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“Around.” Harry toed his boot into the dirt. He didn’t want to tell the truth.

“You need to stop running around without me. You might get hurt.”

“But you told me that nobody could see me with you.”

“That’s right.” Darwin stepped real close to him and squinted. “That means you should stay here.”

“Inside the mine? All day?” Harry shook his head. “No. No. No. I can’t do that. I can’t stay inside the mine all day.” He grabbed the sides of his head. “No. No. No! Don’t keep
Harry in the dark mine. No. No. No.” He felt like he couldn’t breathe and started pulling on his hair. Tears burned his eyes and he couldn’t see. He stumbled backward to the entrance. “No. No.
No!
”

Darwin tackled him and covered his mouth with a dirty hand. “Be quiet, you idiot!”

Harry bit his brother and yelled, “I am not an idiot. I am not!” He kicked and punched and kicked some more.

Darwin backed away, his eyes a fiery red. “Harry, it’s time for you to be quiet. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Harry pulled his legs up to his chest and curled into a ball. Why was Brother being so mean? “Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me,” he chanted.

A curse word echoed off the walls. “Oh, stop it. I’m not gonna hurt you. I need your help, remember?”

Harry nodded and relaxed just a bit.

“Just don’t go into town around people, got it?”

“I won’t go, I promise. There was a mean man there and he pushed me into the ground.” Harry decided not to tell Darwin about his nice friends. After he helped Brother find his stuff, maybe Brother would go to Mexico by himself.

“A mean man? Was he following you?”

Another nod.

“Was he watching you?”

Again a vigorous nod.

“When did you go to town, Harry?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It was a long time ago.” Harry didn’t know if Darwin believed him or not.

“Doggonit, Harry. I bet he’s after our gold.” Darwin paced the front of the mine where they’d made camp. He pointed at Harry. “Do not go back into town for any reason.”

“I won’t.”

“Not ever.”

“Okay.” Harry crossed his fingers behind his back. He wouldn’t ever tell Brother about his nice friends. They didn’t live in town, so it wasn’t a lie. “Okay. Okay.”

“I think we need to speed up our plan a bit. . . .” His brother mumbled some more and came closer and patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. Let’s get you some food. And maybe you can remember where you moved my stuff.”

Brother was being really nice again. Harry liked it when he was nice. It helped him feel good and safe. “Okay. I remember moving it.”

“Good. Good.”

But a lot of stuff was fuzzy in his mind. What would Darwin do if Harry couldn’t find it?

A shudder shook him.

He put a hand to his head. The sooner he remembered, maybe the sooner Darwin would leave and Harry could be with the nice people.

Harry watched Darwin open a can of beans and set the can in the fire to warm. He thought again of Mrs. Rolleri’s ravioli and how nice she’d been to him. Mrs. Rolleri had a whole lot of children, but she was always so nice. She reminded him of Ma. Ma had always been nice. Smelled good, too. Harry missed that. Darwin never smelled good.

Miss Lillian smelled good, but she smelled different than Ma. Ma smelled like flowers. She loved flowers, and she constantly grew them and taught Harry about them. The memory made him smile. Ma loved roses, and now Miss Lillian and Jimmy took care of the roses.

Memories of his mother made Harry feel better. Ma never
yelled at him or called him stupid. She was ever so happy when he remembered the names of her flowers. Miss Lillian was going to teach him to read, and he was going to teach her the names of the flowers. He smiled to himself. He liked it when he could help people.

“What’s got you lookin’ all happy?” Darwin asked.

Harry knew he couldn’t tell Darwin, so he shrugged. “Just like bein’ happy.”

His brother looked at him for a minute, then pulled out a tin of crackers. “We won’t have to live like this for much longer, Harry. As soon as you can remember where you put the gold, I can get us a place where we can eat proper meals.”

“At a table with real dishes. Like we had when Ma was here.”

“I suppose,” Darwin replied. “Ma did set a nice table.”

Harry nodded, pleased that Darwin didn’t seem quite as angry as he had been earlier. “I think about Ma a lot. She was good.”

Darwin handed Harry some crackers. “She was good. She sure didn’t deserve what she got out of life.”

“She was happy.” Harry ate one of the crackers and tried to remember his mother’s smile. “Do you remember her?”

Darwin looked at him like he might start calling Harry names again, but after a minute or so he shrugged. “Hard not to remember Ma. She had a hard life. Pa and me . . . we were no good. Never were any good. Her kin weren’t any good, either. But Ma was a lady.” Darwin’s gaze went to the fire. “She never had much, but she did her best with what she had.”

“She liked flowers.”

Brother’s face looked sad. “Yes, she liked flowers.”

“I like flowers, too.”

Darwin checked the beans and pulled them off the fire. “Men
don’t bother with flowers, Harry. That’s somethin’ only women do.” He drew a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t want you talkin’ about it anymore. Ma’s dead and gone. There’s no sense in talkin’ about the dead.”

Harry frowned, confused by his brother’s words. “But she wasn’t always dead.”

“That’s a stupid thing to say. Of course she wasn’t always dead.” Darwin began to eat his share of beans from the can.

Harry knew that when his brother had eaten half, he’d give the can over to him to finish. It hurt to have Darwin tell him that what he said was stupid. The nice people didn’t mind when he talked, but Darwin and the other people . . . mean people . . . they always made him feel bad.

“I like remembering Ma.” Harry looked at Darwin and then popped a cracker into his mouth.

Later Darwin watched Harry as he slept. Sometimes he felt like his father had—that Harry should have died at birth. He’d almost died a couple of times when he was a baby, but Ma caught on real fast that there were things Harry couldn’t do like other babies. She made sure he was safe and kept him at her side almost constantly.

It was hard to admit, but Darwin wondered even now if it wouldn’t be better for Harry to die. There was no place for Harry in this world. He couldn’t work a decent job, and he certainly didn’t have a cunning mind to steal or cheat for his living. No woman would ever marry him, and no man would want him for a friend.

Darwin had made Ma a promise to take care of Harry.

The reminder flickered through his mind but was quickly
followed up with another thought. If he ended Harry’s life—he would be taking care of Harry. No one would ever be able to hurt Harry again. Better still, if heaven was a real place like Ma thought, then Harry would get to be with her again. He’d be happy.

The fire was dying out, so Darwin threw another log on. The damp chill of the mine seemed to seep into his bones. Harry never seemed to notice. He’d been so happy to get away from Uncle John that he never grumbled.

Darwin shook his head. Harry wasn’t such a bad sort, but he was completely useless. There would never be anything Harry could do that would benefit Darwin, and that alone gave credence to his thoughts of murder.

It wouldn’t really be murder, would it? It was more like putting a sick animal out of its misery. Or better yet, killing the runt of a litter because you knew it would never survive. Harry would never survive without him, so it was more like a mercy that Darwin would end his life and set him free from the pain of this world. A world that would never accept Harry as he was.

Sliding into his bedroll, Darwin couldn’t shake the thought from his mind. Always before, he’d thought of paying someone to take Harry off his hands, but in truth this would be the better way. He would get Harry to figure out where he’d put the gold, and then he’d see to it that Harry had an easy death—something without fear or pain. After all, Harry was his brother.

The heat of August was upon them and things were drying out. Too much. They hadn’t had any significant rain since April, just a sporadic shower here and there, but never enough to make a difference. Woody lifted his Stetson to look at the
grove. They’d been hand-watering, but it was a tedious job on top of everything else. Especially since Lillian’s announcement a week ago. He’d tried to remain calm and assure her that everything was fine. Encouraged her that she’d done the right thing in telling him, but there was nothing to worry about.

But there
was
a reason to worry. His wife had been murdered and they still didn’t know who did it or why. And Lillian
had
seen someone.

He’d had his men check the entire farm, taking precious time away from their duties. The men were thorough and just as concerned as Woody, but all they found was one suspicious boot print and a cigar butt near the main road. Nothing else. But nothing else was really needed. Woody didn’t smoke cigars, and his workers couldn’t afford them. Someone had been there, just as Lillian had suspected, and they needed to be careful. That someone could be the same man who killed Rebecca.

Woody tried not to appear worried about the matter. He didn’t want to get Mrs. Goodman and Lillian worked up when none of them could be sure that the observer was definite trouble. Most of all, he didn’t want to scare Jimmy. The boy had endured far more than he should ever have had to, and Woody was now convinced it was fear that kept Jimmy mute.

He spoke to his crew and was glad when one of the men brought up the idea of posting a guard. At first Woody had his men taking turns to be on watch twenty-four hours a day, but with the drought so fierce, he needed every man to help haul water. And even with their help, things were starting to look bad.

Lord, we need rain. And we need protection. I’m trying not
to fear, but I do feel caution. Lillian was correct,
someone has been watching the place. I feel it. The
men feel it. We know that You are the real
Protector. Please give me the strength to do what needs
to be done and to face whatever comes.

His open communication with the Lord was coming with greater ease now. And the burden of grief that had weighed down his chest for all this time was at least lifting. Well, maybe
changing
was a better term. The sadness over losing Rebecca had somehow transformed into a determination to find her killer. Woody owed her that much, especially given that no one else seemed compelled to learn the truth. No, everyone else believed
he
was the killer, and they didn’t care about the truth or the pain they’d caused.

At least Lillian believed him.

Thoughts of his son’s nanny brought warmth to his middle. Her green eyes were so expressive. Her smile so pleasant—her nature so kind. For the first time since losing Rebecca, Woody actually found himself longing for a companion. Always before, grief and guilt had kept him from even considering such things, but Lillian brought new life to him and to Jimmy. Especially Jimmy. Earlier she had asked Woody if he had a photograph of Jimmy’s mother that he could give his son. She expressed how precious her locket photos of her parents were and how Jimmy needed something that he could hold close to remind him of his mother. Woody marveled at her insight and genuine concern for Jimmy. She didn’t approach her position there as just a job but firmly positioned herself as part of the family. Her enthusiasm for life had begun to chip away at the wall Woody had put in place, and her gentle kindness was healing their wounds.

Lillian’s intellect was also amazing. It especially came to light when they were studying the Scriptures together. He enjoyed hearing her thoughts on the passages they read. There was a smart brain in that pretty head. He smiled. Lillian was
quite pretty, and he found himself thinking about her more and more. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember clearly just how bad things had been before she’d come. What did that mean?