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leak. Put together with nails. They’re expensive, too. This home is solid, Jamie,” he said proudly. “She’ll be standing for years to come.”
    â€œYou best get ready for bed, Jamie,” Sarah said. “You must be exhausted and here we’ve been prattling on.”
    Long after the candles had been pinched out and the lamp wicks had cooled, Jamie lay wide awake in the soft bed. It was too soft. He couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, he took his blankets and rolled up in them on the floor, on the rag rug beside the bed. That was much better. He was asleep in minutes.
    Jamie was jerked out of sleep by a slight noise. While the senses of anyone living in the frontier had to be keen to stay alive, Jamie’s were Indian-keen. And something had brought him wide awake. Jamie slipped from under the blankets and padded soundlessly to the shutters. He cracked them and looked out. Two men were slipping across the clearing toward the barn where Mr. Montgomery’s fine horses were kept. Mr. Montgomery worked the land himself, and had no paid hands or indentured people on the place. Sam and Sarah did not believe in indenturing people and frowned mightily on slavery. Jamie dressed quickly and silently and took up his bow and quiver of arrows. He strung the bow — it was a powerful one, made just recently by Tall Bull — and slipped his way silently down the steps. He had already tested to see which steps squeaked and which did not. He stayed close to the wall on his way down and fixed the latchstring so he could get back into the home.
    Jamie slipped around to the side, where an overhang had been built, to both afford shelter from the rain and allow Sarah to wash clothes in the big pot while enjoying the shade. Mr. Montgomery hadn’t missed much when he had the home built.
    Jamie had overheard Mason and Caney talking about the rash of horse-stealing that had been going on in the community and about how the man appointed sheriff seemed unable to do anything to stop it. Jamie knew how to stop it. For his Shawnee town had come under attack by Indians several times since he’d been renamed and accepted by the tribe. Jamie had put arrows into several enemies. He didn’t know if he’d ever killed anyone, or not. But he had sure tried.
    Jamie had helped Mr. Montgomery put away the team earlier that evening, and had seen the fine horses kept in the barn. They would be a prize for anyone, and would bring a lot of money for a person who didn’t particularly care where they came from.
    The men were dressed all in dark clothing and had kerchiefs tied around the lower part of their face. They carried bridles in their hands. Jamie slipped closer; close enough to hear them talk.
    â€œWe’ll ride to Tennessee,” one said. “Sell them down there. I got a man who’ll fix up papers for us.”
    Jamie notched an arrow.
    â€œToo bad we can’t knock Sam in the head and have us a time with Sarah,” the other one said.
    Jamie drew back.
    â€œMaybe next time we’re in the country. I could have me a high ol’ time with that wench.”
    Jamie let fly.
    The arrow flew straight and true and embedded deeply in the man’s rump and he let out a fearsome shriek and fell to the ground, on his knees. Jamie put his second arrow into the other man’s leg, knocking him down. Within seconds, Sam Montgomery was outside, a pistol in each hand.
    â€œOver here, Mr. Montgomery,” Jamie called. “Horse thieves.”
    â€œBy the Lord!” Sam said, as Sarah came outside in a dressing gown. She carried a lantern. “Ring the warning bell, Sarah,” Sam told her. “Ring it loud and long.”
    He looked at Jamie, standing calmly, another arrow notched and ready to fly. “Lad, you should have called me. You might have been killed.”
    â€œNot by those two,” the boy said, no sign of fear in his voice. “I’ve stood and faced