Part Four – Greene's Knights
When he turned to see Michael Farron holding a gun to his head, Buck had frozen. Blood still poured out of the old man's "wound," but he stood smiling at the ladies man without awareness of it. Rationally, part of the gunslinger understood that it had been a trick. The blood was fake. A back-up plan if anything went wrong. But the other part of him could only think about that damn nightmare. All he could think of was that it was coming true – the dead were rising and he had been left alone to face it.
"Will they catch her, do you think?" Farron asked, not breaking his gaze from Buck's.
"They might," John answered, standing over an unconscious JD. They'd had to knock the boy out when he had tried to prevent Andrew from taking his guns. The older Farron brother was watching the tall gunslinger with interest. The lawmen had barely noticed the altercation when they hurt the boy.
"They won't catch her," Andrew asserted confidently. "Maggie's the best."
"So are they," John replied coldly. He looked back at his father, his hazel eyes impassive.
"Then we'd best take some insurance," Farron replied, amused by the ashen pallor of the gunslinger in front of him. "Andrew, get the Greenes. And, as for you, Mr. Wilmington, if you would be so kind as to get into the back of this wagon? We don't have much time."
Buck didn't move, not until he felt John take him roughly by his good shoulder. It was enough to jolt him awake again, but he quickly realized he wasn't in a position to fight back. He was still weak, and the scarring on his other shoulder too fresh. He glanced worriedly at JD, then did as he was instructed and climbed into the wagon.
Moments later, both Greene brothers and Belinda were forced in with him, and the wagon started off.
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Chris inspected the ground, then looked up at Vin. The tracker was watching him with a petulant gaze. He knew what was coming, and he drew his damaged arm closer to his body.
"Vin, you'll have to stay here with the Greene's boys. That arm of your won't let you shoot, and I don't want you riding with it either."
"Chris, my left arm is fine…."
"Last time I checked, Tanner, it takes two hands to fire a rifle, even a sawed off one."
"You could lend me a…."
"No! Not another word. I do plan to lend you a gun, to protect yourself and those children, but I said I don't want you riding with that arm and I meant it. You're bleeding out through the cloth Nathan bound you with already. I want you here, guarding the boys, and that is final."
Vin tensed his jaw, "You sure you can follow that wagon without me?"
Chris just gave him a look, and Vin bowed his head in defeat. Hell, JD could probably track a wagon carrying seven people. Vin grimaced. Of course JD was going, he thought snidely. Just 'cause the kid had a knot on the back of his head as bad as the wound on Vin's arm didn't mean that the boy had to stay behind. Hell no, just him and Josiah…
Chris broke Vin from his reverie when he drew one of his peacemakers and handed it to the tracker. "Send Josiah to the livery. And, before you say anything," he held a finger up to stop Vin from arguing unfairness, "He only has a shallow graze. You don't. Now go." Vin looked angry enough to spit, but nevertheless took off at a jog.
"Nathan," Chris said, "you're in charge of Miss Farron here. She'll have to come with us. I'm guessing Farron took Buck as a bargaining chip for her life." The healer nodded grimly, and took the girl's arm from Chris's grip.
"Right," Chris smiled grimly at his motley crew, "let's go get our people back."
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They had started off slowly, as Chris gauged the direction of the wagon. Soon however, they were moving at a crisp pace, the horses moving in unison with the big black.
Chris lifted himself a little higher off of Solon's back, urging the horse to move faster. At this rate, they would catch up with the wagon within the next fifteen minutes. He frowned, trying not to think of the implications of that fact. Farron had to know the wagon would be slow, but he took it anyway. It meant Farron knew they were coming, and fast. Chris just hoped that they could handle whatever would be thrown at them.
He also hoped Buck's dead body wouldn't be one of them.
He glanced around at the others. JD was by his side, the boy's face still a little pale, but it was more than compensated for by the determination which lined his features. Chris knew there was nothing to worry about there. To his other side, he caught sight of Nathan ponying Farron's daughter. She seemed to care not at all about trying to slow them down, and, in fact, was looking almost expectant. Once again, Chris found himself frowning.
Without looking back, he could also hear the rumble of Ezra and Josiah bringing up the rear. Chris had not missed the acid looks the gambler had been shooting the older man, but decided it was something he could do nothing about now. Part of him wondered whether Ezra understood why he was so angry, and he couldn't resist a small smile. It faded quickly as he turned his thoughts back to the present. He knew Ezra would not let his mood get in the way of what was to come.
He looked ahead at the forest before them, knowing full well that it ended atop Breaker's Pass, a small but tight canyon with a raging river flowing through it. It was the same river that had claimed the life of the Miller family almost a year ago. This Spring had been no where near as wet as last year, but there had been enough rain and melted snow to make the river dangerous.
Chills ran up Chris's spine.
Just hold on Buck. We're coming.
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They entered the clearing slowly, knowing full well that it would be useless to hide their approach. The open space was too large, and the canyon rim prevented a back door attack. The powerful river roared down below, its call louder than their own thoughts. As one, the five men stopped, halting the horses about twenty yards from their welcoming party.
As Chris had known, Farron was expecting them. The old man stood, dried fake blood still on his shirt, and raised a hand in welcome. To his right, Andrew held a yellow boy rifle on Stephen and Belinda Greene, the couple standing as shields, clutching each other. On his left, John held a gun on Harold. And in the background….
Oh God.
"Buck…" JD stuttered aloud, his voice betraying the fear they all felt.
They had hung him by his wrists from a branch of an oak tree that stuck out over the edge of the canyon. The rope was pulling harshly on his arms, and Nathan could easily perceive the growing red stain on Buck's shoulder even from this distance. The scar tissue had torn. The rope that held him from falling to his death was wrapped once around the limb, then traveled down so that the end was tied to the trunk of the oak, right next to where Farron was standing. Not surprisingly, he held a knife to it.
As if that weren't enough, a second rope hung down right next to it, though this one was short and tied only to the limb. The Farrons had knotted into a noose. It was loose about Buck's neck, but it was clear that it would tighten with only the slightest drop. Even if they could get to Buck and wrap a rope around his waist to pull him away from the edge, the noose would counteract the move by strangling him.
"Nice, huh?" Farron asked, flashing the knife. "I was going to use one of the Greenes originally, but Mr. Wilmington was just so willing." Glancing at the others, he brightened further upon seeing Nathan's captive, his eyes catching his daughter's. "Maggie, my lovely! Are you alright?"
"Hey Pa," she called back gaily. "Sorry about getting caught. The preacher here was feeling suicidal, and got lucky." Next to Josiah, Ezra snorted with derision at the description.
Farron continued to smile. "Not a problem, sweet cheeks. These men are good -- not as good as us, of course, but good. Sad I shan't be able to kill them now, but I suppose news of your existence would have to get out sometime or other." He shook his head and sighed. "It is always such a shame to have to show the ace up one's sleeve, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Standish? But even laid on the table, the ace is still the most valuable card." He smiled again at his daughter, and she grinned back, basking in the compliment.
"I've seen Ezra shoot an ace dead center from across the room," Buck hissed hoarsely from behind Farron, "and he had several pints of rat gut in him at the time. That ace sort of lost its value at that point." This earned him smiles from the rest of the Seven. Nathan uttered a thank you to the heavens that Buck was awake enough to be sarcastic.
Farron harrumphed, and flashed the knife again. "Regardless, as I am sure you have guessed, Mr. Larabee, I would like to trade. I promise not to cut this rope, and I will happily give you Mr. Harold Greene, in return for my daughter and the promise that you will not come after us."
"What about Stephen and Belinda?" JD demanded, standing a little straighter in the saddle.
Farron raised his eyebrows, and chuckled. "Surely, Mr. Dunne, you don't think I would let them go as well? I'm afraid that they are just too valuable a commodity. I already let you keep the children, though I could have easily hired men to steal them while you followed me here. No, no, I'm afraid they will have to come with me. That way I ensure that you and Harold do not tell anyone about our little deal."
"If you don't free them, then there won't be a deal!" Chris hissed.
"Well, okay then," Farron sighed, and started to press the blade of the knife into the rope. Both boys cocked their weapons, causing the Greenes to flinch.
"Wait! Wait, hold on!" JD looked at Chris, his eyes wild. "We'll…we'll give you your daughter, but we can't promise not to come after you," the boy begged.
"Of course you can. You original cowboy types always keep your word, am I right?"
Before either JD or Chris could answer, Ezra cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, Mr. Farron, but you are aware of who I am, aren't you?" he called, an amused smile crossing his face as he indicated his clothing. "I would hardly qualify as an original cowboy type."
Farron frowned and pursed his lips, his soft blue eyes trailing over the red of Ezra's jacket. "I admit, I forgot about that particular wrinkle. Professional swindlers as lawmen, what will they think of next? All right. I can't trust you not to come after us, Mr. Standish, but I think I can trust your friends to stop you. Will you make that oath, gentlemen, to not come after me, and to prevent Mr. Standish from coming after me as well?"
Ezra emitted a short laugh at the idea. Chris glanced at said professional swindler, then up at Buck. He too recalled the shot that had pierced that ace of spades so long ago, but he remembered even more clearly the gambler's accuracy of a week ago. A plan was hastily forming. Ezra had unwittingly given him an opening.
"Will you, uh, give us a minute to think about this?" the black-clad leader called. Farron chuckled, his expression amused..
"No. Can't have you coming up with any bright ideas now, can I?"
Chris frowned, then he sighed heavily. "Well, you see, I'm not sure we could stop Ezra should he decide to follow you. He'll insist that we beggars can't be choosers when it comes to saving our friends, and he'll undoubtedly slip from our grasp. I doubt even a rope as stout as the one holding Buck would hold him for long."
Ezra glanced sharply at Chris, amazed at the quickness of the man's wit to remember his words from the night of the kidnapping. Farron frowned more deeply.
"I am afraid that I have to agree with Chris, Mr. Farron," Ezra said slowly, turning his gaze back to Farron. "He knows what I can do with the proper incentive." Next to him, Chris hid a smile. Farron shook his head at the men, wondering vaguely if he had just missed something.
"I am not sure what you are saying Mr. Larabee."
"I am saying, Mr. Farron, that perhaps you should reconsider. Ezra can be very determined when he wants to be. He would cut you down without a second though at this point."
Farron blinked at him, absorbing this. Finally, he laughed. "Well, then, perhaps Mr. Standish should accompany my daughter over here, where I will strip him of his Remington and sleeve gun. You do have a sleeve gun, do you not, Mr. Standish?"
Ezra looked momentarily taken aback. "Um, yes but…"
"Well, does that satisfy you Mr. Larabee? I doubt a gambler would be foolish enough to risk chasing anyone without his guns."
"It certainly does not satisfy me! I object!" Ezra called, frowning at Chris. But neither Farron nor Chris appeared to care.
Chris's heart beat wildly when Farron mentioned the sleeve gun, as his plan had revolved in part around Farron not knowing about it. But, though the gambler loved his derringer, the gunslinger hadn't been sure of its accuracy across a distance. Ezra's sidearm colt Richards conversion, on the other hand….
"Mr. Larabee?" Farron prompted. "I asked you a question. Is it acceptable for me to take Mr. Standish's two weapons?"
"I don't imagine I have much choice in the matter," Chris replied finally.
"Chris!" Ezra hissed, frowning deeply at the gunslinger, "This is a bad idea." Out of view of Maggie, he winked.
"So long as everyone stays still, Ezra, this will work out," Chris replied, inclining his head. Ezra flexed an eyebrow, then nodded. Mentally, he ordered all the clues Chris had given him together – 'everyone stay still,' 'cut down Farron,' 'the rope holding Buck.'
"If you are quite finished," Farron called. "Okay, this is how this will work. John will release Harold, who will walk over to you. At the same time, Mr. Standish will accompany Maggie to me -- with you on foot, if you please, Mr. Standish. John will then take both of the gambler's guns, and my family and the Greenes will get in the wagon and leave. Agreed, Mr. Larabee?"
Chris nodded. "Agreed."
"I have your word you won't follow?"
"Yes."
"And those of your companions? No need to speak Mr. Standish."
Josiah, Nathan and JD all looked at Chris, who fixed them each with a calm stare. After a moment's hesitation, they too individually gave their words.
"Wonderful. I do love the code of the West. It can be so useful! You are just like the knights of ancient England, Mr. Larabee, I commend you. King Arthur would have been proud."
"We have strong faiths, Mr. Farron," Josiah agreed quietly.
Farron grinned at him, "Of course, as I will have Stephen and Belinda in my possession, I should warn you. Should your chivalry not be as reliable as I imagine, and you break your words, I will kill them without hesitation." Warning given, he nodded at John to loose his hold on Harold. The older Farron brother pushed Harold away from him and holstered his gun.
The Surveyor General stared wide eyed at his brother and sister-in-law for a moment, not moving, his lower lip trembling.
"Go on, Harry. He won't hurt us," Stephen assured him as calmly as he was able.
"But…"
"Please Harry. Tell my boys we love them. They'll need you to look after them now." Belinda bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. Harold just stared at her.
"Go on, Mr. Surveyor. They'll be just fine, so long as you keep your mouth shut, and those of the Seven. Got that?" Farron's blue eyes had taken on the quality of steel. Grimacing, Harold looked at the ground and nodded. Slowly, he headed towards where the Seven were still mounted.
Ezra jumped from Chaucer's back and took Maggie's reins from Nathan. Together they moved over to Farron. The gambler tipped his hat at Harold as he passed. The younger Greene barely noticed. John stepped forward and met them before they reached the tree, standing slightly in front of his father. He held out his hands to the gambler.
Sighing, Ezra ejected the sleeve gun from his right arm, then pulled the Remington from its holster. He handed them over to the older brother, then stepped around John to be near Andrew, crossing his arms over his chest much in the same way the youngest Farron had done when he'd tricked JD in town. No one paid attention to the fact that his right hand went underneath his red jacket. He shot a glance at Stephen, who was watching him, and shook his head slightly, a subtle hand motion with his left hand accompanying it.
Meanwhile, John reached up and untied his sister's wrists, and she rubbed them to get the blood circulating. After a moment, she pulled her mare around with a grin and a whoop, then had the horse step across to stand next to the wagon. John followed her, and got up on the driver's seat.
Andrew nudged Stephen and Belinda towards the wagon with his rifle, but they didn't move. He shoved a bit harder, but Stephen held his ground. Belinda imitated her husband, though she wondered why he had suddenly decided not to obey their captors.
"Mr. Greene, please," Farron said, still pressing down on the long rope with his knife. "I assume you also do not wish me to kill Mr. Wilmington."
"Go on with ya," Andrew ordered, shoving him again, almost knocking Stephen from his feet. Still the apothecary held his ground.
"Mr. Greene, this is getting tiresome!" Farron snapped, pressing harder on the rope. A couple of threads snapped, and the rope groaned. Stephen shut his eyes, praying to God he had read the gambler's signal correctly.
"He said MOVE!" Andrew yelled, giving Stephen a mighty shove with the rifle. The apothecary fell heavily to the ground, pulling Bel down with him.
"NOW!" Chris yelled, pulling his gun. He shot at Andrew before the younger Farron could regain his balance. At almost the same instant, Ezra pulled the colt from his shoulder holster and shot Farron. Josiah and Nathan aimed for John and Maggie, who both ducked for cover.
The old man gurgled slightly as the gambler's bullet impacted the middle of his chest, just centimeter's from the fake bullet wound. He looked at Ezra with shocked eyes, then, with his dying breath, he cut the rope.
"NO!" Ezra jumped forward, grabbing the rope with his left hand and wrapping it around his left wrist before it disappeared. The noose of the second rope had instantly caught at Buck's throat, choking him, but the arrested momentum had stopped the long rope holding his arms up from disappearing more quickly up the tree. Ezra pulled on the rope, dug his feet in, and prayed he was strong enough. A calmness filled him as he raised his right hand to shoot at the noose where it was tied to the limb, trying to ignore the fact that it hung directly next to the one holding up Buck's arms. If he hit the wrong rope…. No. He would not hit the wrong rope. He took a breath, and pulled the trigger.
A single shot, dead center, perfect. The noose broke, and Buck sucked in a lungful of precious air before fainting dead away.
As the gambler knew it would, the rope holding Buck by his wrists was suddenly forced to take all the ladies man's weight, and Ezra bellowed in agony as his left arm snapped forward, the not quite healed shoulder popping once more out of place. If he hadn't bound the rope around his wrist, he would have lost hold as all the nerves in the arm deadened. Ezra dropped the colt and grabbed at the rope with both hands, leaning back, his eyes shut. He just had to hold on for a short while, until the others got to him.
He could feel his feet slipping in the soft dirt. The roar of the white rapids below seemed to grow louder in anticipation. He would not let Buck drop….He would not let that river win. Not again.
Vaguely, the background fight infiltrated his hearing, and he realized that the firing continued, as both Maggie and John continued to try and get the upper hand from behind the wagon. To Ezra, it felt like a million miles away. He gasped as the dirt gave way and he abruptly skidded a foot closer to the edge before one of his feet caught a root.
Suddenly, he felt arms around his middle, helping him. Then someone else joined him on his hold on the rope. Cracking an eye open, he saw Belinda Greene holding onto the rope with him, and, if he could see behind him, he knew he would find that it was Stephen who was gripping his waist.
"Hang on Ezra!" Stephen said in his ear.
"I…already…figured that out!" Ezra hissed back. In front of him, Belinda shot him a strained smile.
Finally, the firing stopped. Ezra did not have to turn around to know the good guys had one, in part because he was still alive. Chalk one up for the somewhat tarnished knights of Four Corners.
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Chris had looped a spare rope from his saddle around Buck's foot, and they pulled him in slowly from the edge. Twenty feet below, they could hear the angry roar of the river as it was denied its sacrifice, water spraying up off the rocks high enough to splatter the rescuers. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they had him back on solid ground.
Nathan instantly went to work rebinding Buck's shoulder and trying to get the ladies man to open his eyes. He was rewarded by a somewhat bleary, blue-eyed stare after a few minutes.
"You get 'em?" Buck whispered hoarsely, his lips curving into a smile.
"Of course. Did you ever doubt us?" Chris replied, grabbing one of Buck's hands. JD sat near Buck's head, his hand resting on the tall man's hair.
"Never for a minute," Buck lied, then laughed a little before closing his eyes again. At least, the ladies man thought before drifting back into oblivion, not anymore. Chris smiled up at JD, then released Buck to the kid's and Nathan's care.
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Over by the wagon, Ezra and Josiah were checking over the Farrons, Josiah discovering with some disappointment that all four members of the family were dead. Even after Andrew and Farron had been killed, John and Maggie had continued firing, not willing to give up. In the end, there had been no choice.
"What a waste," the preacher muttered emphatically, placing a cloth over Maggie's head.
"I'm sorry?" Ezra replied, his expression dark. Once again, he had tucked his left arm inside the brace of his shoulder holster, not willing to distract Nathan until absolutely necessary. He was almost getting used to the dull, throbbing pain of a dislocated shoulder. "Did you miss what they did to Buck?"
"Oh, no…I don't mean that. I'm just saying…Such clever children, how could Farron twist them so much?"
"They had a choice, Josiah."
"We are all influenced by our parents, Ezra. Your mother, my father….I sometimes wonder what might have happened if my mother had lived. Do you ever think about your…." He trailed off, suddenly aware that he didn't know what had happened to Ezra's father. The gambler lowered his head, looking down at John Farron. Josiah waited, silently hoping that Ezra might actually tell him. After a moment, the preacher realized it was a pointless hope. The gambler took a blanket and draped it over the dead man.
"What now?" Josiah asked. "Shall we bury them here? Or take them back to Silace?"
"We'll let Chris decide. Though we do have a wagon, I suppose."
"Yes. But I would prefer the Greenes not to have to travel with the dead."
"No," the gambler agreed, peering around at camp. He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with his hand. Watching him, Josiah took a deep breath and decided to ask the gambler about his nastiness back in town.
"Ezra…have I done something to make you angry with me?"
The gambler looked up, startled. "What?"
"Before. You've been giving me dirty looks since we first caught Maggie in town. I was wondering why."
Ezra's eyes blinked, and he licked his lips. "Oh, that. Um…that was…it was nothing, Josiah. I don't know what came over me. I've had time to think about my reaction since then, and I, uh, I realize it was a little extreme. Silly, really. An aberration. I'm better now. Please, um, please forget about it…." he backed away, looking extremely nervous. "I'm going to go talk to the Greenes now. Make sure they will be all right, and all that. If you'll excuse me?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and fled, hastily making his way over to the Greenes. The family was sitting off to the side, on a downed log. Not surprisingly, they still looked a bit shell-shocked. They looked up as Ezra approached, and light smiles graced their faces.
Josiah raised an eyebrow at Ezra's quick retreat, not sure if he understood what that was all about. Chris moved to stand next to the preacher and laid a hand on his arm.
"He was worried about you," Chris explained. "You scared him when you went after the daughter's horse in town, and it made him angry at you afterwards. The same way you had been angry at him for taking off after the kidnappers by himself last week."
Josiah's eyes widened, his expression open. Chris smiled at the ground.
"You see, I overheard him whispering angrily to Nathan when we were saddling the horses, spouting off on your, as he put it, 'insane, suicidal maneuver.' Apparently, he had seen it from inside Potter's back door, and was sure that if he hadn't been there to tackle the woman, you would be dead right now. Nathan didn't reply to his little tirade; I don't think he knew how. He was as surprised as I was."
Josiah leaned back against the wheel of the wagon, unable to believe it. "He was worried about me?"
"Yeah. Of course, you'll never get him to admit it now that he has had time to think about it. I have a feeling his reaction scared him a little."
"He was worried about me," Josiah repeated, still stuck on that idea.
"I wouldn't put too much stock in it though, Josiah. He still doesn't want to think of you as a father. He'll try to avoid you now, you can bet on it."
"Yeah, but, see, it still means something. It means that it's not just me. If he was worried about me, maybe…" He trailed off, afraid to hope, and Chris shrugged his shoulders.
"Just be careful Josiah," Chris finished. "Ezra hates being confused, and I think you've managed to confuse him royally."
Josiah just looked back at Chris, and a wide smile suddenly appeared. "Yeah, but it means I'm not alone."
Chris smiled crookedly, not wanting to voice his fear that Josiah's newfound hope might be short-lived once Ezra got his shields back in place. With a sigh, he looked about the camp. Nathan left JD with Buck and walked over to where Ezra was talking to the Greenes. They could see the way the gambler's expression fell when he saw the healer upon him, but still he allowed himself to be taken aside. The Greenes got up as he left and moved over to join Josiah and Chris.
Belinda jumped as a sharp howl escaped Ezra's lips, and she turned around to see Nathan asking a slightly doubled over Ezra if he was okay. The gambler was nodding slowly, his mouth twisted in a grimace, but at least he was rotating his left arm.
"Is Ezra going to be okay?" she asked Chris as they reached them.
The gunslinger inclined his head. "Yes. How about you? Are you going to be all right?"
"They will be," Harold said. "Once I resign my position."
"What?" Stephen stared at his brother. "Harry, no. This is what you've always wanted."
Harold shook his head, "Not if it means that I'll constantly be worried about you, Bel and the boys, Stevey. I'd much rather you be safe than come to harm again because of my ambitions."
"Harry…"
"Don't be an idiot, Harold," Belinda chastised. "Farron is dead. We're not in danger anymore."
"So long as I'm in that position, you will be," he rejoined. "If it isn't Farron, it'll be someone else."
"Harry, you can't give up your office. You love the job too much. While I may not agree with how you wield it," Stephen gave his brother a sheepish grin, "I wouldn't want you to give it up simply because it might, someday, cause trouble like this again."
Harold watched his brother, his big eyes searching the blond man's face. "I don't know…" he whispered.
Stephen took the younger man by his shoulders and hugged, and this time, Harold didn't pull out.
"Harold," Belinda placed a hand on his arm, "we knew the danger of moving out here to the west, of moving to this sort of town. Until Mr. Larabee and his men came, we weren't even sure that we would survive from one day to the next, but now that town is our home, and we have the best law in the territory to protect us. We will be fine, whether you keep your position or not, because we have them to watch over us. Just…just promise to come visit more often." She smiled, and Harold was amazed to realize that she was sincere.
"You mean that?" he asked.
"I do. I always have. I'm sorry that I haven't made that plain to you before. Stephen misses you so much Harold. If you visit more often, I promise it will be better from now on." She reached around and joined the slightly awkward embrace.
Embarrassed, Chris looked away, and Josiah watched the ground.
"Hey!" JD called from Buck's side. "I hate to break up the moment, but, can we go home now? Buck says he's hungry!"
"Well then, good folk and knights of the realm, let us away to Camelot," Ezra intoned, standing next to Chaucer, his right arm raised in a mock salute. "For the fair maiden Guinevere awaits with baited breath for news of our exploits!"
"Is he talking about Vin?" Nathan wondered aloud to Josiah, who was soon laughing so hard he had the whole camp joining in, each basking in the relief of yet another chapter finished.
End…..