“He hasn’t even got a name,” Annie shouted. “He hasn’t even got a name.”

Lew looked up, the sun catching briefly in eyes as unearthly as the supersaturated blue sky behind him. Gently, he swung Baby back in and lowered him to the ground. Annie freed herself, slapping and tearing at Raj, and stepped onto the plateau. Baby crawled just a half foot or so and then fell back on his rear, crying and reaching for her in outrage. He was still within easy reach of Lew. As she took a few steps closer, Lew shifted the shotgun so it was now in both his hands, though still aiming down.

“Lewis,” Siggy warned, “you put that down now. You put it down.”

Behind her Annie could sense the rifles focusing, as one, to their purpose, felt it like a fist clenching and knew that if Lew moved they would shoot.

“Lew, honey,” she said. “Lew, don’t do this.” Baby was just a few yards away, screaming and reaching.

“Come back here!” Bennet called suddenly. Annie thought this was directed at her, but Raj appeared beside her. Before she could stop him, he took a step forward. Abruptly Lew swung up the shotgun, all the men shouting, but he just pulled it against his chest, cradling it in both arms. Lew looked toward her, a question in his face, which slowly evaporated as he glanced at Baby, then back at Raj, who took another step closer.

“Come on, Cowpat,” Raj said softly. “Let’s go down to the sinkhole. Let’s go down for a swim. Just you and me.”

A gust snatched at the dogwood, the shadows of its leaves breaking surflike over Lew. He seemed to be trying to mouth some words, his arms tightening around the shotgun as if, suddenly, it were all that supported him above that terrible drop to the river. Annie sensed, in those taut sinews, his desire to hold on to this life. Another gust; again the leaf shadows broke over him, seething. But he was untouchable, and all at once appeared so, his arms relaxing, his face dilating into what was unmistakably joy. He looked so young, smiling, staring from her to Baby with clear and amazed recognition. Then back at Raj, who had inched forward, his body stiffening against that terrifying precipice. At this, Lew’s face clouded a little, and he regarded Raj with a kind of loving pity, as one might a calf attempting to stand for the first time. He seemed to want to help, trying—again failing—to speak. Letting it fall loose from the shotgun, Lew began to extend his left hand. Raj lunged.