"Where's your pa?"

The words were scratched and hoarse, like a west wind raked across dry brush.

Wix looked up, letting go of the handles of the horse-drawn plow. He was panting, drenched with sweat, clumps of dirt on his forearms and pant legs turned to mud. He stared up at the speaker, while Willow, attached to the plow and unawares, kept walking, dragging the equipment with her.

The stranger was saddled atop a white horse with speckled spots of brown all along its coat, like freckles. He wore a long duster and a broad hat. The positioning of the hat relative to the high sun, and the way the stranger peered down at him, eclipsed almost his entire face in darkness. Only his chin, spotted with a few flecks of stubble, was visible, jutting out from the shadows.

He had two six-guns, one holstered at either hip. The gunmetal was shiny and polished-looking, glinting in the light. Likewise, the sharp points of his spurs sparkled in the sun.

Wix squinted up at the man. He was breathing hard through his mouth, trying to catch his breath. He tasted dry dust, kicked up and lingering in the air, and fought the urge to cough, swallowing instead. "What you want with him?"

He was surprised Kedrik, wherever he was, hadn't managed to approach the man already. He seemed to keep a hawk-like eye on his belongings at all times, farmland included.

Wix glanced around. He was alone in the field. Neither Kedrik or Jenny were anywhere in sight.

When Wix turned back the stranger, it seemed that neither he nor the horse had moved scarcely at all. Even to lean back or re-position in the saddle. The man seemed to be fixed on him, though his face was still obscured by the curtain of shadow.

"That's between your father and I," the saddled stranger said.

There was something dangerous about this man. Wix knew it, though he couldn't explain why. Strangers didn't wander onto Kedrik's land like this. And though he claimed to know Kedrik, he had yet to speak his name.

"How do you know him?" Wix asked, probing.

The stranger tilted his head. A very slight gesture. "I know not what name he goes by now. But I know him as he once was. When he was a freelance Hunter for the Federation." He was quiet for a second, as if gauging Wix's response to this. "I come a long a way, kid. And my business is urgent. If you would go and fetch him for me, I would be much obliged."

Wix made another glance around the place. Kedrik and Jenny were still nowhere to be seen. The horse-drawn plow had tipped over in the dirt, and Willow was standing still in the dirt, batting the occasional fly with her tail.

"I'll be right back, mister," Wix said.

The stranger made a slight tip of the hat, just before Wix turned his back on him and began to walk back across the field toward the house. As he walked, he heard the hooved clip-clop of the man's horse as the followed a ways behind.

The heels of Wix's boots left stamps in the dry dirt. He tipped back his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm, inadvertently spreading a muddy film across his forehead and the side of his face.

The farmhouse wasn't much to look at, but it kept the rain out. It was small enough that Jenny had to sleep in her own cabin.

Wix leapt up onto the porch, leaving dirty prints where he landed. He took off his hat as he opened the door. The hinges moaned and whined, in that order.

The door opened into the main room. There was a small table for meals in the middle, and a fireplace off in the corner, which doubled as a stove.

There were only two other rooms in the house. Wix's bedroom, and Kedrik's bedroom. Both were so small that they could hardly be called rooms. Closets maybe. But they each had their own space. Wix could close himself off from Kedrik, have time away from him. And thank the gods for that.

Jenny was sitting on a chair next to the stove, where a low fire glowed. She was rocking in her seat, eyes closed, and speaking quickly in hushed tones. She took little notes of paper and dropped them into the fire, whispering as she went.

Jenny was the only other farmhand Kedrik had on payroll, though Wix wasn’t convinced this was an entirely accurate description of her position. Though she did tend to the farm work, she also cooked and cleaned, washed and mended Wix and Kedrik’s clothes, and occasionally liked to rustle Wix's hair, give him some words of encouragement, and kiss him on the forehead. Though that last part she usually didn’t do while Kedrik was around.

She wasn’t fat, or homely, but there was a certain solidity to her frame that could have been seen as less than feminine. Unlike Kedrik, she was straight-backed, with a strong, almost regal posture, even when she’d been out working half the day. A number of wrinkles and lines scrawled her forehead and cheeks, giving her a scratched and weathered look, making her at times appear older than she actually was.

Wix stood in the main room, hesitant to interrupt Jenny in her sacred act of prayer. But he didn't wait long. Within moments, she ceased her whispers and opened her eyes to look at him.

"Dallying again, Wixton?" Though there was some hint of rebuke in her tone, her eyes were soft, kind, and smiling. "The Federation hasn't accepted you, yet. You are still your father's son, and under his care. It's your responsibility to do as he says."

"There's a strange man here," Wix said.

Jenny frowned. "Does he have a name?"

"He didn't say," Wix said, realizing that he hadn't bothered to ask. "He just said that he knew my pa. From his Hunter days."

Jenny stood so quickly her chair almost toppled back onto the floor. She had to balance on the tips of her toes to snatch the double-barreled shotgun mounted on the wall above a cabinet. She opened one of the drawers, grabbed two shells, and loaded the gun.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

She leaned, peering through the window at the mounted stranger. A flash of recognition seemed to cross her features. "Your father's out in the barn. Go and fetch him." She stepped toward the door. "Come."

Wix followed her.

She shoved open the door and stepped out onto the porch, her shotgun leveled at the stranger, her finger pressed against the trigger.

The man, on his horse, was only twenty or so paces away from the porch. There was a moment of silence as they both silently regarded each other. Jenny staring at him down the length of the shotgun's barrels.

"Ma'am," the stranger said calmly, breaking the silence. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded to her.

"Sir," Jenny said, but Wix could tell her nerves were taut. "What are you waiting for? Going and fetch him, Wix. Go."

Wix came to himself with a jolt. He had been frozen in the open doorway, transfixed by the scene. Before now, he'd only ever seen her hold a gun when butchering farm animals.

The stranger's arrival had turned into, by Wix's estimation, the most interesting thing that had ever happened on this farm.

"Now, Wix."

He stepped through the doorway, letting the weighted door slide shut with a bang. He leapt off the porch and made a running start toward the barn, down the worn dirt path that cut across clumps of shrubbery and grass.

Kedrik was indeed in the barn, replacing some of the boards to Dusty's stall. He'd managed to push against a couple of the worn beams recently, to the point of breaking. Yesterday they'd opened the barn door to find the horse wandering where he oughtn't be, almost managing to flee out through the open door.

The barn had a hastily constructed appearance, with no paint or finish to speak of. Like everything else Kedrik built, it was composed of old, cheap wood. The man had a way of the most out of shoddy materials. Always seemed to be able to get the job done with them.

Kedrik stood from a crouching position as Wix entered the barn. His eyes flared, but then he seemed to register the urgency in Wix's face.

"There's a man here to see you," Wix said.

Kedrik stomped over and peered through the cracked barn door. He stared a while. A long time, with no visible change in his expression that Wix could see.

"Stay here," Kedrik said. "Don't leave this barn, you hear me?"

Before Wix could protest, Kedrik had already slipped through the door and was on his way back toward the house. He walked slow, boots scratching up little contrails of dust in his wake.

Wix leaned forward, peering through the crack of the slightly open barn door.

Behind him, toward the back of the barn, one of the cows groaned loudly, perhaps expecting that Wix was there to feed it something. He ignored the sound.

Kedrik and the stranger were talking. Kedrik was standing a good fifteen paces from the man. If the stranger tried anything, Jenny would have a clear shot.

As if in response to something Kedrik was saying, the stranger slowly raised his arms, showing that he wasn't about to reach for his guns. His hat bobbed as he spoke. His horse took a couple steps back, and snorted.

Kedrik took a step forward, his arms folded in front of him. He was speaking again. Wix couldn't hear a word of it.

The stranger seemed exasperated. He grabbed the reins with one hand, and moved as if to trot around Kedrik. And was it Wix's imagination, or was the stranger trying to move in his direction?

Wix cocked his head, intrigued. He'd done as Kedrik had asked for two reasons. Firstly, because he was his father. Secondly, because it hadn't seemed to be any of his business. But he was starting to get the feeling that maybe this wasn't the case. That perhaps this involved him, somehow. His palms were braced against the wood of the door, and he was struggling against an impulse to shove it open, and to rush out toward the house. What stopped him, he wasn't sure. Fear? But he wasn't actually afraid, was he?

Jenny was the first to react to the stranger's movements. She cried out, gesturing with the shotgun, freezing him and the horse in its tracks.

Kedrik unfolded his arms as he pointed a finger up at the man. He yelled something that Wix couldn't put together. From this distance, it just sounded like noise.

The stranger pulled back on the reins, turning the horse. He and Kedrik seemed to stare at each other for a long time. Then he tipped his hat, before turning the horse til his back was to them. Light flashed on one of his spurs as he kicked his heels against the horse's side and took off at a gallop, tossing up clumps of dirt in his wake.

As he rode off, Kedrik followed a few steps after him down the path, watching to make sure he wouldn't turn back. He stayed there for a good minute or so, standing in front of the house.

The stranger stopped once, halfway off the property, to turn and look back at Kedrik one last time. Then he clicked his heels, and he was off again. And gone.

Wix gasped, suddenly aware that he'd been holding his breath for some time. He leaned against the wall of the barn with one hand, still peering through the crack in the door. Then he grit his teeth, shoved open the door and headed toward the house.

Kedrik had begun to walk back along the path, his face a mask of tense lines. Jenny, meanwhile, looked exhausted. The shotgun dangled from one of her hands by the grip. They were sharing a look between them when Wix reached the porch.

"What was that about?" Wix asked.

"None of your business," Kedrik said, still looking at Jenny. It was as if the two were communicating with looks alone. A line of communication that Wix didn't have access to.

"Oh?" Wix said.

Something in his tone drew Kedrik's gaze with a start. He wasn't just worried, now. He was angry. "Not everything is about you, boy."

Right. Another thing to add to the list of stuff Wix 'didn't need to know'. Along with what had happened to his mother. But he'd given up on trying to find the truth of that long ago. None of the townsfolk seemed to know, and for whatever reason both Kedrik and Jenny had decided Wix didn't need to know the details. The very fact that he wanted to know made Kedrik angry. Maybe because Kedrik himself didn't quite understand it. Didn't want to understand it. Ivalyse had left. A long time ago. And that was all there was to it.

Not that it surprised Wix that any woman would want to leave Kedrik. What he didn't understand, and what he at times found himself to be rather obsessed with, was why she had not taken him with her. Not that it mattered anymore. You lived life forward, not backward. It was one of those things he would likely never understand.

But this business with the stranger. It seemed different, somehow. Pertinent. And imminent. Like it was still happening.

As Wix considered what tact he should take, Kedrik hopped up onto the porch. "Go and ready the cart," he said. "We're going into town."

Wix grimaced. "Right now? Why?"

"Supplies," Kedrik said.

"For what?" Wix said.

Kedrik only gave him a hard stare.

"We should all go to the chapel," Jenny said, suddenly.

Kedrik turned on her. "What was that?"

"It's Shattering Day," Jenny said.

"And what's that to do with it?" Kedrik said.

"As long as we're in town, the least we could do is attend a service."

Kedrik grunted. "You know I don't believe in that nonsense."

Jenny raised an eyebrow like she didn't believe him. "In what? The Shattering? It's all around us."

"I'm not going to argue this with you," Kedrik said. "I don't practice your religion."

"Just this once, then?" Jenny said, plaintively.

That seemed to give Kedrik pause. He hated the way she always went on about the teachings of Calbreia. Always talking about how she burned prayers for him, and pestering him to pray before he ate his meals. Was it possible that if he gave her this, she would leave him alone with it, if even just for a few months?

Wix saw all this flash across Kedrik's expression, and more.

"This once," Kedrik said.

Jenny beamed and went to clasp her hands, almost dropping the shotgun in the process.

"Careful with that thing, woman. You'll set it off." He inspected Wix. "What are you still doing, standing there?"

"Sir," Wix said, and headed out front to grab Willow. As soon as he was off the front porch he heard the slam of the front door as Kedrik headed inside.