"O'Sullivan gave them jobs." The sheriff stood and paced back and forth. "The thanks they gave for all of his generosity was to practically set fire to the whole farm with a still!"

"Galen can't do everything." Josh leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. "The farm alone is more work than he can handle. Add on the Pony relay and it's far too much. Ishmael is a hard-working man. More than once, Galen's said he's a godsend." "God isn't in the habit of sending moonshiners to act as His agents," the sheriff snapped.

"The Almighty's used anyone or anything He chose," the pastor countered. "He used the harlot Rahab to help the children of Israel, and Balaam's donkey spoke."

"Ishmael and Ivy have almost no knowledge at all regarding the Lord." Galen rubbed his hand across his forehead.

"Then we're making a huge mistake." Pastor Dawes drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "We're measuring the Grubbs against Christian values and standards. Especially if they've had no training, they've lived merely to survive and couldn't see past each day's challenges."

"What they did was illegal," the sheriff gritted out.

"Christian values are the cornerstone of our legal system." Maltby stuck out his hands and moved them up and down as if he were comparing the weight of two items. "Justice and mercy have to be balanced. Someone who's come from the backwoods and never stepped foot in a church-such a man deserves consideration."

"From what I see," Pastor Dawes said slowly, "there are two issues at hand. The first is whether the Grubb twins should be brought up on legal charges."

The sheriff scowled. "Most of the evidence of the still probably burned, so I might not be able to indict the Grubbs. Even if I bring them in, Maltby here is soft-hearted and sounds like he'll find any loophole he can to get them off."

Maltby nodded.

Pastor Dawes faced Galen. "Then the other issue is, what is to become of the Grubbs?"

"Ride 'em out of town," the sheriff asserted. "The faster, the better."

"I thought that yesterday when we were fighting the fire," Galen confessed. "Then they found out their father was dead. I realized my original response was spiteful, yet vengeance belongs to God."

Maltby spoke up. "That doesn't mean you're supposed to turn the other cheek and keep them here."

"That's the first thing you've said I can agree with." The sheriff scowled at Galen. "They've deceived you already. How can you be sure your mother and little brothers are safe?"

"Ishmael and Ivy Grubb are raw, but they're not dangerous in the least."

"Josh, you've met them," Maltby said. "What's your opinion?"

"Ishmael's a hard worker. He's respectful of Mrs. O'Sullivan and good to the boys."

The sheriff hadn't stopped pacing. He wheeled around. "And Ivy?"

"Backward," Galen said, "but we can't hold that against her."

"Ruth and Laney have spent time with Ivy." Josh straightened up. "Their impression is that she worked herself silly and got nothing but grief from her father."

"Pa don't thank Ivy's worth much, her bein' a gal." Ishmael's words echoed in Galen's mind. "Pa got hisself a rare bad temper... . It shames me to admit it, but he's dreadful hard on her."

"There's a difference between pitying someone and begging for trouble," the sheriff said, staring at Galen.

"You asked us for our counsel." Pastor Dawes looked at each of them in turn. "Since the legalities-" "Illegalities," the sheriff muttered.

"Are a matter that won't need to be addressed," the pastor said as if he hadn't been interrupted, "what you have to do is determine whether to allow the Grubb twins to remain on the farm or ask them to leave. We started out this meeting with prayer and asked for wisdom. We'll be ending it the same way. You don't have to account to any of us for the choice you make. It's between you and God."

"Not exactly." The sheriff cleared his throat. "If I find out either of the Grubbs is behind the robberies, you could be accused of harboring criminals."

Josh scoffed, "That's absurd."

"Actually, it's true." Maltby shifted uncomfortably. "Because you know Ishmael and Ivy's character is questionable, and it's been ascertained that the thefts coincided with their arrival, you could be viewed as an accomplice of sorts if they're implicated in any way."

"Mark my words," the sheriff said, smashing his fist into his other hand again, "you're courting trouble if you keep them on."

After they closed in prayer, Galen stopped at Lester's mercantile to pick up Ma. They stayed silent the whole way home. Lord, what am I to do?

"What are those?" Ma asked as they pulled up close to the house, pointing to a dozen or so odd ridges in the earth.

Galen helped her down, then followed the marks around to the far side of the house. The woodpile was much larger than it had been that morning. Most of the new wood was charred on one surface. Etched into the dirt in front of the pile were two stark words: Sorry Boss.

Ivy refused to look off to the side where the men had buried Pa yesternoon. All things considered, they'd been downright civil, digging a hole and such. Ishy hadn't let her see Pa. He'd taken the worst of their three blankets and wrapped Pa in it. Mr. O'Sullivan offered to say a prayer, but Ivy refused. It didn't seem right, talkin' to God over the grave of a man who insisted He didn't exist.

Pa was gone but Muley had returned. Ivy walked alongside the beast, gripping the rope halter tighter than ever, letting the stiff hemp fibers dig into her palm. It didn't banish the memory of the soft dirt she'd held for a moment before dropping it into the grave.

"Anywhar you wanna go in particular?"

Ishmael's question made her look over Mule's head. Ivy merely shrugged.

"Up till now we always headed west. Could be we should go south. Winter's a-comin', so we'd be ten kinds of fools to aim for somewhar cold."

"You gotta point." They continued on. Birds sang as if everything in the world was good. The only other sound was the dull scraping of the travois Ishy had fashioned out of their tent. By sheer luck, the tent hadn't caught fire. The meager belongings Ivy could salvage comprised two bundles on the travois.

"I'll take care of you, sis." Ishmael wiped his brow and slapped his hat back on his head. "We got us Mule and an ax. Even got us a little food and the pots."

She pasted on a smile so he wouldn't know how tired she was. "'Twixt yore snares and my gatherin', I reckon we cain get along."

"Only till I find work. Good, honest work. Either in a town or mebbe as a farmhand again. That kind of work suited me jist fine."

"You ain't the onliest one what cain work. Could be the farmer's wife might need some holp."

They didn't dream aloud about claiming land. The fire had destroyed their plow and all of the corn. A crop of goose bumps is all I'm ever gonna call my own.

The sound of a horse coming made Ivy tug on Mule's rope. "C'mon, you flea-bitten sorry bag of bones."

Mule whinny-brayed a protest.

Ishy nudged against the beast and rumpled its stiff mane. "Gotta move, Muley." The animal's long ears twitched. "Jist a few steps now."

Whether it was the coaxing tone or the pressure, Ivy didn't know. Didn't really care, either. It worked. Mule plodded over at an angle.

Ivy and Ishmael both turned back to make sure the travois would be out of the horseman's way. Ivy blinked. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Mr. O'Sullivan pulled back on the reins, and his horse obediently halted. Mr. O'Sullivan even tipped his hat to Ivy.

He shore is a strange feller. Acts mannerly even when we done him wrong. "Ishmael."

Ishy cleared his throat. "Boss, we know we done wrong. You ain't been nuthin' but good to us, and we kept Pa's secret. Weren't no way to return yore kindness."

"It wasn't."

The shade from the brim of his hat made it impossible to see his expression, but his clipped words made it clear he'd just as soon wallow in a sty as to waste his breath on them.

"You said yore land went to the ridge." Ishmael slapped Mule to set him in motion. "We'll be offa yore property in a few more minutes."

"We had a deal."

Ivy looked from Mr. O'Sullivan to her brother and back. He'd already hollered at Ishmael yesterday. Probably was fixin' to lay into Ishy again. No matter whar we go, folks're always the same. They find out what Pa was up to and they tear into us till they're shore we're gone.

"We had a deal," Ishmael agreed, "but Pa-"

"My deal was with you, not your father."

Ivy and Ishmael traded a startled look.

"Don't mistake me. I won't put up with any more deceit. If I so much as find one drop of moonshine, I'll have the law on you. But I won't hold you responsible for your father's behavior."

Mule's rope slithered from Ivy's hand. The rough fibers rasped, proving this whole scene was real, not a dream.

"Christians rely on God's grace and forgiveness. We confess our wrongs, and He forgives us. You've been man enough to apologize, Ishmael. I'm giving you a chance if you choose to take it."

"I cain still work for you, and Ivy and me are okay to live on your land?" Ishmael sounded as incredulous as Ivy felt.

"That was our deal. Either you stick with it or you move on. Your choice."

Ishmael swiped his hat off and rushed toward Mr. O'Sullivan with his hand outstretched. "Much obliged, Boss."

The men shook hands, and Ivy's knees began to shake.

Mr. O'Sullivan sat up tall in the saddle. "You'll need today to set up your camp. I'll see you in the morning."

Ishy waited till his boss rode off, then tossed his battered hat into the air. "Yeehaw!"

Excuses. Silly little excuses that fooled no one. But how wonderful they were! Laney watched as her brother and Galen stood by the mare and talked about it while Laney waited astride the other horse. Josh-bless him-was the one who had concocted this excuse. No doubt, it was with Ruth's help. They'd started finding ways to allow Laney and Galen to be together. Nothing thrilled her more.

"She's a bit fractious," Josh was telling Galen. "I'd appreciate it if you'd ride her and let me know. I wouldn't want to sell her to the Darldens for their son yet if she still needs more training."

Galen chuckled. Laney loved the rich, happy sound that came from him. He shook his head. "That boy's just like my brothers. I'm thinking 'tis usually the boy rather than the horse that requires more training."

Josh cast a glance at Galen's paddock. "I'll ride Nessie home.

You can trade me back when you come by."

"You have to give me Nessie back." Galen gave him a friendly shove. "I know you always did take a liking to her."

"She's one of the sweetest horses I ever broke. It's a pity all girls aren't as biddable."

"Joshua McCain!" Laney gave him an outraged look.

"I'm sure he meant mares, lass."

"I'm sure he didn't."

Josh didn't look penitent in the least. "I live in a household of women. Ruth, Laney, and Hilda gang up together. You don't know how lucky you are, Galen. The men in your house outnumber your mother."

"Aye, that we do." Galen grinned. "But then again, Ma's been known to hold her own quite nicely. Still, she'd be happy to have me take a wife so she has someone to back her up."

Galen's words echoed in Laney's mind. He swung into the saddle and rode alongside her. "This mare's got some frisk to her."

"She's spoiling for a run. Josh made her plod the whole way here."

"I've never seen you ride at anything faster than a slow trot."

Laney flashed a smile at him. "I'll beat you to the ridge!" She took off before he did. Before long, Galen's bark of laughter caught up with her. A heartbeat later, they rode side-by-side up to the ridge. Once there, their horses pranced and pawed, then wended back and forth between clumps of trees.

"You ride well. 'Tis a pleasant surprise."

"Thank you. I like the feel of the wind in my face." Laney reached up and adjusted her hatpin.

"It fans your color higher." Galen studied her face. "Aye, and it makes those little curls wisp around your face. The only other times I've seen them is when you've been here to do some canning or make jelly."

Laney reached up to smooth them back.

Galen's hand shot out. He stopped her and gently kept her hand in his. "Don't. They're darling." Slowly, he turned loose of her hand. "There are many facets to you, Laney," he said, his voice gruff. "I'm liking each one I see."

"Hey, thar!" Ivy walked out from behind a tree. "What're y'all doing out here?"

"We're taking a ride." Galen's hand rested on the pommel. "Josh is thinking of selling this horse, but he wanted my opinion as to whether she was tame enough for a youngster to handle."

"Anybody worryin' o'er whether a kid oughtta ride a beast might think on gettin' a mule. They're strong and steady. Muley of ourn, thar's one hard-workin' beast. Ain't much to look at, but sometimes looks ain't what matter most."

"You're right," Galen agreed.

"What do you have there?" Laney nodded toward the bucket Ivy carried.

"Pine nuts. Mighty fine tastin' when you know how to fix 'em."

"I've never had them, but I can tell from your voice that you love them. By the way, Ivy, since the O'Sullivans had us all over to their home for Thanksgiving, I wanted to invite you all to Christmas at our place."

Ivy gave her a wary look. "You ain't a-gonna make us go to church first, are you?"

Laney saw the small shake of Galen's head and took his cue.

"Ivy, you're always welcome to join us for worship, but coming to supper is all I'm asking."

"I'll talk to Ishy."