blanket, and ducked out onto the porch.

Sophie looked at the others. "You heard her. Do you have what I asked for, Hardison?"

The poor girl has enough to worry about that I can't fix. This, however, happens to be my specialty and I can certainly take care of it. Haywood was going down and she was going to make him suffer a little extra on top of it.

**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**BREAK**

Eliot nodded at Sophie. They all wanted these guys on principle, but it became just a little more personal every day. He couldn't blame Sophie at all for liking the girl. He'd be a hypocrite, if he did. Billy certainly handled their visit like a pro. They could wait Sterling out and, if they played this right, keep their skills sharp by taking care of this problem for their hostess. He braced his hands on the kitchen sink and boosted himself up enough to see Billy in the porch light.

She was sitting on the deck, spreading the blanket out. Lighthorse was beside her and he must have been waiting out there a while. His long coat was nearly dry. As she smoothed out the fabric and took off the bulky vest, the dog sniffed her bandaged foot.

"Yeah, I hurt my paw." She paused, then reached and took the dog's face in her hands. "You'll have to keep an extra close eye on things for a while." The look the collie gave her was one that could only be described as deeply insulted. When did he not keep a close eye on things? That was his job.

He was a maintainer of order, the keeper of the boundaries, the protector of a large and motley flock, his pack. He worked to please the leader of his pack, whether she told him to directly or not. From the day that he'd been carried from the car to the front yard as a fuzzy, six week old puppy, he'd studied the world around him, everything that was there and everything that happened, and he'd learned. He'd been a working dog from that very first day. He'd watched from under the hammock and had helped keep the paper from escaping. He had been "such a good boy" and "so smart". Her wish was as good as any command. He'd been carried from cage to cage, pen to pen, and shown what was inside that same afternoon, taught what belonged where. Sometimes, the occupants of those pens might be moved somewhere else, but they did not go there on their own. He inspected every new thing built or brought here and supervised nearly every activity. By the time he had been a year old, he did things that he thought he'd be asked to do if someone was there or thought to ask him to, even if she didn't know he did them.

"Sorry, buddy. I wasn't thinkin'." She leaned down and rested her head against the dog's in an apology. "You always know more about what's goin' on than I do any more. I saw the tracks. You've been down in the gully with the sheep today and you've been checkin' on those two when they stayed out there. Hard to miss the big ol' circle you wore in the ground. You took us straight there and I bet everything knew you were hangin' around."

The big dog was a little more protective than usual. Not one, but now two of his charges had been injured today. He didn't like it. He sniffed and nuzzled Billy again and nudged her side gently, but firmly.

"Baby's fine, but thanks for askin'. You'll have a two legged puppy to be the indulgent uncle of soon enough." She scratched behind his ears. "You don't miss anything anyway. You'll get along with me being out of commission a lot easier than I would without you." She laughed and stretched out on the blanket and got comfortable, pulling the other side over her. Lighthorse had joined her, stretching out between her and the steps. He wasn't willing to be far from his wounded charges tonight. Breaking out the MP3 player and her book, she seemed settled for the long term, waiting for a break in the storm or for her batteries to recharge a little.

Eliot would keep an eye on her, but they could talk inside without her interrupting for now. Once he had his feet back on the floor, he fixed his gaze of Sophie, peering over Hardison's shoulder. "You have something in mind?"

The older woman ran her finger along her lower lip. "We have to do this right. No shortcuts. No surprises. The authorities will be swarming the whole area when this goes down, if we do this right, and we need to be able to disengage from this thing without actually leaving if need be. The longer we stay here, the longer Sterling has to chase wild geese and, if the trail goes cold enough, they will take his manpower away. Some of it, at least.

"I see at least five steps to this and it's a good thing we don't have to rush. First off, we need to know the players and the game they are running. We still haven't even decided who all is in Haywood's pocket. Until we know who we can trust to be one of the good guys, we can't move on the the next step. Once we have a good idea what's going on, we'll put pressure on the operation from both ends. Small things of course. If it seems to concerted, they'll be suspicious. We just want them on edge and, maybe, a bit distrustful of each other. Once we have Haywood and Vaughn off balance, we start putting things into position to really destabilize things. We make it seem as if the other one has turned on his partner and is setting him up. That's when they will be the most vulnerable. If we play that distrust up and cause problems on the outside, they will have to act. If we make them draw attention to themselves and we have the right people looking in the right place..." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

"They'll just scoop them up and we won't have to be completely involved." Eliot nodded in agreement and Hardison and Parker did the same.

"We need access to the local files then. We have to be able to see everything that's going on and not just what's gone on the public record in court verdicts, dispatcher briefs, and outside sources. I need access to at least one of the central data nodes. The more the better, but we're outsiders. This is Hickville, USA. Even I have limitations. I know, I know, it's hard to believe, but I can't hack hicks. They aren't going to let us waltz in there and not be suspicious. They have computers just on their intranet. I can rig something that will tap into the network and allow me to access it by remote, but I'll have to get some more supplies and, then, get physical access to install them." Hardson looked back and forth between Sophie and Eliot.

"But you can access other agencies. The state police, DEA, Homeland Security, and such?" Sophie was thoughtful and Eliot smiled at the faint smile on her face. She had something special in mind and he thought he was going to like it.

"Do I have access? Woman, what do you take me for?..." Hardison started into one of his tirades.

Eliot just tuned him out. A plan of his own started to form.

"Parker can get you in wherever you need to access. So forget that. Figure out what you're gonna need to make your taps. We're goin' out tomorrow. I want to start layin' in supplies if we need to stay put to ride this out without needin' Billy to do it for us. What we're gonna do is not be strangers." Eliot looked at the other three.

Hardison and Parker were a little confused, but Sophie was intrigued now. "You want to build deep covers, new ones, here." She was on the same track now.

"Not just here. If we're gonna take this thing to Vaughn too, we're gonna have to go to Lexington. I say we split this up. Parker and I were already seen here once. I'm Tom Gantry and my daddy, Jerome or Buck, used to hunt here. I'm sure that old timer has been tryin' to jog a few memories with my story. I even had an invite of sorts to crash Billy's graduation party. He probably figures Parker is my girlfriend. If we drop in tomorrow on the pretext of talkin' to Billy's gran, we'll lose some of the mystery." Eliot looked at Sophie to see what kind of lead she'd take on the Lexington end and tried to ignore Hardison's less than pleased reaction to any long term con that required Parker to play Eliot's girlfriend.

"We take away enough novelty and fade into the woodwork. Like hiding in plain sight. I need something that bases me in Lexington, but gives me a reason to travel out this far enough often enough to not seem odd if I'm spotted and, maybe, something that gives me a way to know Billy so I'll have a reason to visit too." Sophie tilted her head the way she did when she was inventing a new person.

"Books." Parker finally spoke. She'd been quiet since she returned with Billy. Eliot thought she was weighing something heavy in her mind.

"Perfect. I can be a used book dealer. If I specialize in rare and antique books, most of my business would be done by mail or internet. I would then be free to spend time traveling about trawling estate sales, second hand shops, and the like for inventory. Billy and I would have crossed paths enough to be friendly and, if I were already out this way, I would drop in on my friend to at least say hello. It would be impolite not too. Hardison would make a wonderful assistant. A part-time position that let's him research for grad school and help with tuition." Yep, Eliot thought, she's havin' fun inventing TWO new people. No doubt she'd be trying to flesh out the other two's roles as well.

"Okay then. We need a list of supplies, an idea of where we can get them, four new identities, and a few places we can hit for recon while we're out. If we spread it out a bit, it won't be so suspicious. These guys like to change locations. We need to come up with a way to look out for any change in activity. Hardison, add whatever you need for that to your list." He grabbed a notepad and started to check what they had against what he wanted and what they should have on hand if they needed to be completely holed up for a month. The orange soda would have to be stockpiled or he'd have to bury Hardison out back before long.

Sophie was already outlining who this new person was and what she needed from Hardison. Parker had commandeered one of the laptops and was studying the various sites housing the computers they wanted to access. He set the pad down a minute and peeked out the window again. Billy would eventually come back in to get her things before heading back to the house and he didn't want surprised. He was certainly surprised by what he saw though.

Billy had gone to sleep stretched out on the heavy boards that made up the porch deck. That was the only conclusion he could come to anyway. The only part of her he saw was her left elbow. She'd rolled up in the blanket completely and, from the one paw and tail sticking out under the edges, the big Border Collie was curled up with her, her arm draped over him. She needed to sleep. It was good for her and the baby. He wouldn't be surprised if she slept there all night now that the adrenaline had worn off and the rain and warmth had lulled her into deep sleep.

He wasn't happy with her out in the cool, damp air and on the hard surface, but waking her wouldn't be good. He suspected her startle reflex would be pretty rough, besides if she was tired enough to fall asleep there, it was wrong to wake her. He worried what it would do to the cough he noticed earlier. It had a deep seated sound to it and, once, when she'd gotten some of the mortar in the face, she'd made a sound that reminded him of whooping cough, like she wasn't getting quite enough air all the time. He really hadn't liked the sound of it, but she'd thumped herself in the chest to clear it a little and kept going. Surely her doctor was keeping an eye on it, he hadn't taken a detailed look at her medical records, giving her some privacy, but, still, he'd keep an eye on her himself and make sure she had a steaming cup of cocoa when she got up.

"Looking to see if she's going to catch us? I do hope she had another book." Sophie slipped up next to him, trying to see for herself.

"She's asleep. Her and the dog are wrapped up in that blanket out there on the boards." He stopped watching and started inventorying again.

"On the floor, I thought the swing maybe, oh of course..." She trailed off as if she suddenly saw sleeping down on the floor as opposed to the elevated and padded swing as the rational solution.

"You don't seem surprised." He pressed her to share her insight.

"Morning sickness may not have been an issue, but motion sickness always is. She has a "twitchy stomach" remember? She laughs about it, but even an elevator or certain things at the cinema can stir it up. She seemed rather hoarse during a video chat and was ashamed to admit it, but she'd gotten sick twice on the trip back from her uncles' in West Virginia. Any type of movement other than her own two feet, horseback, piggyback, and, oddly, by tractor, all get to her eventually. That would include the swing. With this wind, she'd have been hanging over the railing ages ago." The grifter seemed abashed to share this secret with him. They both knew Billy would be embarrassed by it and that it was best to keep it to themselves.

"Yeah, makes sense then. Do you, uh, know anything about that cough?" He wanted to know, but it felt a little wrong to be asking.

"The one that sounds like someone is trying to strangle the poor girl? 'Fraid so. I've heard that enough too" She settled back against the counter. "Broke most of one side of her ribcage in a schoolyard accident and, with her ridiculously high pain tolerance, no one realized how badly she'd been hurt until after they'd already healed poorly. That bout with the pneumonia she mentioned earlier just made it worse. One lung is weak and she never seems to quite shake that cough completely. As she puts it, 'Life has not been kind.'" She cast a sympathetic look towards the back deck. "The truly horrible thing is, I think years of bullying and a school system that continually looked the other way are just a start. I fear there are other, darker things even than that that have taken their toil. I'd like nothing more to be wrong,...but I know I'm not. That anger comes from somewhere." She sighed resignedly, as if she'd had this conversation with herself before and came to the same end. He knew such hope was in vain too.

Tearing away from the thoughts of horrible things in the past that he couldn't change, he grabbed a handful of paper towels, stalked across the room, and stuffed them in Billy's wet shoe, as he carried them both over to the heat. At least it'd be dry when she put it on, though some water would leak through the hole in the bottom.

"Hey, man, do you have any epoxy?" He knew the brief interruption wouldn't be a big deal to the geek and he usually kept stuff like that in his travel kit.

"Yeah, here." He caught the adhesive as it sailed in his direction. "Whatcha you need it for?"

"Just figured I'd seal up this little hole in the sole. Otherwise, it'll just get wet again and she'll have to redress her foot." He upended the boot and used a sliver of bark from the wood pile to mix and apply it. The wood went in the fire, the boot on the hearth, and the epoxy back the Hardison. "We'd best keep things out of sight unless we're using them. She could be in here in ten minutes or she could sleep until mornin'. Let's play it safe."

He waited until he got nods from everyone and returned to making up his supply list. It was a tricky thing. He had to have things that would keep and enough of it to last a decent amount of time. There were also the fresh supplies for immediate use. Flour, yeast, sugar, meat, dairy, produce, the list was growing by the minute. He worked out a few menus, but kept it flexible. He wanted to have things on hand that would be quick and easy, if they were busy, or to lay out a spread they could help themselves to, for when they were in and out. He always included the things that were their staples, Sophie's tea, Hardison's orange soda and junk food, Parker's cereal. He was determined to refine the diets of the last two.

Hardison was easy to figure out. He was a frat boy and would eat whatever was placed in front of him. So long as Eliot cooked, the other man would eat it. Parker was a harder sell. He'd given it a lot of thought and come to two conclusions. Parker was naturally curious or suspicious of anything new and didn't vary from her established eating habits, well any habit really, without external forces. He could also use that curiosity once he realized part of the problem was that no one had ever taught her the basics of cooking. Every guy had probably sat through a least a semester or two of Home Ec, but Parker hadn't had that and, without any sort of guidance other than Archie, she simply had never learned beyond what she'd had to. A microwave was as complicated as it got. Part of him shuddered at the thought of her early experiments with that.

He could work with that though. The earlier lessons had gone well enough. Parker could scramble eggs. He threw a few more items on the list. They were for a couple simple and quick meals, but they also would be good ones for teaching Parker. Even if she only learned a few basic skills, it would be more than she had. Hardison could even manage a few basics. Nana had made sure of that.

He shook his head quietly to himself at the slightly disturbing thought of trusting Parker to feed them. Well, she could be trusted to do anything she'd been properly taught to do, he'd just have to be the teacher. It couldn't be the worst or the hardest thing he'd ever done. He hoped.

Sophie drifted off to the bedroom after a while, leaving Hardison with a list of things she still needed done. Parker wasn't far behind in heading into her closet. It left the two men taking care of things again. Hardison was busy planning out what digital and physical paraphernalia they'd need and compiling a list of what he needed to get when they went out. Eliot would never admit it, but he had to have a little respect for the kid's thoroughness when he designed and printed two sets of business cards out, one for Sophie's cover and one for what Eliot had passed to him on Tom Gantry. He knew Hardison wondered when he'd been furnished with a lot of the paper trail already, complete with a very convincing life history, but the other man had simply nodded and created what Eliot had requested. There hadn't been much Hardison needed to do for Eliot. While they were out, Eliot intended to get one of the caches he had in Lexington. That would provide him with almost everything he needed and the rest would be easy to get. He finished his list, told Hardison to wake him if or when he went to bed, and went up to grab his ninety minutes. There was a faint smile on his face as he stretched out on the bed. He wasn't exactly a local, but he certainly wasn't a fish out of water back here on the bluegrass. He was actually looking forward to tomorrow. The pieces were in motion and the other side was completely unaware the game had begun. That was just the way he liked it. They couldn't duck if they didn't see you coming.