Dreyfus ran to the fire. His men came running too. They filled buckets with well water and tossed them onto the side of the burning barn. They were almost too late. A large piece of the siding had been burned brown and black.

While they put the fire out, Paul was leaning against the side of his truck, watching them. He was lighting another smoke, staring at the flame coming from his lighter like it had hypnotized him. Paul said, “How about you pay us what we agreed on and let us get outta your hair?”

“You’re a lunatic,” said Dreyfus.

“Well,” said Paul, holding the lighter just in front of his nose. “God made me crazy to make up for how handsome I am.”

Dreyfus paid cash.

Paul shoved the money into his chest pocket. He and Vern leapt into the truck. Vern tucked the baby’s head just beneath his chin. She was beginning to fall asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her.

Paul yanked his gearshift, then nodded toward the barn.

“I ain’t no expert,” said Paul. “But it looks to me like your barn could use a new coat of paint. It looks like it’s about to be rendered inexplicably null.”

The truck bounced down the driveway. Vern waved goodbye to Mister Dreyfus. Mister Dreyfus did not wave back.

Paul patted Vern’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about that old goat, he’s just having a bad day.”

“But,” said Vern, “do you think he likes the barn?”

“Likes it? Why, he loves it. Prettiest barn he ever saw.”

This pleased Vern. Then he fell asleep smelling the baby’s beautiful hair.

Nine
Brave Girls

The land around the bay looked like heaven itself. It was different from the mountain town she’d come from, a town plopped on the big ridge of Trinity Mountain, not far from the Tennessee River. But here, everything was different. Even the soil was different. It was not black and brown like it was in Trinity, but red and sandy in some places. There were no peaks and valleys, no hills. There were only shallow swells of land that fell right into the enormous bay. Gold grass flats shot out for miles into the water. Birds were everywhere. It was warm and salty-aired. It was a kind of heaven, no matter how you looked at it.

“Maggie,” said Marigold. “I’m coming, Maggie!”

Marigold wandered the shoreline, staggering toward the place she remembered. Now and then, she became light-headed and had to sit. Her legs were shaky. Her stomach was empty. She was running on pure willpower.

She was reduced to a slow walk. When she reached a fence post with a green ribbon tied around it, she veered left. She climbed over deep canals, looking for her next ribbon. When she reached the red puddle of standing water, she clomped right through it instead of going around.