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Tibbles left the meetinghouse and headed out toward the canyon rim.  He passed several houses and walked down the narrow road of the small town at the base of the mountain.
    As he passed a corner, a voice halted him.
    “Evening, Tibbles.”
    Darnell looked over at the speaker.  He was a young man, tall and strong.  His broad shoulders were accented by his narrow hips, and his arms were long and powerful.  He somehow had managed to get the best of both his parents.  The strength of his father combined with the good looks of his mother. 
    Darnell didn’t like the look in the young man’s eye so he decided to play it safe. 
    “Good evening, Carson.  How are you?” Tibbles said, careful to strike a neutral tone with his boss’ son.
    “Oh, passable. Just passable,” Carson Hobbes said smoothly.  He let his eyes drift out over the canyon, allowing a full minute to pass before he asked his question.
    “So, what did my father say about the scouts?” Carson was actually the one who sent the men out; Darnell had covered for him, and they both knew it.  Carson wasn’t yet ready to challenge his father’s authority, but he wasn’t above letting others take the heat if he could convince them it was worth their while.
    Darnell whistled softly.  “He wasn’t happy, that was for sure.  Next time I’ll let you take the blame.”
    Carson gave Darnell a half smile.  “Now, Tibbles, you know that almost sounds like you want to back out of our deal.”
    “Deal?” Tibbles snorted. “You didn’t give me much choice, did you?”
    Carson smiled again.  “Well, you do have a pretty daughter.  Maybe I should pay more attention to her after all.”
    Darnell’s eyes turned cold. “I’d recommend against that kind of thing, Hobbes.  I respect your dad and what he’s done here, and me taking the blame for you isn’t a big deal as far as that goes.  But if you think you can back out of our deal, you’d best be ready to go all the way.”
    “You threatening me, Tibbles?” Carson’s eyes lit up at the prospect of battle, and the only thing he wished for right now was an audience for him to fight in front of.  He’d never lost a fight in his life, thrilling at the feel of landing blows on his opponents.  But for all his fights, he’d never actually faced a zombie.  He had been made safe too soon for that to happen, and others had done the fighting for him.  It was the one thing he longed to do.
    Darnell held out a hand. “Not at all.  Just letting you know where I stand when it comes to you keeping your word.”
    Carson reached for the older man’s hand.  He’d teach him a lesson right now.  Carson had a strong grip, and he liked to prove it whenever he shook hands.  Grasping Darnell’s hand, he gave a hefty squeeze.
    Carson’s grin fell off his face when his hand exploded in pain.  His knuckles felt like they were being folded in half, and his fingers were suddenly numb.  He very nearly fell to his knees when the pain stopped abruptly.
    Darnell Tibbles gave Carson a smile of his own as he explained.
    “What do welders do all day, son?  They grip things and hold them steady. I’ve been a welder a long time, boy, and no one besides another welder could try that little game on me.” Darnell winked at the young man.  “Not even your dad would do that with me, boy.  You do it again, and I’ll crush your hand to a pulp.”
    Darnell whistled a little as he walked away, leaving a very hurt, but slightly wiser, Carson Hobbes behind.
    Darnell kept walking, following the well-worn trails that wound through the community on the mountain. The paths were lit with small lanterns, and as he looked back, the great peak was covered in ropes of lanterns like a gigantic Christmas tree. Moving through the sparse trees, Darnell waved at folks who were sitting out on their porches, looking out at the incredible view they enjoyed every single day.
    He kept walking, moving up the trails until he reached a small