Chapter One

It was the bells that first alerted her to the presence of the stranger—goats' bells jangling, the sound carrying clearly through the desert night. Amalia barely heard. She bent her head over her book and continued reading aloud. "When I came home from this journey, I contemplated with great pleasure the fruitfulness of that valley, and the pleasantness of the situation; the security from storms. . ."

There it was again, clearer this time. She looked up, Defoe forgotten. Her eyes, too tired for someone only in her forties, met those of her younger sister Carina, and they shared an unspoken question. Was it a coyote, or something more dangerous?

Before either of them could speak, they heard the bells again, this time accompanied by the frantic braying of a donkey. Amalia jumped to her feet, dumping her knitting to the floor, and turned off the battery-powered lamp. Carina reached in the dark for the oil lantern and lit it with a battered lighter she kept in her pocket. "I’ll be out in a minute," she whispered.

Amalia grabbed her shotgun and stepped outside. She looked around and nervously ran a hand through her short, fading hair. The night was clear and the waning moon gave plenty of light to see by, but after the luxury of an electric light, her eyes needed to adjust to the night. The goats had calmed down, but now she heard a commotion from the chicken coop. Hens were always edgy when they sensed a predator, so maybe it was just a coyote, after all. She slipped the safety off her gun and started walking in the direction of the sound.

She covered the distance with the lithe movements of a much younger woman, one accustomed to walking everywhere, but before she could enter the chicken run, a shadow emerged from the open door of the coop. Amalia sucked in her breath. This was no coyote. She raised the gun. "Drop it and stay where you are."

The figure gasped in surprise and dropped the squawking chicken. He made a slight motion but didn’t run or speak.

"Who are you? Come here where I can see you."

The shadow swayed slightly.

"I said come here," Amalia repeated. "If you think I'm scared to shoot a man, you're wrong."

At a sound behind her, Amalia wheeled about in panic. Did the thief have a partner? No, it was only Carina, long pale hair flying, pistol drawn, running to join her. Amalia turned back to her prisoner, only to find him gone—loping toward the creek with an odd limping gait, gasping for breath with every step. Amalia cursed and took off after him. A man who knew she had chickens, goats, and a donkey was not a man she could let get away.

She didn't have far to run. The man stumbled over a clump of weeds and fell with a wrenching scream that would’ve made a gentler person than Amalia cringe. She trotted over with a snort of satisfaction and leveled the gun at his chest. "Don't even think of trying anything."

The man nodded, gasping as if too close to the brink of death to try any tricks. He attempted to speak, but only a dry rasping noise escaped his lips. He tried to cough, but gave a little cry instead and collapsed in a tearless whimper.

Carina caught up to them, bringing the lantern, and she held it up so they could get a better look. The stranger didn't appear dangerous. He young and lanky, of indeterminate race, not bad looking but pale underneath his toffee-colored skin. He flinched at the light. "Please help me."

Carina, always quick with her sympathy, took a step closer. "He’s bleeding."

Amalia was less impressed by the blood than by his clothes, with their iconic brass buttons and service patches. "Good. Maybe he'll bleed to death and save us the trouble of shooting him. Can't you see he’s wearing a Guard uniform? I bet he's not alone. The bastards are here to rob us."

"No," the man gasped. "I'm alone. I swear."

It was all the same to Amalia. "Then we need to kill you so you don't go back and lead them here." She had relaxed her grip on the shotgun, but now she leveled it at his chest.

"Amalia, no. He's harmless."

"Harmless as a snake."

The man squirmed. "I'm a deserter. They'll kill me if I go back. Why would I betray you?"

"He's right," Carina said. "There's no need to kill him."

"You believe him?" Amalia was incredulous. "Even if he's telling the truth, what are we supposed to do? Maybe he won't go back and tell the Guard, but he'll tell someone, sooner or later. I don't like this either, but it has to be done."

The man struggled to his knees. "Please. If you're going to kill me, at least help me stand so I can die like a man. And could I maybe have a drink of water first? I've been in the desert three days and had no water since yesterday. I don't want to die thirsty."

Carina turned on Amalia. "We can't do this." She set the safety on her pistol and shoved it into the waistband of her pants. "Is this how we were raised to treat people?"

"We were raised in another time, Carina."

"Well, these are pretty bad times if we can’t give a drink of water to a man who is hurt. Things aren't so bad we can't at least clean his wounds."

"I'd be grateful forever if you helped me." The man turned pleading eyes on Amalia. "I can help you with your farm. You won't be sorry."

"We don't need any help around here. We don't need anyone."

"That's just not true." Carina kicked the ground in exasperation. "You know, maybe if someone had treated your husband with kindness when he deserted—"

Amalia sucked in her breath.

"If someone had taken care of him, maybe—"

"Shut up!" Amalia now looked as likely to shoot Carina as the stranger. "How can you compare. . . oh, just shut up."

"Fine. Go on and shoot him, then. What do I care?" She set the lantern on the ground. "You'll need this so you can see to dig the grave. I'm sure you'd have wanted someone to do as much for Alan." She affected a toss of her head and stalked off into the darkness.

Amalia turned back to her captive. She was quivering and breathing as heavily as if she had been running. Her palms were wet—too wet to get a good grip on the trigger. She stared deep into the man's eyes, then turned away in disgust. "Wait here," she said. "I'll go find you something you can use as a crutch."

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