I let out a breath with a long gust. Turn back over so he can spoon me again. I burrow back against his big body. “Okay. That’s good.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be good without kids too.” I’m still thinking and eventually I give voice to my thoughts, “They tried to keep this from us, but they don’t get to win.”
“No. They don’t get to win.”
Later that morning, after breakfast, Bill and I are helping Mason round up the herd so we can take them to the farthest pasture.
I’ve been helping him a lot more than he let me at first. Not just with morning chores but with some of the otherfarm work. Not everything is easy or pleasant, but all of it is interesting and satisfying and useful.
I like the sense of accomplishing something worthwhile with the work of my hands, and I do every day now.
Because I’m thinking about this and not where I put my feet, I trip on a hole in the ground and almost fall. Mason reaches out easily and catches me around the waist before I do.
Giggling, I stabilize myself and then press against his side for a minute, grateful that he’s there. That he’s kind and careful and strong. That he’shim.
He grins at me. It looks like he’s going to say something sweet, but then he’s distracted by whatever he sees on the opposite side of me.
He stiffens dramatically, his expression changing to an urgency I’ve only occasionally seen there. Pushing me behind him, he draws the handgun he always wears when he’s working.
Bill drops his ball and growls low in his throat.
Immediately terrified, I duck behind Mason’s big body. He has taught me how to use the small gun in case of emergency, but I don’t carry one myself, so if there’s danger, I’ll be of no use. My best strategy is to not get in his way.
I can’t see around him, but I know there must be someone approaching that he sees as a threat because he’s aiming his gun as he calls out, loud and fierce, “Back off! There’s nothing here for you!”
Bill must have advanced because his fierce growl sounds farther away.
That sweet dog will attack anyone who comes after us. I know it for sure.
Never in my wildest daydreams would I have imagined what I hear next. A female voice. A familiar one. “Don’t shoot! It’s Annabelle.”
I make a squeaking sound and peek out around Mason’s shoulder.
Indeed, near the front of the cottage, is a large man I recognize as Ben, and Annabelle is partly behind him. He has his gun raised like Mason, and he’s clearly trying to keep her behind him like Mason is me, but she’s not cooperating like I am.
“Would you stop?” I hear her tell Ben in a grumpy tone. “He’s not going to hurt me. That’s my sister over there.”
“Annabelle!” I exclaim. Mason is already lowering his weapon as I start toward her. Bill goes to grab up his ball since the crisis is averted and follows too with a wagging tail. “What are you doing here?”
She’s smiling and coming toward me. She doesn’t look at all like she did in the Capitol. Her hair is braided, and she’s dressed in work boots, trousers, and a plain, oversized jacket. We hug when we reach each other, and I’m deeply relieved at the sudden turn from anxiety to joy.
By the time we pull apart, the men have approached as well. Mason has put his handgun into its holster, and Benis strapping the rifle onto his back where he evidently keeps it.
“This is my sister, Annabelle,” I tell Mason, taking his arm to draw him closer since he seems to be lurking behind me. “And Ben, her… muscle.”
Ben makes a huff of amusement at the only descriptor I can think of. “Sounds ’bout right,” he says in his low, pleasant drawl. “Nice to meet you. It’s Mason, right?”
“Yeah. Welcome to our farm.” Mason sounds nice enough but also slightly wary. Guarded. Like he doesn’t know what’s happening here.
Neither do I. “Did Chad let you come for a visit?”
“What? Oh, no way in hell would he do that.” Annabelle’s voice lowers slightly as she continues, “I left him.”
“What?”
“I walked out. Ended the marriage. I just… couldn’t take it anymore.”
