‘I believe you have something for me?’ Zeke asked.
Joe took a black leather case the size of a large book out of his desk drawer.
‘I expect you to teach her to be safe with this,’ he said as he handed it to Zeke.
‘Sarah, this is for you,’ Zeke said. He laid the box on the desk and stepped aside. ‘Open it.’
I undid the brass latch and lifted the lid of the box. Inside lay a tiny gun made of gleaming silver, with a mother-of-pearl handle. I recoiled.
‘What am I going to do with that?’ I asked.
‘You are going to learn to use it to defend yourself,’ Zeke said.
‘I will not. I refuse. You know very well that I would never shoot anyone no matter what they were doing,’ I said.
Joe Connor intervened on Zeke’s behalf. ‘Sarah, the men who are after you and Zeke are dangerous. I usually do not condone civilians carrying guns, especially women, but I think in this instance Zeke’s right. Just take the gun, Sarah. Let Zeke show you how to use it. Practice a bit. When this man who is after you is back in custody, you can put it away.’
I looked at my husband and his well-intentioned friend. Hendrik Shrader was a dangerous man. I knew that. But the question remained, would I actually be able to shoot him?
‘You’d shoot him if he was going to harm you,’ Zeke said, as if he could read my mind. ‘And I know you’d shoot him if he was going to harm me.’
He was right. With a sinking feeling, I acquiesced.
‘I forgot about this oppressive heat.’ Zeke loosened his tie, removed it, and handed it to me. I rolled it up and tucked it into my purse, next to the case which held my gun.
‘The mill is about two miles that way,’ Zeke pointed as he turned onto a tree-lined dirt road, kicking up dust in our wake. We passed pastures with weather-beaten fences and tall golden grass shimmering in the afternoon heat. Horses grazed here, their coats glistening in the sun. A man on a tractor made tracks through the grass, waving at us as we drove by. We came to a pasture surrounded by a white fence, where four horses grazed. One of the horses, a giant red beast, pricked his ears and raised his head as the car approached.
‘Prepare yourself, my love,’ he said.
‘Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,’ I said.
‘You’ve no idea,’ he said.
We drove on, following the white fence as it wove around the oak trees. The red horse broke away from the herd and ran toward us, keeping pace with our car. He kicked his heels a few times, before he lost interest in us and ran back to the others.
‘That’s Seadrift, Daphne’s horse,’ Zeke said.
We turned into a tree-lined driveway, which wove through a shady canopy for about a half mile before the house came into view – a two-story structure made of gray stone with a shale roof. A sloping flower bed abutted the driveway. Burgeoning blooms in a riot of color almost shielded the woman who squatted among them. She held a spray can and worked the beds with industry, deadheading blooms, spraying the plant when she finished, and scooting down the row. She had a rhythm and made quick work of the project. I recognized larkspur, foxglove, delphinium, sunflowers, all melded together in a vibrant burst of color.
When Zeke tooted the horn, the woman stood. When she took off her hat, a mass of auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders.
‘None of those flowers was here when I left.’ He turned off the ignition. ‘If we were to stay on this road, we’d run into the stables. All that grassland back there is where we get our hay. What Daphne doesn’t use for her horses, we sell.’
‘How much property is there?’ A fresh batch of sweat pooled between my shoulder blades and started to trickle down my back. I opened the passenger door, but the breeze did little to dispel the heat.
‘Three hundred and fifty acres,’ Zeke said. ‘I wanted to grow grapes for wine and start a vineyard – never mind. Let’s go in.’
The door burst open and a ginger-haired boy, who I guessed to be five or six, came tumbling down the stairs and running towards Zeke.
‘Uncle Zeke, Uncle Zeke!’ The boy launched himself at Zeke, who somehow managed to sweep the child up with one arm, while maintaining hold of his cane.
‘Toby!’ Zeke spun him around, hiding the pain that I was certain the activity caused. He set the boy down and leaned against the car.
‘You must be Sarah,’ Daphne said. She wiped her hands on her trousers and held one out for me to shake. She took my hand in a strong grip and shook it, then saw Zeke taking the bags out of the trunk and went to help him.
‘Give me a hug, brother-in-law,’ she said. She and Zeke hugged, and Daphne air-kissed his cheek. ‘Simon’s at the mill. He asked you to join him as soon as you got here. Why don’t you leave the bags, and I’ll get Sarah situated.’
‘We brought food, too,’ I said.
‘Perfect,’ Daphne said.
‘Uncle Zeke, I’m getting a pony.’ The boy still clambered over Zeke, who was taking our suitcases, my typewriter, and the box of food out of the trunk.
‘And Father?’ Zeke asked.
‘Running errands today,’ Daphne said. An unspoken current passed between my husband and Daphne, words unsaid, but their meaning conveyed nonetheless.
‘Toby, your uncle has a sore leg. He’s also trying to carry things. Please quit climbing all over him.’
‘I can help. Sometimes ponies carry things. I don’t know if they carry suitcases, but my pony will do anything I ask,’ the boy said.
‘That’s marvelous, old boy. I think you’d be great on a pony,’ Zeke said. He climbed the stone steps and set the box of food next to our suitcases on the front porch. When he walked back down the stairs, Daphne noticed the limp.
‘Oh dear,’ Daphne said.
‘I know,’ I answered, speaking just loud enough for her to hear.
The three of us stood for a moment, watching Toby run in circles as he pretended to ride an imaginary pony.
‘I should really go to Simon. You don’t mind if I leave you?’ Zeke asked.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.
‘I’ll show her around,’ Daphne said.
‘See you soon.’ He kissed my cheek, got in the car, and drove away.
‘Miss.’ The boy came up to me now, as if noticing me for the first time. ‘Do you like ponies? I’m getting one of my own.’
‘He’s not getting one until he can muck out a stall,’ Daphne said. ‘Toby, say hello to Sarah. She’s your aunt.’
Toby skewed up his face, processing this bit of news. In a brilliant flash of understanding, his face broke into a big smile.
‘That’s super.’ He took my hand.
‘Sarah is going to be here awhile, darling. Go find Granna, would you? She is waiting to read to you.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the boy said. He waved at me and ran off.
‘What a bright child,’ I said.
‘He’s a handful,’ Daphne said. ‘Would you like to go inside and freshen up,