North was already moving, grabbing Shaw and pitching him through the judas door into the dust and hay-smell and darkness on the other side. North flowed into the movement, spinning to one side, letting the augur carve an arc in the air inches from his head. The momentum of the swing carried the big man in a circle, and North charged into the moment of vulnerability.

He hit the guy hard, and they both went down. The augur fell to the ground with a thump, and then North lost track of it because he was rolling away from the big man, bringing up his arms to shield his face as the man threw a wild punch. The blow skipped off North’s forearm, and North kept rolling, trying to get clear long enough to get to his feet.

The big man came after him, though, faster than North expected. North lashed out with one foot, aiming for the gut, but his opponent just batted it aside and brought one fist crashing down. North blocked him again, but the shock ran up to his elbows. When the big man pulled back for another punch, North popped him in the nose, and blood misted the man’s chin and shirt; it sprinkled the back of North’s hand like pepper grains.

North twisted, waiting for the next blow to fall, hoping he could absorb it in the shoulder or the arm. It never came. The man stayed there, rocking on his knees, gore running around his mouth in two streams, his eyes wide and stunned. One punch. It had taken one punch. North felt like crowing. Shaw wasn’t going to believe it.

Then the man toppled forward, and North saw Shaw standing behind him, a shovel in one hand, a kid in the other. The kid was mouthing at Shaw’s collar, trying to get the fabric between its teeth, and Shaw was giggling and twisting as the kid’s nose tickled his collarbone.

“I—” Another burst of giggles. “I—the shovel, I—” More giggles.

“But I punched him,” North said. He even had proof; his hand hurt like hell already, and it was only going to get worse.

“I—” This time, the giggles almost made Shaw collapse, and all he managed to say was, “Good job, you did a—a—really good—” And then he dissolved into giggles.

North couldn’t really explain why this whole situation was such an affront to his dignity. The goats. The shovel. That damn giggling. He got to his feet, shaking out his hand, and said, “Thanks a fucking lot. I got up just fine on my own, thanks. Thank you.”

Shaw had fallen on his ass. The kid in his arms had a mouthful of his shirt and was going to town. Two more kids had wandered out and were investigating him as well.