"Who, your father?" I jerked my thumb back up the hill toward the preacher who was warming up for another session, calling in the lambs as he said lou...ly, waving his long arms."No," she said. "He ain't. Uncle, that's what he is, sort of. Our folks died, got a fever las' winter." Sorry," I said. "He treat you all right?"She was silent and hurried back to the wagon and her reedy singing before I could even ask her name.The third fair-haired girl, who might have been seventeen or eighteen, was. I could feel the sobs before I heard her sniffle. I gently stroked her hair.She pulled back and wiped her eyes and then under her nose with her sleeve."I'm sorry." Shhh." He's always liked Wanda. Before you and your mom came along, they'd be talking all the time at the games or on Sundays. He really enjoyed being with her and talking to her. He didn't think she was anything more than a good friend. He told me he never thought about her age. It wasn't like she was a kid who was nice to talk to.. More

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