The Desert Spear

Fisher to take back with him.”
    Renna nodded and went inside, but she hung by the door, listening. With the formalities done with, the real talk would begin soon, and she didn’t want to miss a word.
    “Sorry it took me so long to come,” Garric began. “Meant no disrespect.”
    “None taken,” Harl said, drawing on his pipe.
    “Whole town’s buzzing about this business between the kids,” Garric said. “Got it from Hog’s daughter, or summat. Goodwives ent got nothin’ better to do with their time than gossip and rumormonger.”
    Harl spat.
    “Want to apologize for my boy’s behavior,” Garric said. “Cobie’s fond o’ tellin’ me he’s a grown man and can handle his own affairs, but grown is as grown does, I say. Wern’t right, what he done.”
    “That’s undersaid,” Harl grunted, and spat again.
    “Well, you ought to know that after you sent him runnin’ home with his tail between his legs, I caught wind and stepped in. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”
    “Glad to hear it,” Harl said. “I were you, I’d beat some sense into that boy.”
    Garric scowled. “I were you, I’d tell my daughter to keep her skirts around her ankles, steada puttin’ sin in the mind of every man passes by.”
    “Oh, I had my words with her,” Harl assured. “She won’t be sinnin’ no more. I put the fear o’ the Creator in her, honest word.”
    “Been more ’n words, it was one of my girls,” Garric said. “I’da caned her backside raw.”
    “You discipline your way, Fisher,” Harl said, “and I’ll do mine.”
    Garric nodded. “Fair and true.” He drew on his pipe. “That sophearted Tender woulda married them, they made it to Boggin’s Hill afore you caught ’em,” he warned.
    Renna gasped, and her heart skipped a beat. She covered her mouth in fright, holding her breath for a long moment until she was sure they hadn’t heard her.
    “Harral’s always been too soft,” Harl said. “A Tender needs to punish wickedness, not condone it.”
    Garric grunted his assent. “Girl ent been sick none?” He made it sound casual, but Renna could tell it was anything but.
    Harl shook his head. “Still got her moon blood.”
    Garric blew out a breath, clearly relieved, and suddenly Renna realized why he ’d waited so long to come. Her hand strayed to her stomach, and she wished her womb had quickened, but she ’d only had Cobie’s seed once, and Harl was always careful not to spend in her.
    “No disrespect,” Garric said, “but my lazeabout son’s got prospects for the first time in his life, and Nomi and I aim to find him a proper bride, not some scandal.”
    “Yer son ent got no prospects at all, he puts his hands on my daughter again,” Harl said.
    Garric scowled, but he nodded. “Can’t say I’d think any different, it was one o’ my girls,” He tapped out his pipe. “Reckon we understand each other.”
    “Reckon we do,” Harl said. “Girl! Where’s that leaf?”
    Renna jumped, having forgotten all about the pouch. She ran to the smokeleaf barrel and filled a sheepskin pouch. “Coming!”
    Harl scowled at her when she returned, and gave her a slap on the rump for being slow. He gave the pouch to Garric, and they watched him climb into his cart and trundle off.
    “Do you think it’s true, Mrs. Scratch?” Renna asked the mother cat as she nursed her kits that night. They scrambled over one another in a great pile, fighting for the teats as Mrs. Scratch lay out behind the broken wheelbarrow in the barn where she’d hidden her litter. Renna called her Mrs. Scratch now, like a proper mam, though as expected the tabby that got the kits on her had made scarce since the birth.
    “Do you think the Tender would really marry us if we went to him?” she asked. “Cobie said it was so, and Garric, too. Oh, could you imagine?” Renna picked up one of the kits, kissing its head as it mewed softly at her.
    “Renna Messenger,” she said, trying on the name and smiling. It sounded good. It sounded right.
    “I could make it to Town Square,” she said. “It’s a long way, but I could run it in four hours or so. If I went late in the day, Da could never make it out in time, not with his aching joints.” She glanced over at the cart.
    “’Specially not if he can’t ride,” she added slyly.
    “But what if Cobie’s away when I come?” she asked. “Or if he doesn’t want me anymore?” As she pondered that awful thought, the prodigal tabby returned, a fat