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along time, as long as she could. In many ways she was stronger than I was. You have her strength, Taylor, but I hope I haven’t cheated you of that faith she had in the beginning. It was a good thing. I’ve been thinking about that lately, and I’m going to work on it. I promise.”
    I didn’t like to talk about Mom, especially not when I was about to cry. So I chewed my lip and pictured the happy times, with all of us together. That helped. Soon I regained control.
    Dad sat up and patted me on the knee. “Well, I don’t know why I’m being like this. It’s almost your birthday. Look at the sky. The stars are out and we’ve got the world on a string, don’t we, kiddo?” He pushed himself onto his feet and told me to relax while he cleaned up.
    Before long, he had gathered the utensils for washing and headed down the embankment to the lake. I rested my head on my sleeping bag and studied the sky. Out here, the universe was brilliant, and it was all ours. Dad was right: We had the world on a string. I thought of a song. It was one of his songs, not mine. The tune stuck in my mind, and I started to hum. Then I started to sing softly, “Don’t you love her madly? Wanna be her daddy? Don’t you love her as she’s walkin’ out the—”
    “Well, if it isn’t Xena, the warrior princess! And she sings such an appropriate song.”
    I jumped to my feet and spun just in time to see Chad and Will from the gas station crunching through the brush next to our truck. Will carried a shotgun.
    The breech was not open.

CHAPTER

FOUR
     
    “WHERE’S YOUR SHOTGUN, BEAUTIFUL?” Chad walked toward the fire. “If I recall our earlier encounter, you were all about shotguns. Will brought his. We thought we could compare.”
    I looked toward the lake. Dad was nowhere in sight. Something in my stomach turned hot and began to tumble. I took a deep breath. “Hey, what are y’all doing out here?” I flashed a big smile and forced myself to think. I glanced at the ground near Dad’s sleeping bag to see if he’d brought his pistol from the truck. If it was there, I couldn’t make it out in the dark. The shotgun, which had not proved terribly useful so far that day, was still in the bed of the truck.
    “We followed you, of course. Heaven knows, one has to make a special effort to get to know people out here in the sticks. In any event, I’ve not been able to get my mind off you since our last encounter.”
    I looked at Will. He’d only been there for a minute and a half, but he already seemed to be losing his focus. A field rat or something skittered through the nearby brush. He followed it with his eyes. He didn’t seem to think any more than he talked.
    “Why don’t you just sit down by the fire and make yourself comfortable?” Chad nodded toward the sleeping bags. “Where’s Daddy? Out shooting dinner?” He chewed on a reed as he talked. I remembered the match that he had waggled in his mouth back at the gas station and wondered if he had some sort of oral security thing going on, like a dog that’s afraid to approach a human without picking up its favorite toy.
    Chad looked toward the lake. “Here he is!” He waved. “Hey, Pops, we’re back!”
    My father’s shadowy figure rose from behind a boulder at the edge of the campsite. In his right hand was a skillet. In the skillet were our steak knives, forks, and metal plates. Though the light was dim, I could see the muscles in his arms and chest, flexed tight against his olive T-shirt. “What do you fellas want here?” His voice was as hard as the rocks around him, and I wished more than anything that we were home.
    Will’s eyes focused on the knives in the skillet. He pointed the shotgun at Dad.
    “Well, that’s not a very hospitable greeting, Mr. . . .”Chad cocked his head. “I don’t believe I caught your name back at the gas station, sir.”
    “Roger Pasbury.” He turned to Will. “If you’re not looking to shoot someone, you ought to point that