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police won’t like it.” I heard my mother-hen voice come out as it always did in times of stress. The present situation certainly qualified.
    â€œI’m a paramedic. I was just checking his vitals to see if I could help.” He ran a hand through his blond hair, and mud clung to his bangs. Something about the image struck me as familiar. I shook the thought away and concentrated on the situation at hand. Poor Maxwell.
    I bit my lip. “Could you help?”
    He shook his head. “No, I think he’s been dead for several hours.”
    Beside the pit, I saw Maxwell’s dress shoes. His black socks were rolled up into a ball and neatly tucked into the right shoe. His trousers were rolled up to mid-calf. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it looked like Maxwell had tried to make bricks in his suit. “What was he doing here?” I said, mostly to myself.
    â€œHard to tell. Is he supposed to be in the village?”
    â€œNo,” I replied.
    I felt the paramedic watching me. “Then what’s his connection to Barton Farm?”
    My gaze flicked to his face.
    â€œSorry, I’m used to shooting off questions when I arrive on a scene. Just force of habit, I guess.”
    In the early morning light, I saw that his eyes were a dark chocolate brown. I looked away and concentrated on Maxwell in the pit. I swallowed hard and willed myself not to throw up. I’d seen a dead body before. I had even picked out the casket for my mother’s funeral when I was only eighteen. My father had been too broken up to do it. However, I’d never seen one like this, so out in the open, so recently gone. Damage control, Kelsey, I told myself. Damage control with a capital D .
    â€œI’m Kelsey Cambridge. I’m the director of Barton Farm.”
    â€œI know,” he replied.
    I bristled. “I’m at a disadvantage then. What’s your name?”
    â€œChase Wyatt.” I saw a flash of a dimple when he smiled.
    â€œI need to make another call.” I stepped a few feet away.
    I supposed the bugler had been a blessing in disguise because if I had gotten up at my normal hour, Hayden would be with me on this farm walk. He loved to accompany me on my early-morning rounds, and he was especially excited this weekend with the reenactors on Farm property.
    Tiffin galloped to me from the barn, but Jason didn’t appear. I wouldn’t be surprised if my shy farmhand hid throughout the morning. As I listened to my cell phone ring, I clicked on Tiffin’s leash. He whimpered and strained against it.
    â€œSorry, Tiff,” I whispered. “I can’t have you jumping into the brick pit.”
    My father answered the phone with his usual jovial tone.
    â€œDad, I need you to do me a favor. You need to keep Hayden inside the cottage for a little while.”
    â€œIt’s a beautiful day and the rapscallion is up and ready to see the encampments.”
    I sighed and knew Hayden would never be satisfied with being cooped up in the cottage with so much excitement going on. “Fine, but keep him on that side of the road, where the reenactors are. Under no circumstance are you to bring him into the village.”
    â€œWhy? What’s going on?” My father’s voice lost some of its jovial quality. “Are you all right?”
    â€œYes, I’m fine, but there’s been an accident,” I said. Against my will, my eyes traveled to Maxwell’s glassy face. “And someone’s been hurt … ” my voice trailed off. Hurt was putting it mildly.
    â€œWhat? Who is it?” Dad asked. “Did one those would-be soldiers shoot himself in the foot?”
    I caught the paramedic watching me. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll tell you everything when I get home.”
    I heard sirens approaching. Tiffin sat up straight on high alert.
    â€œAre those sirens?” my father asked.
    â€œYes. I have to go now. Just keep Hayden