Page 30 of Firefly

Rebecca shook her head. “It’s no problem. Come here, Sarah. Give me a kiss.”

Sarah pulled free from Thea’s grasp and ran to Rebecca, kissing both her cheeks. “Love you, Mama.

“Love you too, sweet girl.”

“Will you come outside?” Sarah danced away, waving her flag again.

Rebecca pressed a hand to her temple. “Not today, my love. Will you bring me something from the garden?”

Sarah nodded and skipped out of the room. Thea gave Rebecca a nervous nod and followed Sarah, closing the door.

When they had gone, Rebecca fell back on the bed, sighing. Although her father hadn’t touched her in nearly a year, she felt her strength waning. Somehow, she knew time was running out.

Death frightened her, but she was more worried for Sarah. Sarah had powerful gifts, like Rebecca, and they would be difficult to hide. She had tried to explain to Thea how important it was to keep Sarah’s gifts hidden from Alexander, but Thea had only nodded, eyes wide with terror, and left the room the moment the conversation ended.

If only Rebecca were a man. She could have made her own fortune; carved a path that didn’t include Alexander. If only she hadn’t relied on Simon to save them. But it was too late for wishing, and her greatest fear was that Sarah would be doomed to repeat her mistakes.

As she lay back, breathing deeply, her eyes fluttered closed, and she slipped into another dream of a land far from home.

Chapter 22

Simon

“You don’t have a spade?”

“I played my last spade in the last round!”

“I know you have a four!” Simon demanded, throwing his cards down. ”You’re a cheat, Williams.”

Simon stood, pushing the table back, and several of the men grumbled their agreement.

The man beside him, Williams, tossed his cards on the table. All red.

“Check under his waistline.”

Two men at the table grabbed Williams by the wrists as one ran a hand along his waistband.

Williams blew the first man a kiss. “I got somethin' for ya,” he said, winking at the other man.

“Carey was right!” the man said, holding up a four of spades. “He’s a cheat!” Everyone at the table began hurling accusations, and several men scooped up bottle caps, rocks, and other objects used for betting. “Wadaya wanna do with ’im, Carey?”

Simon turned around to face the group of men. He paused, watching their expectant faces. If he condemned the man, they would call for blood. They were that loyal. “Let him go, guys,” he said, slapping one of the men on the back. “We’re all friends here. Just don’t let Williams near your wives.”

The men laughed, releasing Williams, and he stumbled away, leaving before they could change their minds.

It was a miracle what just a few months had done for them, and though he would never forget the men who no longer occupied the empty tents, this group of eighty or so thrived on the rations he brought them each night.

“Shhhh shhh shh,” someone said, snuffing out their light as boots marched over gravel outside the tent.

Simon ducked against a wall, melting into the shadows. He stuffed a hand into his pocket, crumpling an envelope.

Pulling it out, he smoothed the corner, checking to ensure Rebecca's name and address were still legible. With no return address, he had no way of knowing if any of the letters he sent ever escaped this war-torn country and found their way to her, but continued to write them, hoping at least a few got through.

The tent flap flew open, and a dozen soldiers marched inside. They stood at attention as the man in front spoke.

“Aufmerksamkeit! Der Krieg ist vorbei! Sie werden nach hause zuruckehren.” The man saluted the air and turned, marching out of the tent. The other followed, and Simon returned to the crowd.

“What did they say?”

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