Three weeks, she'd be gone. He said he wanted some companionship on the trip. And the bond starts as soon as she shows up at the Church Center in Monroe, so she'll be safe in Madison, even. What can I say, Alan. You've got a real honey of a daughter. She caught his eye."

"Quite a time for this to happen," Carlson said. "I wonder how Saint Croix would like her disappearing with that old lech. So much for them settling down." "Don't worry about him. Worry about your family, Alan. Saint Croix might understand, after all. I'll have a word with the bishop. Since Saint Croix is practically family, maybe we can offer him the bond, too. Even make getting married to her a condition. That might close the deal. If he's a smart kid, he'll know five years is just what he needs when he's trying to get a farm up and running."

"He's a smart kid, all right," Valentine breathed. "Smart enough to blow your a.s.s off through the floor."

"Let's talk to Molly tomorrow," Mrs. Carlson suggested, obviously to her husband. "And maybe David, too."

Valentine counted twenty heartbeats.

"Okay, Gwen. Listen, Mike. I'm sorry I got riled. You, too, Virgil. I was just a little surprised is all. When you're a father, your little girl is always six years old. She's a grown woman; I forget sometimes. But why her? There were prettier girls at the meeting."

"Not according to Touchet. Virgil, go wait outside. Alan, if you don't mind, I'd like a private word with Gwen."

"Okay, Major. I'll sleep on it. Call you tomorrow. Good night."

"Night, Alan."

Valentine listened to the footsteps move about as Virgil was escorted to the door and Mr.

Carlson retired to the kitchen. Valentine thought he heard him exchange a few words with Frat.

"Now listen, Gwen," Valentine heard Flanagan say to his sister, keeping his voice low enough for it not to travel out of the room. Not quiet enough for my ears, though, Valentine thought.

"You know I'm not the law. The law is whatever the Triumvirate says it is. This Touchet is a big wheel in Illinois, one of the biggest outside of Chicago. The New Church wants him happy, and I'm going to see that he's happy. I'm making it look like Alan has a choice in this, but he doesn't. Neither does Molly. You follow me?"

"I follow you," Mrs. Carlson said in a low tone. Valentine picked up the anger in her brittle voice. He wondered if her brother did.

"Touchet's going to have her one way or another. I know what you have to say cuts a lot of ice with Alan. So you might as well profit from it and get that bond."

"Is there a bond in it for you, too, Michael?" she asked.

"Can't fool you, can I, Sis? Maybe there is. This is pretty important. I think the Kurians want Touchet to consider moving here permanently. That is, if we can pry him away from the Illinois Eleven. They want him running the Wisconsin farms like he does in Illinois."

"We, Michael? Are you a we with the Kurians?"

"Always have been. I know which side of the bread my b.u.t.ter is on. I always figured I got Mom's brains. I think all you got was Dad's stubbornness."

Mrs. Carlson sighed. "Okay, Michael, you're right. I'll see what I can do."

"There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" "Harder than you'll ever know."

"Wow, man, you're losing it," Frat exclaimed, eyeing the mountain of cordwood.

Valentine was turning logs into firewood with his usual vigor. He stood outside one of the many little buildings budding from the barn's walls, filling the woodshed with fuel. During his stay with the Carlsons, he had chopped a little every day to keep himself exercised.

Valentine did not use an ax. He preferred a saw to reduce the trunks into manageable two- foot lengths, which he could then split with a wedge. He followed his routine with robotic precision. He grabbed a length of trunk and placed it on his chopping block: an old stump that had no doubt served in this capacity for years. Then he picked up the wedge in his left hand and the twenty-pound sledgehammer in his right, gripping the latter right up under the rounded steel head. A vigorous tap seated the triangular metal spike. Then he'd step back, shift his grip on the sledge by letting gravity pull the handle though his callused fingers, and whirl it in a sweeping circle behind him, up and then down to the wedge. He would then stack the halves and quarters in a nice, tight pile.

The day's woodcutting began after a halfhearted appreciation of one of Mrs. Carlson's epic breakfasts. Everyone ate with a preoccupied detachment, as if the family dog had gone rabid and no one wanted to talk about who would have to shoot it. Molly looked drawn, her mother pale and tight-mouthed, and Mr. Carlson sported a dark crescent under each eye.

Frat gobbled his breakfast like a starving wolf and fled to the backyard and his ch.o.r.es, taking the dog with nim. Even young Mary seemed to pick up on the tension; she shifted her gaze from her sister to her parents and back again.

Valentine decided Frat had the right idea, cleared his plate, and went outside. He had played the role of a forester the past few days and brought down several likely looking trees from the wooded hills to turn into split-rail fences and fireplace fodder.

He lost himself in the chopping, thinking about how to im-provise a pack for his Morgan and some spare saddles. He could tie together a sawbuck rig, and there was enough worn-out leather and canvas in the old tack trunk to strap it to his horse. By having the Morgan carry feed for itself and Gonzalez's horse, and with Valentine loaded, as well, they should be able to get within striking distance of the Ozarks before the oats and corn ran out. He planned to cross the Mississippi farther north and move quickly across Iowa, returning to the Free Territory somewhere southwest of St. Louis.

But despite the hard work and plans to get his crippled Wolf home, thoughts of Molly continually shifted his train of thought to emotional sidings.

Frat's comment brought him out of his sledge-swinging meditation.

"What was that?" Valentine asked.

"You've been chopping wood almost every day since you got here; you're a regular Paul Bunyan. We've got enough to get us through two winters. It's going to rot before we can use it."

"Well, maybe your dad can sell some of it."

Valentine realized his back and arms ached. He looked at the sun; the warm September afternoon had already begun. Even better, his mind was relaxed, tranquil.

"Hey, David, why are they watching the house?"

Valentine put down the sledge, leaning the handle against his leg. So much for tranquillity.

"Who is watching the house?" "The patrols. There's a car down the road toward La-Grange. One guy in it, so his partner is probably in the hills somewhere with binoculars or a spotting scope." Frat shaded his eyes and looked up into the hills and shrugged.

"How do you know there are two?"

"They always go in pairs. Uncle Mike talks about it. They switch around the partners a lot so no one gets used to working with anyone. Keeps them honest, I guess."

"You're pretty sharp, Frat."

"Naw, it ain't that. It's just when it's the same thing day after day, you notice the patterns.

Like you-anytime you're worried about anything, you cut wood."

"I do it for the exercise."

Frat shook his head, a triumphant grin on his face. "You sure needed a lot of exercise before meeting Uncle Mike. And when you and my mom talked about the damage to Gonzo's arm, you cut a lot then. Before you went riding with Molly, too. And that same day, after you got back and cleaned up your horse, you chopped until dinner."

Valentine sat down on the stump, staring at the youth. "h.e.l.l," was all he could think to say.

He looked over at Frat. "Do you know about the deal with your sister?"

"Yeah, Mom and Dad were up most of the night talking about it. They talked about packing up and asking you to lead them out of Wisconsin. My mom said that wouldn't work because Mike was having us watched. Turned out she was right. They woke Molly up early and talked about it upstairs first thing this morning."

"Did they decide anything?"

"I don't know. Molly started crying."

Valentine concentrated on keeping his face blank.

"Frat, do me a favor. You have a few rabbit snares around, don't you?"

"Uh-huh. There's a warren up in one of the pastures, and there's rabbits in the hills, too."

Valentine scanned the hills. "Go up and check your traps. See if you can see where that other patroller is. Can do?"

"Sure. Can do."

"Come and look for me in the stable if you spot him. But first of all go in the house for a few minutes. Like you were just sitting around, and your parents came up with something to get you out of their hair. Now get going."

Frat scampered off toward the house.

Valentine forced himself to put away his tools for the benefit of the hidden observer. He wandered to the stable, in no particular hurry. The ancient stalls, missing their doors, enclosed the horses with short lengths of rope. The rich smell of horse sweat and manure filled the warm afternoon air.

Five horses, he considered. Three belong to the Carlsons, then his and Gonzalez's. Mrs.

Carlson on one, the girls on the second, Gonzalez sharing the third with Mr. Carlson, taking turns riding it. He and Frat could walk; the boy looked lean and capable. They're farm and riding horses, not packhorses. Best keep the load under 150 pounds for travel up and down hills. Blankets and tenting, rope and equipment. Farrier supplies for the horses, or losing a shoe means losing a horse. Maybe a week's food for man and beast.

Would a week get us out of reach? G.o.d, the lifesign. Extra Reapers in Glarus to think about, they'd cover the thirty miles to LaGrange between dusk and midnight, running.

s.h.i.t, we'd be drawing to an inside straight. And Gonzalez can't shoot.

"Hi, David," a scratchy voice said.

Molly.

"Phew, you're sweaty. Frat said you were cutting wood."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I thought I'd leave your dad with a good supply. Or he could sell it, help pay for all the food we ate. Don't know how to pay him back for saving our lives. Are you okay?"

She ran her hands through uncombed hair, pulling the sun-kissed blond strands behind her.

"So you know, then."

No point in lying, he thought. "Yes. I sort of eavesdropped last night through the bas.e.m.e.nt air vent. None of my busi-ness, I know, Molly. Your uncle painted a pretty ugly picture.

What did your parents say?"

"They just told me to do some thinking, and we'd talk about it more today. But I've already made up my mind."

"Not the Masada solution, I hope."

A hint of her old smile crossed her face. "No." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to do it, of course." It came out as a single word: I'mgoingtodoit. As if by saying it faster, it would be over with all the more quickly.

Valentine had a feeling all morning that would be her decision. What alternative did she have? Perhaps he could offer one.

"Did you tell your parents?"

"Not yet. I... wanted to tell you first. I know that sounds dumb. I mean, it's not like you're my husband, but-"

"Molly," he interrupted, "I've been thinking about getting your family out of here. And not just since yesterday, either. It's a slim chance, I'll admit. Here's what we do-"

"David, don't start. It's okay."

"No, listen to what I've-"

"No, I want you to listen to me. Your slim chance, it involves us trying to slip out, becoming runners, right?"

"Not just us, everyone. Your parents, the horses, even the dog."

"Listen, David, you're crazy. None of us are in shape to ride or walk for days and days. And they're watching us. If my uncle's letting us see two men, that probably means there's six more all around somewhere. He's no doubt let the Breitlings know that if we try something stupid, they can get the five-year bonds just for calling the patrols."They're only giving me an illusion of choice in the matter. My mom didn't say it, but I think that one side of the coin has the promise of the bond, but the other has a threat. If the bishop says frog, my uncle jumps. He's not going to let something like family get in the way of orders."

Valentine opened his mouth, but she stepped toward him and gently cupped her hand over it. "David, I'm glad you were thinking about getting us out. Before this stuff with Touchet, it would have worked, I'm sure. No one would have expected us to up and disappear. We could have done it with you guiding us. You know, almost n.o.body has maps anymore. None of the roads have signs. I couldn't find my way to Madison if I wanted to, or anywhere else outside a twenty-mile circle." She pulled her hand away and hugged him. He put his arms around her, strangely unhappy at the embrace. "You're being good and brave," she said.

"But let's face facts. I'm not a damsel in distress, and there are too many dragons anyway.

This guy is a big shot. He's going to get what he wants. I see a few cow farms I've never seen before, and some backwater towns. I get a trip to Madison. Maybe he just likes having a girl on his arm to impress people, who knows. So I sleep with him. One thing's for sure, I don't want a baby. My mom said there's a way-"

"Molly, don't say it. I don't want to think about you doing that," Valentine said, twisting his mouth in disgust.

"What, pregnancy? Well, you're a man. I guess you don't have to think about it if you don't want to. You seem a little old not to know the facts of life, but women have to consider the possibility."

"No, I've just heard things. About women dying that way, you know."

She looked down the aisle of horses and patted Lucy on the nose. Valentine looked at her, in an old pair of her father's pants cut off at the knee, b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelling under a T-shirt. In her disheveled state, she looked younger than her eighteen years, too young to be cold- bloodedly discussing abortion.

"Well, with luck, the old fart's incapable," she said, closing the discussion. She walked down the line of horses. "Great, the hay nets are empty. Mary only wants to ride and groom horses; she leaves the mucking out to Frat and me. Poor things! Sorry, guys, we can't turn you out in the new field until the fence is done! These two new horses ate up what gra.s.s you guys left in your pasture. Do me a favor, David. Can you get two bales from the loft? I'm going to water these two."

Valentine crossed to the barn and climbed into the hayloft. He liked the sweet smell of hay and alfalfa up there, masking the cow odor from beneath. A couple of sparrows hopped and played in the air, and spiderwebs caught the sunlight like little silver flowers.

He heard the ladder rungs creaking. Molly joined him in the loft, a determinedly cheerful smile showing off her good teeth. She had washed her face at the horse-pump, her T-shirt had a wet, face-shaped patch over the belly where she'd used it to dry herself.

"Thought I'd give you a hand with the bales. They're really loose. Sometimes they're hard to handle. But if you bale hay tight, it gets all mildewy and rots. We can't afford to waste anything."

Valentine sniffed .a bale. "Hey, you're right. I didn't know that. All the hay I've ever seen has been packed too tight. Doesn't smell as good as this."

"That's the clover. We grow that on the other side of the road."

She cut a bundle and spilled it onto the floor of the loft."Very funny," Valentine said. "How are we going to carry it now? Or do you want to make a scarecrow?"

"Sure, David," she said, her eyes big and bright. "We can use your clothes. Why don't you take them off and give them to me."

"What's that?" he said.

She knelt in the hay. "Too shy? Okay, I'll start."

With a quick, graceful movement she pulled her T-shirt up and over her head. Her shapely young b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbed enticingly as she leaned back into the hay. Valentine stood and gaped, feeling his groin swell, otherwise utterly dumbfounded.

"David, do I have to spell it out for you? Let's make love. I need you to do this for me."