He laid his hand over hers. "I didn't think my loss would matter to you. You're a special lady, Meg. You don't look like you're aware of that this morning, but you are." He stood. "Once word gets out about Mama Warner, we'll have more company than we can shake a stick at. I'll try and keep as many as I can out of here because you sure don't look like you need company today."

"Thank you, Robert."

He walked from the room, and Meg took the frail hand into her own. She leaned over Mama Warner. "Can you hear me, or are you too close to heaven to hear us anymore? I feel like I'm in hell."

She studied the pale features that time had lined with wisdom. "You knew Clay wasn't a coward. If you'd told me, I wouldn't have believed you, but he showed me in so many ways. The irony is that he's the only one among us who isn't a coward. I think that's why we all hated him so much. He is exactly what we believed ourselves to be."

Lucian had a strong urge to punch Clay in the jaw. Not out of hatred, but out of love. He wanted to knock some sense into his brother.

In the days after the attack, Clay took his meals on the porch-alone-and spent his time walking through the fields of corn stalks, pulling weeds.

He never raised the shutters on the shed. He didn't talk about his past or the future. He didn't talk at all unless the twins asked him a question, and then he discouraged them by giving them an abrupt answer.

Sometimes, Lucian would see him staring in the direction of the Warner farm. For long moments, he wouldn't move. Then he'd look toward the shed, shove his hands into his pockets, bow his head, and begin walking through the fields of growing corn.

Lucian walked along the row of com until his shadow fell across Clay, who was kneeling beside a corn stalk. "I was thinking, next year we could rent those oxen to help us plow the fields, maybe take in an extra acre or two."

Clay tugged a weed out of the soil. "Whatever you think is best." Standing, he removed his hat and squinted against the sunlight. "Once we harvest the crops, I'll be moving on, so any time you want we can go into town and have the deed to the farm put in your name."

"What about the monument?"

"It's served its purpose."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Clay looked toward the shed. "It was never meant to be more than shadows of a dream."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Clay squinted into the distance. "Do you see that?"

Lucian followed his gaze. Black clouds billowed up from the earth. "Looks like smoke."

"Joe, Josh!" Clay yelled.

The boys stopped hoeing and rushed to his side. "Go to the barn and get some blankets. It looks like

Sam Johnson's field is on fire. Hurry."

"You're not gonna held put it out, are you?" Lucian asked.

"How will he make it through the winter if he loses his crop?"

Lucian jerked his hat off his head. "God damm it! Not one of them would come over here and piss on

our crops if they were on fire."

"I can't help the way they are, but I'll be damned before I become like them."

Clay began running across the field. Lucian followed. He was beginning to think his older brother was the

most aggravating man he knew.

The twins caught up with them, (heir faces filled with exuberance. Clay yanked a blanket away Josh."Don't get too close to the fire and don't breathe in the smoke."Against his better judgment, Lucian took the blanket that Joe offered him.By the time they arrived, neighbors were already pitching in, beating back the fire. Lucian took his place beside his brothers, slapping the blanket against the bright orange flames. In their eagerness, the twins

kept getting too close to the fire, and he and Clay continually dragged them back to safety.

Lucian glanced at Clay's blackened sweaty face. He probably looked as grimy, but he felt good. It had

been long time since he'd felt as though they were a family, united in a cause. He wished now that he had

helped Clay with his side of the barn. His past regrets were many. He was determined to have fewer in

the future.

The flames before them died a quiet death, and Clay rubbed each boy's head. "Good job."

They began walking over the charred field. Sam Johnson was shaking hands with his neighbors and thanking them for their help. He came to an abrupt halt when his eyes fell on Clay. Clay met his gaze.

"Clay, your hand's bleedin'," Josh said.

Clay glanced at the blood seeping through the bandage. "It'll be all right. Come on, we need to get home

now."

In long strides, Lucian set out to follow his brothers.

"Lucian?"

Stopping and turning, he stared at Sam. Sam extended his hand. "I wanted to thank you for helping me out here."

Lucian ignored his hand. "Don't thank me. If it'd been left up to me, we wouldn't have come, but Clay's

the head of the family, and he was worried you might have a hard winter if you lost your crops."

Sam ducked his head, his face turning beet red. "Look, things got out of hand the other night He wasn't supposed to get hurt. We were just going to frighten him."

"You didn't do anything to stop them from hurting him though, did you?"

Sam snapped his head up. "I didn't see you out there stopping us either."

Lucian took a menacing step forward and Sam flinched. "No, you didn't, but I won't make that mistake

again. You and your friends show up on our land again with flour sacks over your heads, and you'll have to put knives through four of us."

Meg was grateful that Mama Warner had drifted closer to heaven and was unaware of all that had happened the last night Meg saw Clay. The knowledge would have broken the older woman's heart.

It very nearly broke Meg's.Each day she sat in the rocker beside the bed and read The Scarlet Letter aloud. She could not read thewords without thinking of the puckered pink scar that Clay bore upon his chest. The army had hurt him.The people in the area had hurt him. Yet she knew she'd hurt him most of all.

"Meg?"

She glanced up and gave Robert a warm smile.

"You have company. The Holland twins."

Rising from the rocker, she set the book on the table and slipped past Robert. She hurried into the

kitchen. She'd never been so happy to see anyone in her life as she wrapped her arms around both boys.

"I've missed you," Meg said as she planted a kiss on each boy's forehead.

"Yes, ma'am, we been missin' you, too," Josh said.

"Do you want a piece of pic? I made it fresh this morning."

"No, ma'am, we didn't come here for ourselves. We came about Clay."

"How's his hand?"

"It ain't bandaged no more, but he don't never use it He just keeps it buried in his pocket like he's

ashamed of it or something. Thought maybe you could come talk to him-"

Shaking her head, she stepped back. "I can't."

"But, Miz Meg, he just walks up one row of corn and down the other all day long. We know he said

some powerful ugly words the night he was hurt, but that was plain talkin', Miz Meg. Not Clay. He didn't

mean none of it. Wish you'd come back and let him apologize."

Placing her hands on their shoulders, she felt the tears sting the back of her eyes. They had such earnest faces. "I wish it were that simple, but it isn't. Nothing would be solved if I went to your farm. Things would only worsen."

The boys released baleful sighs as their shoulders slouched. "Reckon we'll mosey on then," Josh said.

The boys shuffled to the door.

"Would you like to take a pie with you?" Meg asked.

"No, ma'am, but thank you. People just ain't eatin' much around our house these days."

When they disappeared through the door, Meg slumped into a chair, buried her face in her hands, and fought back the tears. She heard Robert's footsteps echo through the room. Why wasn't he in the fields where he belonged?

"Meg, I know this is none of my business-"