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dirt, she sprinted to the barn, fearing someone was hurt.
The sound of several voices shouting carried across the distance,
which alarmed her even more since her father and Benjin were
normally the only ones about.
    She stopped short when a familiar-looking man
backed out of the barn, waving his arms in front of him, and he
came close to falling over backward. Two more men followed, both in
similar states of retreat, and Catrin was shocked to the core of
her being when her father charged out next, looking like a man in a
murderous rage. Benjin swarmed out at his side, his pitchfork
leveled at the retreating men.
    "You expect us to live with that abomination
in our midst?" one man shouted as he backpedaled. "That hussy damn
near killed m'boy. He might die yet from what she did to 'im."
    "You've no proof of that, Petram, nor do you,
Burl, nor you, Rolph. You'll take yourselves off my property this
instant, or so help me . . ." he said through clenched teeth; then
he actually growled at them. A threatening step forward sent the
other men scrambling back. Benjin had not said a word, but the look
in his eyes made it clear he would not hesitate to stick them with
his pitchfork if they persisted, and it appeared as though the men
might leave before any blood was shed.
    Massive waves of fear, embarrassment, and
guilt washed over Catrin, freezing her in place. She wanted to flee
or scream but could do neither. Instead she stood still as a stone
and watched the events unfold, hoping to remain unseen, but it was
not to be. The men spotted her and glared.
    "What are you staring at, you boiling little
witch?" one man shouted, and Catrin recognized him as Peten's
father, Petram. She also recognized the fathers of the other boys.
As they scowled at her, she quailed; the hatred in their eyes made
her feel small and dirty.
    "You will burn for this, Catrin Volker!" Burl
shouted over his shoulder, but his speech was cut short when Benjin
swung the pitchfork handle at his head, and the three men fled.
    "The council will hear of this!" Petram
shouted.
    Then they were gone, leaving Catrin to
consider their words. Her father turned to her, and the look on his
face softened. She stood silent, tears streaming down her cheeks,
unchecked, and her lip quivered as she struggled to maintain her
composure.
    "Ah, Cat. I wish none of this were happening.
You've certainly done nothing to deserve what those sons of jackals
just said. Don't take their words into your heart, dear one. They
are just scared, confused, and looking for someone to blame. I'll
take care of them; don't you worry. Come along now. We've horses to
tend, and I need to make a trip to the cold caves this afternoon,"
he said as he guided her into the barn.
    Catrin's father had inherited the cold caves
from his father, Marix. A popular barroom tale said her grandfather
had won the caves in a wager with Headmaster Edem. They said Edem
had been drinking with Marix at the Watering Hole after the Summer
Games. Edem's son had won the cross-country horse race, and he
celebrated with Marix, who had trained the horse, and they both got
too far into their drink. Edem bet Marix he could not get the
innkeeper, Miss Olsa, to show them her wares. Miss Olsa was an
older woman at the time, though not unattractive, and she had a
reputation for being a shrewd businesswoman.
    Marix called her to his table and whispered
into her ear for a long time. When he pulled his cupped hand away,
Miss Olsa turned to the drunken headmaster, pulled up her blouse,
and boldly revealed herself. Then she ran into the kitchen,
giggling like a young girl. No one knew what Marix said, but the
locals swore no one ever duplicated the feat, which made her
grandfather a bit of a town hero. Catrin suspected he said
something regarding the free cold cave storage still enjoyed by
Olsa's daughter, Miss Mariss, long after Olsa's passing.
    Benjin had followed the men off the property
to make sure they caused no more trouble, and he returned