Mr. Walker took a step forward. “Listen closely, Ernt. I’m going to let this go as a mistake. But progress is coming to Kaneq. You do anything—anything—to hurt my business from here on out, and I’m not going to call a town meeting. I’m not going to call the cops. I’m coming for you.”

“You don’t scare me, rich boy.”

This time Mr. Walker smiled. “Like I said. Stupid.”

Mr. Walker turned back to the crowd, many of whom had drawn in close to hear the argument. “We’re all friends here. Neighbors. A few words painted on wood don’t mean anything. Let’s get this party started.”

People reacted immediately, rearranged themselves. Women drifted over to the food tables while men fired up the barbecues. Down at the end of the street, the band started up.

Lay down, Sally, and rest you in my arms …

Dad took Mama by the hand and led her down the street, bobbing his head in time to the beat.

Leni was left standing alone, a girl caught between two factions.

She felt the schism in town, the disagreement that could easily become a fight for the soul of what Kaneq should be.

This could get ugly.

Leni knew what her father had done and the vandalism revealed a new side to his rage. It terrified her that he had done such a public thing. Ever since Mr. Walker and Large Marge had first sent Dad to the pipeline for the winter, Dad had been on his guard. He never hit Mama in the face, or anywhere that a bruise could be seen. He worked hard—beyond hard—at controlling his temper. He walked a wide, respectful berth around Mr. Walker.

No more, it seemed.

Leni didn’t realize that Tom Walker had come up beside her until he spoke.

“You look scared,” Mr. Walker said.

“This thing between you and my dad could tear Kaneq apart,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“Trust me, Leni. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Leni looked up at Mr. Walker. “You’re wrong,” she said.

*   *   *

“YOU WORRY TOO MUCH,” Large Marge said to Leni the next day, when Leni showed up to work. For the past year, Leni had worked part-time at the General Store, stocking shelves, dusting supplies, ringing up sales on the antique cash register. She made enough money to keep herself well stocked with film and books. Dad had been against it, of course, but this one time, Mama had stood up to him, told him a seventeen-year-old girl needed an after-school job.

“That vandalism is a bad thing,” Leni said, staring through the window, down the street toward the ruined saloon.

“Aw. Men are stupid. You might as well learn that now. Look at bull moose. They ram into each other at full speed. Same with Dall sheep. This will be a lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”