"Sir John, huh?" Johnny asked, barely concealing the skeptical tone to his voice.

"That would be correct," the old man said, sounding proud. He beamed at the four of them, sitting there at the table. "My friends call me Burl."

The old man's eyes seemed to take on a faraway look. "I had many friends then. The world was full of beams, and the nights were clear

as crystals-"

Teresa looked at Scott and Johnny, perplexed. Johnny gave a slight lift to his shoulders as if to say that he couldn't figure it out, either.

The old man's attentions came back to the group of Lancers at his table.

"That was many years ago," he said, sounding sad.

"And where was this?" Johnny asked, sounding determined. "Where the nights were clear as crystals?"

Charlie held her breath. Part of her wanted Johnny to keep on prodding the old man for answers, for information, but yet, he seemed so frail

at that moment. Old, and hunched over. He met Johnny's eyes, and then suddenly, without notice, changed before their eyes, and ears yet again.

"Ain't got no vittles 'round here fit to serve to company," he said, reverting to his defensive 'vagrant' personality.

"We don't need anything to eat," Scott said. "The coffee's just fine."

"Well, I best be puttin' these things in the larder," Burl said, and stood up, moving as if his joints were paining him.

Teresa got to her feet. "There's butter-and cheese," she began.

"I got eyes, girl. I kin see for myself," he said. He stood, pouring another serving of coffee into his own cup.

Teresa looked at first startled at his abruptness, but picked up a piece of the fabric on the table, running it between her fingers.

"This is beautiful material," she said.

"Pure foolishness," the old man muttered.

Scott and Johnny exchanged a look between them, and then got to their feet. "We need to be heading home," Scott said.

"Do ya?" the old man asked, pausing to look at Scott.

"Yes. Thank you for the coffee," Scott said.

Charlie stood up, reluctantly. She wished they were staying longer. It seemed as though they were finding out all sorts of interesting things

about the man. If only he could be kept talking.

As they made their way towards the door, Charlie tugged on Scott's sleeve. "Let's ask him to Lancer," she whispered.

Scott was preparing to shake his head in refusal, Charlie could tell, but Teresa overheard, and spoke up, "Good idea." She raised her

voice several notches to be heard.

"We'd like to invite you to lunch on Sunday," Teresa said, looking directly at the old man.

"Teresa," Johnny said, in a low tone. Reproving. He put a hand in the center of Teresa's back.

Teresa shrugged his hand off, and looked at the old man's surprised expression.

"The likes of me, at Lancer?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"We'd like to have you," Teresa said, and looked to Scott for help. "Wouldn't we, Scott?"

Drawing on his Boston upbringing, Scott said, "You'd be welcome," in reply.

Charlie, meanwhile, was breathless with hope. This would be so wonderful! Maybe if the man started coming to the ranch-

Her thoughts were cut off abruptly, as the old man cackled.

"You're a good lass," he said. "And this one is, as well," he said, looking to Charlie.

"Will you come?" Charlie asked,

"I'll have to think on it," Burl said.

"Maybe Scott would come in and get you," Charlie went on.

"Charlie," Scott said, quietly. He looked at the old man. "We'd be glad to have you. We can come by after church and see if you've

decided if you'd like to come."

"If you've a mind ta," Burl said, in response.

When they'd said their goodbyes, which Burl didn't respond directly to, and they were on their way home, Teresa folded her hands

together, sitting beside Johnny on the wagon seat, and looking satisfied.

"There we go," she said.

"I don't know what you wanted to do that for," Johnny grumbled.

"Because it was the right thing to do," Teresa insisted.

Charlie, having elected to ride behind Scott on horseback, felt just as satisfied as Teresa did.

"Doesn't mean that he'll come," Scott said, in a cautionary tone.

"Why wouldn't he?" Teresa pointed out, leaning forward so as to address Scott more easily.

"I just think that he might decide not to," Scott said.

"He's loonier than a peach orchard boar," Johnny said.

"You're the one who told me not to judge him because he needed a good bath," Teresa reminded Johnny. "And now, you're doing the same thing,

just because he's a little strange."

"A little?" Johnny scoffed, stressing the word 'little'.

"I still think it was the right thing," Teresa insisted.

"You made the invitation, now it's up to him whether he accepts or not," Scott said.

It was evident the way that Scott spoke that he was weary of the conversation. When they'd ridden on, ahead of the wagon for a bit,

Charlie still couldn't resist the urge to question him.

"What did you think of him, Scott?" she asked, quietly, leaning to the right slightly so she could see his face.

"He's an interesting man," Scott said. "I imagine he has quite some stories to share."

"Do you think he's loony, like Johnny says?" Charlie persisted. Somehow, it was very important that she hear what Scott thought.

"I don't know that I'd use the word 'loony'. He's odd. Quirky. That doesn't constitute 'loony'," Scott answered.

Charlie settled back again, tightening her arms around his waist. "I knew you'd like him," she said, with satisfaction.

"I didn't say exactly that, did I?" Scott countered, turning his head to survey her.

"No. But, I can tell that you do," Charlie said.

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At the supper meal of the day, the topic of conversation turned to the old man, and the extended invitation to Sunday lunch.

"If he comes, we'll make him feel welcome," was all that Murdoch had to say about it.

Charlie, finished with her supper, and lingering over her piece of blackberry cobbler, felt pleased with the way the

afternoon had gone. She had, she decided, quite an extraordinary family.

"Beets is coming for the weekend," Murdoch shared.

"He is?" Charlie asked perking up even more. She quite liked it when the banker come to visit.

"We'll think of something special to serve for Sunday lunch," Teresa said.

After that, Teresa began to describe to Murdoch the various colored bits of material that had been spread over the

man's kitchen table. She was puzzling over what he might be doing with all of them.

"I think he must be sewing something together," she pondered.

"We can ask him, next time," Charlie suggested. "If he's in his 'leprechaun' way."

"That's funny," Teresa said. "But he is sort of like a leprechaun, isn't he?"

"What's this 'Sir John' nonsense?" Johnny said. "That's what I wanna know. As if he's a knight, or a-prince, or somethin'."

"Maybe he is," Charlie said. She began to think wild thoughts of how the man might have come from far away, another country, where

he'd been born to a powerful and noble family, but had had to leave for some reason. Perhaps he'd had a forbidden love affair, or he'd

been swindled out of the family fortune, and had to leave in disgrace-

Her fanciful thoughts were interrupted by Johnny, who said, "Not likely, pequeno."

"He could be, couldn't he?" Charlie persisted, laying her fork on her now-empty plate. "Maybe he had to leave in a hurry-or maybe he's the second

son. You know, the first son in the noble families is the one who inherits everything-"

Johnny laughed, and a look around the table of adults, showed that they were all amused by what she was saying.

"We don't know," Charlie said, in defense. "It might be true-"

"We won't likely ever find out the truth to what that old man has to say," Johnny said. "It seems he can spin a tale that's hard to

beat."

Charlie shrugged at that, and helped to clear the table. She still liked thinking about it. Thinking that Burl might be from a noble family.

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The next day Jason was absent from school. A fact which may have contributed to what befell Charlie. Monte was still acting subdued, and

behaving unusually well, (well, unusually well for Monte, anyway). John was back to his previous taunting. He followed Charlie around

at recess, wherever she went, whatever she was doing. He was still being cautious about what he did, and Charlie knew it was so

that if he was reprimanded, he could claim that he hadn't said anything he shouldn't to Charlie; that he hadn't touched her; none of that. He just

followed her, standing and chewing on his jaw breaker or whatever it was that he had as candy for the day, and stared at Charlie, staying always about

six foot away.

Finally, Charlie could stand it no longer. She told Miss Susan after the first recess. The teacher looked confused, perplexed.

"He's not saying anything that he shouldn't?" she asked.

"No. He stands there, or he follows me, and he glares at me-"

Miss Susan called John inside, and asked him about what Charlie said.

He widened his eyes, and pretended innocence. "I'm not sayin' a thing to her," John protested. "I haven't done anything."

"Stop following me around!" Charlie demanded.

"Charlie," Miss Susan said, in reproof. "We don't need to raise our voices."

Charlie felt her face flame hot. John gave Charlie a satisfied look.

"I haven't done anything, honest," John said.

"Well, let's agree that the two of you will stay your distance from one another for a time," Miss Susan determined.

John agreed, and smiled at the teacher, going back out to recess, a saunter in his walk.

"I'm sure things will be alright now," Miss Susan said, smiling at Charlie.

Charlie was reminded of something at that moment. Something she'd known before, when she lived in Stockton, but that she'd forgotten a bit

since she'd been at Lancer. Sometimes adults didn't know what they were doing. They just plain out and out were clueless. This was one of those

times. Charlie answered politely, but went about the rest of her day, deep in thought.

After school, walking out with Rebecca, her friend whispered to Charlie that Monte had gotten punished for pelting rocks from the slingshot

the previous Saturday, but that John had not.

"That's what some of the boys were saying," Rebecca said. "That's why Monte's behaving, and why John's still full of the dickens."

"Why didn't John get punished?" Charlie asked.

"Monte was telling that it's because John's his father's favorite-he's youngest, so he doesn't get punished often."

"Oh," Charlie said. "Well, Scott's idea of talking to Miss Susan didn't help much."

"Jason can catch John after school tomorrow," Rebecca said, in a whisper. "He can put a scare into him."

"I'll think of something," Charlie said.

She was coming out of the livery a bit later, leading a saddled Gurth. And there was John, waiting at the corner of the building. He jumped out as

she approached, and Charlie nearly screamed. She was that startled.

His cheek was bulging with yet another piece of candy. A jaw breaker, Charlie figured.

Charlie stopped, and fastened a furious glare on John. "You'd best stop," she warned.

"Stop, what? I ain't doin' nothing to you. I can stand here if I wanna," John said.

"That's not all you're doing, and you know it perfectly well," Charlie said. "You're going to get into trouble."

"Teacher believed me, didn't she?" John asked, with a smirk.

"Your father, then. You can get into trouble with him," Charlie said.

"Nope. My Pa only gets onto Monte. He don't blame me for nothin'."

"Monte's not here. You are."

John shrugged in apparent unconcern. "You're not the boss of me," he said.

Scott's often spoken words to her came to Charlie's mind. 'The only person you're in charge of is yourself. No one else.' That's what he

was always saying.

Charlie took a deep breath, and tried a different tactic. "If you didn't get punished for using your slingshot, then why are you doing

this? With me?"

"I feel like it," John said.

John took another couple of steps closer. "There's nothin' you can do, neither."

"I can pound your head," Charlie heard herself saying.

John's eyes widened in surprise. "You can't."

Charlie took a step closer to John, which did away with the space between them.

"I was in a gang in Stockton," she said, in a low tone. "If you don't leave me alone, I'll show you what they used to do to

to rotten kids who wouldn't leave off from bothering them."

John's eyes went wider. He believed her. Charlie could see that, and it felt really good. Wonderful, actually. Powerful.

She took it a bit further. Taking another step closer to him.

"And, if I decide not to show you what can happen that way, I could put a spell on you instead," Charlie said, very softly.

John backed up, until he was against the side of the livery.

"I ain't scared of no magic trick," he said, though he sounded frightened, indeed.

"It's not magic," Charlie said, stepping the few steps that John had retreated. "It's-well, it's a power. I can make things happen to

you."

"Nuh-uh," John denied.

"Well," Charlie said, shrugging in pretended nonchalance. "Go on and believe that if you want to. Or keep bothering me, and you'll find

out."

She picked up Gurth's reins, and mounted him, looking back to see that John was still standing there, his mouth half open, watching her.

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