“Your ribs aren’t broken,” Barky said. “Cracked, maybe. I will tape them.”

“Don’t touch me.”

But Barky was already thumping upstairs. He brought down a shoebox of ace bandages from Ashley’s days playing high school field hockey and David’s playing soccer. He made David remove his shirt and told him not to simper.

“Did you get the bastard’s license plate?” David asked.

“No. What did he want?”

“The tiara and the choker.”

“Ahh.”

“Don’t ‘ahh’ me, Barky. What’s going on?”

“The egg is broken.”

It was one of Barky’s favorite sayings. Once an egg was broken, there was no putting it back together again—and no use trying. Ashley and David called this their uncle’s Humpty Dumpty philosophy.

But David wasn’t in the mood for it. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

“My basket was full,” Barky said patiently. “An egg was bound to drop out sooner or later.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t excite yourself.”

“That bastard was going after Ashley.”

“If necessary, I will see to your sister.”

Barky wrapped the bandages tight and pinned them with thirty-year-old diaper pins. When he was finished, he nodded, satisfied. “Clear liquids for today, tomorrow you will hurt, and then you will be angry and bruised. Probably you won’t want to do heavy work for a few days, but there is much else to be done here. You and Ashley can make applesauce together. It’s been a long time since you two worked together on the farm. Yes, that’s a good idea.” He handed David his shirt. “Make applesauce while I’m gone.”

“What do you mean while you’re gone? Where the hell are you going?”

Barky removed his Red Sox cap, revealing a balding head and a fringe of gray-streaked golden brown hair, his warm brown eyes fastened on his nephew. “I go fishing,” he said.

“Fishing? You haven’t been fishing in years!” The yelling prompted another stab of pain, and David lay back with a moan, taking quick, shallow breaths. “Dammit, Barky, are you in some kind of trouble?”

Wiping his brow with the back of his wrist, Barky put on his cap and patted David on the shoulder. “Trust me, David.”

“Barky!”

His uncle didn’t flinch, didn’t turn, didn’t glance back as he walked into the kitchen. David heard him sticking another log on the fire in the cook stove.

“Are you a jewel thief?”

The screen door creaked open and shut with a soft thud. David rolled off the couch, spun dizzily and fell to his knees, gasping in agony. He swore and tried to call his uncle, but his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. Finally he collapsed onto his side.

He lay there until the roaring in his ears stopped and the nausea subsided, and then he moved slowly, holding on to the couch as he dragged himself to his feet. He walked into the kitchen, then outside. Standing in the driveway, he listened to the wind and the animals. Barky was gone.