He never asked questions; he never addressed his companions; and frequently he took off his cap and wiped his forehead. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. The child was still safe. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. They found out Cris had some sort of criminal past, more child abuse stuff of course. He talked very little and rather absently. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension.
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