Defective

about pearl apple trees?"

  "They grow the same as any other."

  "You've worked an orchard before?"

  She nodded. "Avocados," she said. "Lemons long ago."

  "What the hell's an avo..."

  "Avocado. They're a green fruit. They grow on trees."

  The Landlord studied her a few moments more.

  "Wait here," he told her.

  The Landlord haggled with Rank over the price, eventually settling on a figure that had both men thinking they'd gotten the better deal.

  "I'm at the Inn," the Landlord said, jerking his thumb up the hill. "Have her ready for me in two hours. It's a long ride back."

  Rank quickly sold the four men who had come with Marvellous to a peach farmer from the south, then raised the green flag on the pier. It was the signal for Hap to come down. When Hap arrived, Rank told him to take the men to their new ship.

  "When you're done there start delivering the loads. I'll take care of this one," he said, gesturing at Marvellous.

  While Rank settled with the peach farmer, Hap quickly untied the men from the pier but left on their wrist and ankle manacles. As he freed the last man he glanced up at Marvellous.

  "The Andrastyne Inn," she said quietly, "in an hour."

  ___

  While Rank had been setting up the auction, Hap had taken the men to the station then raced back to Rank's. In the cellar, he grabbed his bag and canteen, rolled them up in a blanket, secured the bundle with cord and slung it over his shoulder. Upstairs, he tossed some vegetables in his pack and put on Rank's heavy oilcloth coat.

  He had sat at the window and watched as Rank led Marvellous down to the pier. He saw the police officer pushing the four men, their hands and feet shackled, towards it; saw Rank shake the police officer's hand.

  Then Hap saw the Landlord. It had to be him. He was a large man, fat, with a thick head of wavy black hair that was starting to grey at the sides. He had a square and prominent jaw. He shivered when he saw him take Marvellous' sleeve and roll it up so that he could inspect her arms.

  When the Landlord turned away to speak to Rank, Hap saw Marvellous' face tilt up towards the house and the window where he sat. Even at that distance, Hap felt his sister's eyes on him. Saw her nod. He nodded back.

  Now, Hap took all the small side streets and short cuts he'd learned during his time in the city. He arrived at the rear of the Andrastyne Inn, where the guests' horses were kept, crouched in a clump of black spruce across the road and waited.

  Soon the barn doors opened and two large black horses, harnessed to a wagon laden with wooden crates were led out. The Landlord appeared holding Marvellous by the arm. Hap crouched lower in the pines.

  They settled on the seat of the cart and the stable hand gave over the reins to the Landlord. He yelled and snapped the leather to get the horses moving.

  There was only one road wide enough to take the Landlord's wagon out of town; it was the same road Hap had followed into Andrastyne; it had no turns or intersections for several miles. Hap would let the wagon get ahead a bit before he started to follow.

  But as the horses began to crest the hill to the road, a bakery boy came pedalling round the corner. Hap had seen the two-wheelers around Andrastyne. Even in winter, the bakery boys delivered bread on their bicycles. One of the horses reared and the boy almost crashed but managed to keep the bike upright.

  The Landlord stopped to yell at the boy. The boy leaned the bike against a nearby tree then stooped to gather up the loaves that had fallen from his basket.

  "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry sir! It won't happen again!"

  "You idiot! What do you think you're doing on that thing? You scared my horses."

  "Sorry sir! Sorry!"

  The boy kept apologizing as he turned and dashed through the door to the inn's kitchen.

  Hap waited till the Landlord’s cart began to move again and had passed the clump of trees before he ran across the road and stole the bicycle.

  ___

  Mixer sat on Titania's bed and looked out the window. It was warm but he didn't want to take off his new coat, a birthday present from Santa. She’d asked Titania if she could cut off part of the beaver skin coat to make Mixer a new one.

  There hadn't been enough to do Mixer's entire coat in fur, so Santa had stitched together lengths of beaver skin and wool. The finished product was a striped coat of deep brown and grey, with a fur collar and cuffs. Santa dismissed it as her imagination but Mixer appeared taller the moment she put it on him; taller and steadier, although his enormous behind still gave him balance troubles from time to time.

  Titania brought him to the house every day, giving him time to appraise Pater. Other than the almost daily insults, Mixer sensed no particular animosity from the old man towards him or any of the others. Pater's thoughts, such as they were, were relatively simple and straightforward. Mixer played with him from time to time, sending him outside to get water, then making him forget what he'd gone out for, or making him think that the skinny pigeon he selected from the four Bull offered him was the best of the lot, leaving the fatter birds for the rest of the family. Mixer didn't like Pater's habit of taking off for days at a time, but he wasn't strong enough to stop him. There was a feral quality to the old man; an instinct that could not be overridden.

  He'd discovered that this was true of his siblings as well. He could make them do many things, but he could not override who they truly were or force them to do anything against their own nature. Instead, he practiced using their characteristics and their habits — good and bad — to his own ends.

  Being at the house also gave Mixer time alone to consider his options and figure out how he could use what he had learned about the Constable inheriting the farm. Back at the orchard he’d only just begun to put his plan into action when it had been foiled by the Landlord. And the law. He'd had no choice but to start all over again.

  Mixer looked out the window and listened to Pater snoring.

  The old man had been gone for the past two days and had returned late last night, drunk. Mixer had stayed with Titania that night; it was raining hard and Titania didn't feel like going out into the wet to return him to the barn. They were woken up when Pater came stumbling through the front door and smashed into the wooden table in the middle of the room. Titania had told Mixer to stay where he was, but he'd crept to the front of the bed and peered out through the curtain.

  Titania helped Pater into a chair near the stove and threw a blanket at him. She banked up the stove and put a pot of water on to boil. While the water heated, she rubbed the old man's head dry with a corner of the blanket then helped him take off his shoes. She wrapped his bare, bony feet in a towel. When the water boiled she made him a weak mug of valerie tea. Ma had always made Pa drink it whenever the Constable brought him home drunk from the Piggy Gristle. It wouldn't sober him up any faster but it would guarantee that he'd have to get up every few hours to use the outhouse.

  "Drink this. Better?"

  Pater mumbled.

  Titania said nothing. When Pater had finished the tea, she poured him more and gave him a hard biscuit.

  "Eat that. It'll soak up the cider," she told him.

  "S'not cider."

  Titania shrugged.

  "'S whiskey."

  Mixer started to push Titania's thoughts but found her already where he wanted her to be.

  "Where'd you get whiskey, old man?"

  Titania grabbed Pater's chin and raised it so that his eyes met hers. His eyes grew wider and he shivered. He drew the blanket tighter around him and was quiet for a while. When he spoke, he did so carefully, trying hard not to slur his words.

  "Maple whiskey. Ah've got a still."

  "What other secrets are you keeping from me?"

  "None. Swear."

  "How can I be sure? Maybe you're getting tired of us? Maybe you want to get rid of us?"

  "Nah, nah. Don't care what youse do. Saves me huntin'. 'N I can tell that boy cop where he can get o
ff. Maybe he ain't gonna get this farm when I die after all."

  "Why would PC Pierre get the farm?"

  "'Cause he's prob’ly the only one who wouldn't screw me over."

  "Why not give it to your son?"

  Pater sat up straighter in the chair.

  "Sorry bastard. ‘Sides, he’s gone. No, had to give it to that boy cop. He's dumb but he ain't a liar. He would have been fair about it. Die without one and any arsehole can take your prop'ty."

  "Die without one what?"

  Pater took a swig of the tea.

  "Boy cop tole me it's called a will. The law don't make sense. 'Fore you came here, that boy cop tole me that I oughta say who gets my prop'ty when I die. Said that the county'd take it if I didn't pick someone. Worse'n that, he tole me that if someone was squattin' on my land and they was over twenty, they'd get it. How's that for the law, huh? Give a man's prop'ty away to some dirty squatter. Weren't gonna take that chance. That cop's dumb, just like his daddy and his granddaddy 'fore him but he's no liar."

  Mixer scanned his sister's thoughts. Titania's mind was already putting pieces together. If anything happened to Pater, she thought, the Constable would inherit the farm. Then she thought, the Constable likes Porkchop.

  "So what did you do?"

  "He wrote it down on a piece of paper and had me make an X on it, so it's all legal. But I lost it."

  Titania heard Mixer's quiet intake of breath behind the curtain.

  "But I guess that medicine girl of yours can write it down again for me."

  "Jelly?"

  "Not like I plan on dying anytime soon, so don't think you're getting my prop'ty tomorra. But, well, you