“Who are you to say so?” asked Cathy Hardesty, though she’d felt the magic die as well, Charles thought. He could hear it in the wariness of her voice.

One of the witches approached Ms. Hardesty and took her arm. That one kept a sharp eye on Ford, though she took time to give Charles a foul look.

“Come, daughter,” she murmured. “This is unproductive.”

Ms. Hardesty jerked her arm free. “Where is Zander?” she demanded harshly. “What have you done with him?”

Charles did not reply—and was glad that Anna did not, either.

“Go now,” said Ford. His voice was not ungentle, but there was force behind it.

“Come,” said the older witch. “We cannot win this battle on this ground.”

Ford gave her an affable smile. “Common sense is a rare commodity.”

They stalked off in the direction of Wild Sign, and after a moment Charles heard the sounds of dirt bikes revving up.

Ford shook his head. “They came through the wilderness area on those. We’ll see that doesn’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” said Anna. “We would not have been happy to have another fight today.”

Ford slanted an amused look at Charles. At Brother Wolf, maybe, because he said, “I’m not sure that is entirely true.” He glanced in the direction the witches had taken and said, “You have made yourself enemies there.”

“We have always been enemies,” said Charles mildly. “Water is wet. Black witches are our enemies.”

Ford nodded. “Fair enough.” He took a deep breath, then said, “We owe you thanks. This one has long been a foulness in our home.”

“Team effort,” Charles said.

Ford smiled. “This is your land, Charles and Anna Cornick. This forest welcomes you here. But I think, today, you have accomplished all you set out to do.”

“Yes,” agreed Anna.

“We found a couple of vehicles a few miles away.” He jerked his chin in the general direction of where the two cars had been left. “One of my nieces said that she knew the owner of one of them, who might be surprised to find it where it was. She has taken it back where it belongs. She is something of a tinkerer.” This was said with a look of pride. “She fixed what was wrong with the other rig—the one that brought you to the Trading Post. Good as new, she said.”

Charles, surprised, said, “Thank you. I believe a card was left with a phone number, and if the owner of the Land Rover would use it, we’ll see that they are compensated for the use of their vehicle.”

Ford smiled and nodded. “Good. Good.” He tilted his head at Charles. “You and your lady, when you come back here, you should stop in for more pie.”

“We’ll do that,” Charles said.

* * *