I saddled and mounted Sauto. He pranced in a circle outside the stable, while my companions made their choices. Bartholomew took the lead, riding Thunder, black and beautiful. We rode the vast and strikingly beautiful countryside. Even the houses of Mr. Bartholomew’s servants were beautiful.

As we passed various orchards and ponds and lakes, Sauto snorted as if expressing his opinion of them. He was class on four legs, strength under control. After a long, wondrous day riding, when I cooled him out and brushed him down, he nickered with delight and moved his head against mine.

After washing up, we sat in the great dining hall and settled down to a Greek salad with fresh tomatoes and olives and feta cheese. It was followed with veal cutlets, steak tartare, warm French bread, and fresh asparagus under hollandaise sauce. I raised my eyebrows at David when the server brought in Dutch apple pie à la mode.

“Today you saw only a portion of what I own,” Bartholomew said to all of us after the last bite of pie. “Tell me, now, after being here these days, what do you think of my houses and lands?”

“I think they’re spectacular,” Victoria said.

“They’re very … impressive,” I said.

“Fantastic,” David said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I feel refreshed; I’ve enjoyed our time here,” Malaiki said. Did I hear a slight hesitation in her voice?

Bartholomew turned to Shad. “And you, Shadrach, what do you think?”

Shad thought long and hard. Finally he said, “I think … you’re going to have a hard time leaving all this.”

David turned crimson. “Mr. Bartholomew extends us every kindness, and this is how you repay his hospitality?”

“He asked me a question. I answered it honestly.”

“So you did,” Mr. Bartholomew said. The remainder of the dinner was very quiet. As the rest of us left, David stayed and talked to Bartholomew.

The next morning we gathered in the great living room, packs in hand, ready to head for the road.

We thanked Mr. Bartholomew warmly, then followed Shad toward the front door. He seemed anxious to get us out. David lingered, talking with two of the servants.

“Come on, David,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not coming.”

“What?”

“Mr. Bartholomew offered me a position. I’m staying to manage his estate.”

“But … what about the red road? You’re a traveler, aren’t you?”

“I’m tired of the road. It’s time to settle down, do something worthwhile, something I can measure.”

“But we’re headed home,” Shad said.

“So you say. I don’t know about Charis. I look to the west and see nothing but sunsets. Besides, I doubt anything could compare to Mr. Bartholomew’s estate.”

“Momentary ease isn’t the answer,” Shad said to him. “The daily hardships of the road sharpen and deepen the man.”