* * * *
I ignored the fields the next morning, opting to set off before dawn for the Mead. Matthew rode the sorrel, and the black, my plow horse, trailed along behind our mounts since I didn’t know how long the trip would take. The boys grumbled at being awakened so early—although in truth it was only half an hour or so before their usual waking time.
When they grew quiet, I suspected they had fallen asleep in the saddle. I advantaged the pleasing silence to consider the man I met yesterday afternoon. Did the Americans consciously seek out barbarians as their leaders? First Hardcastle. Then Brown. And now Smith. They were as different as three men could be, yet of a similar stripe.