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stretching, shedding layers in the warmth of the sun. Tall maples and oaks reached skinny fingers to the life-giving rays. Spruce and white pine shook snowy aprons from their skirts. And here and there, a stark granite rock reared its head, struggling against the ice that still bound it.
    They sauntered past a multitude of bubbling streams, freed from their seasonal prison. Their banks danced with little creatures beckoned from their nests by the snap and crackle all around them. Bushy-tailed squirrels chattered high in the branches, calling to their friends and neighbors, and red-breasted robins flew home from the south. Once, Meadow even caught a glimpse of a shy doe bending her neck for a graceful drink.
    Salizar sat most of the morning in the driver's seat, the reins resting slack in his hands. He stared alternately at the passing countryside and the clear blue sky, all while thoughtfully chewing the inside of his lip.
    She felt safe in the presence of the strange little man, fully aware of her good fortune. She must remember to say a special blessing for him. Here, by God's grace, was food, protection, and a new identity for herself, all traveling in the direction she must go. She was inclined to stay with him until he strayed from her course.
    The sun was well past its zenith before Salizar called for a halt and pulled the rig into an open meadow prickled with brown stalks of grass. "It's time to earn your keep, boy. Gather firewood while I scrape together some vittles."
    Meadow crunched over the brittle crust to a row of elm trees that bordered a small stream. Her back grew warm beneath the dark wool of her coat as she gathered bundles of dried branches. She savored the heat, storing it up against the nights that would now pass crisp and harsh without the warmth of exercise.
    Having collected a good pile, she pulled a shovel from the side of the wagon and scraped away the snow. Filling the hole with grass, she fashioned the twigs into a tent. Then, with borrowed flint and steel, she soon produced a hardy blaze.
    "Well done," Salizar nodded as he emerged from his living quarters, a satisfied smile crinkling his faded blue eyes. "This crooked old back wonders why I didn't hire a strong lad years ago."
    He set bacon on to fry and her stomach growled loudly. He laughed, his face creasing into a thousand wrinkles. "I can't afford to pay you much, but I've food in plenty."
    "I won't ask for more than my keep."
    Silence fell between them, and Meadow could feel his eyes probing her. His unasked questions rolled loudly about the empty space.
    Feeling uncomfortable, she approached Aberdeen and stroked his muzzle. She examined him for signs of stress and ran a hand down each of his legs in search of any swelling. Lifting the huge feet, she scrutinized soles and frogs with narrowed eyes, then stood, well satisfied, and unhitched him from the wagon.
    "Not too much, now," she warned as he bent his head at the stream. "A belly full of cold water will give you colic. You may have your grain and more water when you cool down."
    She removed his bit and bridle and staked him to forage in the open field. His big, disk-like feet plowed furrows in the softening ground and churned it to mud. Meadow then headed back to the line of trees for some private business, completely out of sight of the peddler.
    Returning to the fire, the smells made her mouth water. Salizar chewed quickly and bolted coffee down his throat after each mouthful. He winked at her broadly. "Modest fellow, ain't ya ?" he asked.
    Meadow felt her cheeks grow warm.
    "Oh, don't be embarrassed. I remember how 'tis at your age. Afraid someone might take too close a notice of goods not intended for public scrutiny. Every lad goes through it."
    Mortified, Meadow stared at the ground while waves of humiliation washed over her. Then slowly, like a chunk of ice thawing in her mouth, she realized the old man would never speak so to a woman. He had been completely fooled by her