Burning Bright (Peter Ash #2)(100)

“And hugged and loved,” said June. “Found me books and lessons, made sure I did them. A lot more than my dad ever did.”

“Well, your dad always did have a lot on his mind,” said Sally. “Now more than ever.” She seemed to notice the young man for the first time. “This is Oliver, he just started working with me here.”

Oliver nodded politely without speaking. He had thick black hair and almond-shaped eyes with only faint folds at the lids. Peter thought at least one of Oliver’s parents had ancestors in Asia. His weight was balanced, the pitchfork light in his hands.

Sally looked at June again. “So. What brings you back now?”

“Partly to see you,” said June. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here.”

“Golden handcuffs,” said Sally. She patted the goat. “Where else would I get the funding to do this work? We’ve got these greenhouses working well enough to grow tomatoes in a snowstorm. We produce enough food now to feed ourselves and export some to the outside, completely sustainable.”

“I’d love to hear about it,” said June.

“I’ll give you the tour and talk your ear off.” Sally cocked her head like a curious cat. “But you didn’t come just to see me.”

“No,” said June. “You know my mom died?”

Sally nodded sadly. “I saw it online. Hit by a car, right?”

“Hit-and-run. They never caught the guy. I thought it was time to come see my dad. See if we can work things out.”

Oliver looked steadily at Peter without threat or malice, and carried himself with a stillness that was part observation and part simple readiness. His face was smooth and unlined but Peter was pretty sure Oliver was older than he looked. And not really a farmworker, although he looked capable enough with that pitchfork.

Sally said, “Your dad’s not what you think. He’s not a bad man.”

June gave the older woman a look. “Are you and my dad, you know. Together?”

“Oh,” Sally said, looking away as a faint blush reached her cheeks. The goat nudged her hand with its nose, reminding her to keep petting it. “I wouldn’t call it that. We’ve just known each other a long time.” She glanced up the valley to a group of buildings. “I don’t think there’s ever really been anyone for Sasha but your mom. And you, of course. He’s really missed you.”

“Well, I need to talk to him,” said June. “Do you still do family-style dinners on Saturday?”

“Oh, yes,” said Sally. “You’re staying, of course. We’ll be in the orchard for the first time since last fall. We’ve grown a bit, there are more people than there used to be. The cooks are making cabrito, it should be wonderful.”

Cabrito was goat meat.

Sally saw Peter glance at the goat she was petting. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” She laughed, an infectious cackle. “Don’t worry, we’re not eating this one for a few more years. Not ’til she’s past her breeding years. Lucky for me I’m not a goat!” She laughed again.

He said, “You have any unusual visitors lately?”

“Just us chickens,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

He figured Chip and his people would be hard to miss. Depending on how many people he had, at least two cars, maybe three or four. If it was more than four, they might be in trouble.

“No real reason. We’ve met some interesting characters in the last few days. They all seem pretty interested in June.”

She beamed at June. “Well, who wouldn’t be, a beautiful young woman like you?”

June rolled her eyes. “Listen, we should go find my dad.” She gave Sally another hug. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“You might want to find me before. You’ll understand when you see your dad. I’ll call him so he knows you’re coming. You know how he hates surprises.”

The older woman raised her eyes to the sky. Peter followed her gaze and saw the shadow above them, still circling but lower now.

“Of course,” Sally added, “he probably already knows you’re here.”

Peter walked back to the truck, feeling Oliver’s eyes on him the whole way.

He had a feeling he’d just seen the first signs of the valley’s security.

? ? ?

HE PULLED THE TRUCK onto the road again, window down, headed toward the group of buildings at the head of the valley. The road was straight and flat enough to hit the truck’s top speed of eighty, but he kept it in second gear. He didn’t want to run into any goats. “How many farmworkers will the bunkhouse hold?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s changed so much since I left.” She looked at him. “You’re thinking about Oliver, aren’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“He’s just like you,” she said. “Lewis, too. Self-contained and still. But with this kind of, I don’t know, awareness. Like he’s always ready for anything.”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “He’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. A bunch of farmers with guns? Some ex-Army tough guys flexing their muscles? Not a guy like Oliver.”