Page 118 of Down and Dirty

Angelique just laughed.

“I want naught to do with Everstead, and yet I know not where my place in life is now. Let us go to Everstead and rule it together.”

“Huh?”

“I have not been to Everstead in more than fifteen years. It is in the far northern reaches of the Norselands, but beautiful, as I recall. We could put it forth that we are both of my mother’s line, and the odal rights belong to both of us. It is my understanding that all the old retainers are gone; none will know different. Let us go there till we decide what our future holds for us.”

Angelique eyed her warily. “Are you thinking to leave me at Everstead and go off to find that lost love of yours?”

Britta shook her head. “That is impossible, I think.”

“In truth, now that my mother is avenged, I have no desire to continue fighting… or be a nun.”

“The frightening thing is, I no longer see myself as a warrior, either. There are other roles I must needs play now.”

Angelique put her hands on her hips and glowered at her. “What is it you are not telling me?”

“I am with child.”

Home, home on the range… the very cold range…

“Holy crap! It’s colder’n a pig’s butt in a poop parade.”

“Sammy! What have I told you about your language? No video games tonight.”

“Daaaaad!”

“No video games.”

“Maybe I shouldna said it like that, but, geez, Dad, you gotta admit, movin’ to Alaska wasn’t a great idea. Even my snot is frozen.”

“You do have a colorful vocabulary.”

“If I had a dog, I prob’ly wouldn’t be so cold.”

Zach pulled the ear flaps on his son’s cap down lower, then handed him two more pieces of firewood. Once he loaded up, as well, they walked back to the cabin that had been their home for the last three months. And, yeah, it was really cold — twenty below today — but chances were Arsallah and his men wouldn’t be dogsledding out here any time soon.

The cabin was actually a two-bedroom log house, with all the modern conveniences — electric heat, plumbing, updated kitchen — but it was still nice to have a fire in the fireplace at night. Cozy.

And there was a school two miles away that Sammy went to every day via the county school bus. He balked and claimed to hate it, but his mind was like a sponge, and he was learning so much. Zach suspected he liked school. And he’d made some friends there. They were almost a normal, single-parent family.

Of course, they’d changed their names to Smith, and Zach was using his middle name of Frank. Frank Smith and Sammy Smith, whose mother had died last year. Sammy never slipped with his real name. He knew how important their hidden identities were to their safety, which was sad, really, that a child would have to worry about such things.

That evening, Sammy lay on the floor doing his homework before the fire.

Zach was working on his computer at the desk by the window. He’d decided to try his luck at writing a suspense novel while in hiding. About Navy SEALs, of course. It might never sell, but he was enjoying the writing… for now.

“Will we ever go back?” Sammy asked suddenly.

Zach sighed. “Yes, I think so. Eventually.” And actually, he didn’t want to get Sammy’s hopes up, but Arsallah hadn’t been heard from in weeks, and rumor had it that he’d been murdered by one of his followers. I can only hope! Zach’s only link to his old life was a secure phone line to Commander MacLean’s office that only the two of them knew about.

“I miss Danny,” Sammy said.

I miss Britta. He didn’t say that aloud because he didn’t want to add to Sammy’s misery. Though, truthfully, Sammy had adjusted better than he had.

“But I prob’ly wouldn’t be so lonely if I had a dog.”

Zach shook his head. “Give us a chance to settle in ourselves first.”