Sienna watched the four obviously bored mercenaries lounging on the front steps of the estate. One had picked up a dried piece of grape stalk, and was sitting on the lowest step hunched over, digging a hole in the dirt with it. Two more were parked on the veranda railing, talking and laughing. Lucille was arguing with the fourth soldier, a Sergeant Paxton who stood in the doorway, one hand on the butt of a huge side arm jammed into a black open-top holster on his belt. Her voice pierced the doorway as Lucille raised her tone.

"It must be started today, sergeant! The crops will not wait out your emergency. If the grapes are not picked now, they will rot on the vine. At least let me put one picker on the fields so that we will not lose everything. You can send one of your men with us to ride the picker. It will be in sight of the walls at all times."

The sergeant shifted his stance uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. "My orders were to secure this estate and keep everyone off the roads. I can't let anyone off the property until my orders change, Miss. You'll just have to wait it out with everyone else. We don't even have an accounting of where all your people are yet."

Lucille glared at the trooper and stamped one of her size five feet. "The picker only seats five people including the driver. How much of a risk is that? I will go myself, my ten-year-old son can drive it, and I can use two other girls from the house to help pick. At least let us gather enough to start a pressing. Just the two acres near the back wall." She hesitated then added, "I will give each of your men a bottle of wine from our stocks if you will agree."

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"Where is this picker?" asked the officer.

"It is in the equipment barn against the rear wall, outside. Your men have already checked it, sergeant."

"Oh. Yeah. Which one is it?"

Lucille pointed to the rear of the house. "It is the one with the covered wagon and open floor. The truck, it rides over the furrow, so that the plants come down the center between the benches in the wagon. That way the workers can pick the grapes while seated." An exasperated look crossed her face. "The one with the high cab on the left, where the driver sits."

The soldier with the stick picked up his head. "Aw, let her go pick her grapes, Paxton. I'll ride shotgun. There's nuthin' else to do 'round here."

The sergeant rubbed his chin, glancing distractedly at the outer gate and the six men stationed there. "All right, but just the rear field, two hours. Get your people together, and come back here. I'll check you out the front gate. Private Pickfield will go with you--you hear that, Pickfield? Two hours. Then you herd their asses back in here pronto! You get that?"

"I got it, Sarge."

\Lucille thanked the sergeant and turned toward Sienna. "Go get my son and Gilda, meet me back here."