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slammed closed like the lid of a coffin, and they were off. The truck bounced and jerked down the still uneven path.
     
    It's okay, Kyara. Maybe he just needs time. Other people have started to warm up – there's no reason he won't either. Maybe you just have to give him an opening.
     
    "So," started Kyara. "It's hard to imagine wagons and things making their way over ground this rough."
     
    Officer Marsh grunted, his eyes on the road.
     
    "I mean," continued Kyara gamely, "a hundred years ago, or whatever. I can't imagine their engines were as good as this one."
     
    Marsh didn't respond at all this time. Okay, the joke was lame, but come on, you've gotta give me something here.
     
    "How much farther is it to the mill site, anyway?" she asked desperately.
     
    Marsh shrugged.
     
    Kyara turned towards the window. She was prepared to ride the rest of the way in silence until she caught her own reflection in the glass. She sat there, looking a little sullen, like a kid who wasn't invited to the grown-ups table. Behind her, Officer Marsh's stern, white face seemed to loom above her.
     
    Oh, Hell, no. I'm tired of this. I've been nice for weeks. I'm not doing it anymore, Kyara finally decided.
     
    She turned back to face the silent sheriff.
     
    "Look, do we have a problem?" she asked, letting some heat into her voice.
     
    The officer took his foot off the gas, letting the truck slow but not stop. Suddenly the truck cabin felt very, very small.
     
    Oh, shit.
     
    "Do we... have... a problem...?” Officer Marsh repeated. His voice was rough, and he sounded like he was turning the words over in his mind. Well, at least he's talking to me.
     
    "Do you mean," the officer continued, her voice still slow and ruthless. "Like, do we have a problem with you coming into town and taking over Alice's place before she's had time to grow cold?”
     
    “It was for sale-”
     
    “Or were you thinking more, do we have a problem with you just showing up like you belong here and expecting everyone to fall all over themselves to be your friend?"
     
    Kyara opened her mouth to protest, but Office Marsh was in control now. His voice rode right over her.
     
    "Or maybe you mean, do we have a problem with you taking that poor troubled girl's time away from her mama, where she should be. That one could be it."
     
    Wait, Crystal's not troubled. She's a good kid!  What's he...
     
    "Or maybe you mean, do we have a problem with you coming into town and stealing local boys away from nice girls?"
     
    Wait, what? That one isn't even fair!
     
    But now the white officer's tone was low and menacing.
     
    Kyara choked on her anger, suddenly scared by the look of rage and contempt filling the driver's reddening face.
     
    "Do we have a problem?" He let the other shoe drop, his voice vicious. "No. No problem. Everyone knows you're a failure, and pretty soon, your little cafeteria is going to run out of money, and you'll be gone."
     
    The truck was pulling up behind her restaurant now, and he gestured at it with an angry chop of his hand.
     
    Kyara swallowed, and tried to focus her mind through her anger.
     
    "Listen, asshole. That shit you just said isn’t fair. I..." but her voice was cut off as the red-faced man screamed at her, pounding on the steering wheel as he did.
     
    "You can act like we all owe you something all you want, but no one owes you shit. Everyone knows people like you don't actually do anything. I'd tell you to cry home to daddy, but I bet we both know why you can’t.”
     
    The words slammed into her like a blow to the gut. How did he know?
     
    Kyara threw the door open, running for her back door. I will not cry in front of him. I will not.
     
    Once she was inside, though, the door slammed behind her, Kyara slumped down. Her sobs filled the empty dining hall.
     
    Is my guilt so obvious? Oh, Papa, it's all my fault.
     
    Kyara collapsed to a table, silently shaking in that face of the man's accusations, but more in