“Well, I’ll put the burden on him. The next overt act, I’ll put him under a peace bond. Then his fight will be with modern law, not with me.”

Tom was silent. Dixon held out his hand. Tom shook it and turned away. He linked his arm through Doney’s and led her across the door, through the hall, and out of the house. The mare was at the side, cropping the soft green grass. Tom swung into the saddle and pulled Doney up behind him.

She reached for a corner of her skirt and dried her eyes. “I shouldn’t of follered you,” she said. “I know I shamed you. But seemed like I’d die if I didn’t.”

“Ne’ mind now.”

He turned the mare into the road.

“Honey,” he said, “Dixon didn’t have no idee we was blocked from water. He said if ary one had of come to him right off, nothin’ need of happened. You know what he aims to do? He aims to sell us cattle people the south thousand of that land, at what he paid for it, and buy hisself another thousand to the north.”

“What’ll your pa say?”

“I ain’t even studyin’ on seein’ him, to tell. I’m done.”

“Ain’t we goin’ home now?”

“We can’t never call it home again. We’ll spend the night at Dibbles’. Tomorrow, Dixon’s got a house for us. He’s give me a job as woods rider. He’s got jobs for ten. The men he carried down here with him ain’t satisfied with the country. Millses’ll take it, and Kelceys and five-six more. He pays good wages.”

She puzzled in silence.

“Ain’t you pleased, Doney?”

“I got to get used to thinkin’ about it,” she apologized. “Seems like more’n I can think about, you workin’ for a enemy.”

He slowed the mare to a walk and turned his head.

“Well, honey, you better get it straight right now. Pa won’t never change. We’re in for it. The law don’t mean no more to him than a last year’s calf to a cow. I hate to go against my blood, but I got no choice. Dixon’s a white man. We got a chancet to live independent and decent. Dixon’s a friend. It’s Pa, now, is the enemy.”

The world was upside down. Her mind was a loose bag full of unsorted patchwork pieces. Nothing hung together. She had tried to be a good daughter to old Milford. Her goodness had included, even, acceptance of him. Who would mend now the bursted seams in his shirts and trousers? Who would run to him with a cup of cold water when his whole obese mass gasped for breath? It would not be she, because he was become an enemy.