Tom Eidson

Their brother was standing Inside a small picketed enclosure at the heart of the garden. Even with the moon above, the shadows here were deep, the night seemingly enveloping them like liquid. Their eyes fixed on Sauel, and beyond to the simple cross that marked their father's grave. They'd wanted a stone marker with their father's name and carvings of angels and some nice words on it, but their mother had forbidden it. They would mark his grave, she'd told them, with the simple sign of their Lord and nothing more. At least he was here with them. But still it bothered them.
The night air was chilly and Zacharias pulled in tightly against Luke. He was carrying Hercules, the rooster, under one arm, the old chicken clucking softly in the cool night air as though he found all of this Worth serious contemplation.

- Monsieur Swanson, vous êtes blessé. (Elle parcourut son bras de ses doigts experts.) Heureusement, la fracture est nette.
- S'ils m'avaient présenté ma tête sur un plateau, vous auriez dit que j'ai eu de la chance qu'ils me l'aient rendue, dit-il sans desserrer les dents.