Once they were back in the barn, everyone dismounted from their horses and began to untack them. Serena didn't help them; she walked back to the house with dead prairie chickens slung over her shoulder, presumably to start cooking dinner. The older men made sure the water trough was full, then walked all the horses out to their pasture.

Out on the lawn, Harry and Ron kicked opened their trunks, peeled off their smelly sweaters, and pulled on fresh ones. They wondered why the hell Serena had left their luggage in the middle of her yard. What if someone had stolen it? They walked up the porch and yanked open the screen door. Looking past the tiny living room, they saw Chavez and the others already gathered around the scrubbed wooden table in Serena's even smaller ranch-house kitchen.

Serena poked her head around the doorway, looking anxious, but relaxing when she realized who'd come in. "Oh, it's just you boys."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but closed it in shock. Serena's hands were bloody; there were feathers all down her shirtfront.

"Chavez, come in here and help me cut off the heads." she said. "While you're at it, you can skin the rattler."

"Sure," said Chavez, looking eager for an excuse to use his knife.

Harry stared uncomfortably at the closed kitchen door for a while. He heard Serena rattling pots and pans, using the electric mixer, and humming tunes he didn't recognize. The house started to smell of cooking. After a while, perhaps an hour and a half, Serena and Chavez came back out to set dinner on the table. There was a large platter of fried prairie chicken, what looked like a plate of ribs, a basket of cornbread, corn-on-the-cob, and a steaming pot of chili.

"Dick, if you would, please," said Serena, craning her neck down the table.

She, Charley, and Steve bowed their heads and clasped their hands in front of them, gazing expectantly at Harry and Ron. The boys looked simply puzzled. What were they waiting for? Chavez gave them a sharp dig in the ribs with his elbow. Getting the message, Harry and Ron mirrored Serena's position. Dick cleared his throat.

"Lord, we all thank you for keeping us alive and well," he said a quiet, yet intense voice. "Please bless the meal we are about to receive, so we may continue to serve you. We'd also like to thank you for giving us the chance to do a good deed by watching over these boys, which may save many innocent--"

Billy interrupted. "Please, Dick, I'm starvin' to death."

When Dick didn't look up, Billy's left hand flew to his hip. In one swift motion, he drew his Colt .45 Peacemaker, eased the hammer back, and pointed the barrel between Dick's eyes. Dick drew his own weapon, aiming for Billy's heart. Harry and Ron were bewildered. Serena, however, looked...well, incredibly enough, bored. In her household, this happened at least three timesa week.

Knowing that both men would settle down once they got something in their bellies, she quickly said, "Amen."

Billy placed the gun back in its holster.

"Did you see that?" Dick said loudly and indignantly. "He tried to shoot me."

"Then you should learn not to pray so long," said Billy.

"Or you should control your temper and quit bringin' your gun in to supper with ya," Serena suggested.

When Billy opened his mouth to argue, she shoved a piece of cornbread into it.

"And just for that, you're doin' the dishes tonight," she said as Billy struggled to chew.

Since they were unfamiliar with American cuisine and didn't want to miss anything good, Harry and Ron helped themselves to everything. Billy gagged and spit the soggy bread out onto his plate, causing Serena to snicker.

"This is delicious." said Ron, who was munching on one of the ribs. "What kind of meat is it?"

"Rattler," said Charley.

"As in snake?"

Everyone nodded. Ron went pale and pushed his chair back from the table.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" he said.

While he was gone, Steve scraped what Ron had left behind onto his own plate.

The fascinated English boys observed that, as scruffy as the assembled crowd were, they actually seemed to have some table manners; not that Chavez wouldn't take out his knife if he felt somebody was taking more than their share. After everyone had finished the main course, Serena snapped her fingers to signal for Billy to start walking around the table to collect dirty dishes. He did so grudgingly, cursing under his breath.
Dessert was a blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream on top. Then, either out of custom or to give Billy more dishes to do, Serena poured everyone a round of coffee.

"Can you save back some pie?" asked Billy from the kitchen.

Serena shook her head. "Sorry, Billy. Naughty boys don't get dessert."

Harry and Ron avoided catching each other's eye for fear of laughing hysterically. Neither boy had ever thought he'd meet anyone stranger than Luna Lovegood, but Serena Riddle was in a class all by herself. She lived with several ill-tempered men, yet she acted as though she were a teacher dealing with a bunch of misbehaving kids.

"I reckon I'll turn in," said Ron. "Long day, you know."

"Night, boys." said their hostess, sipping her coffee.

She jumped up as though she'd been electrocuted when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She went into the hall, catching the boys by the collars.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"Bed," they answered, looking baffled by her actions.

"Not up there, you're not. Only one person sleeps in the house, and that's me. Go on out to the bunkhouse. That's where the help stays. Go on, git!"