Free Sweet Boundless by Kristen Heitzmann

swooping upward to the tip of a pine heavy with cones. The sun was slightly past the zenith, and he’d said in an hour they’d be in Fairplay. Just don’t think of the trip back , she told herself.
    But then the trip back was the whole point of this. During their trip back they’d be carrying her wonderful supplies, the things she would need to make the food for which Crystal would clamor. How long would it take to build the extra room? She pondered this as they drove, picturing it all and trying to tally wood and proportions and cost. Quillan hadn’t asked her to read again. And though she was enjoying the story, she didn’t offer. The wind would have sucked her breath away.
    “There’s Fairplay just ahead.” Quillan hollered across the sleeping dog.
    She looked up and saw the town. From this side, it sprawled more than Crystal, not being confined to a gulch for its configuration. Beyond that, the similarities were greater than the differences. It was less congested, since all the main traffic wasn’t confined to one street. But it was just as loud, just as dirty.
    They pulled over on a side street in an obviously less sophisticated part of town. When Quillan helped her down, she tried not to wince. He pointed. “That one, second from the corner. I’m going to care for the horses.”
    She nodded, then headed for the shop he indicated. The moment she opened the door, tears came to her eyes. Such scents and aromas that met her nose. Such sights as the bottles of olives, the wheels of cheese with black rind and crumbly grain. The sausages. The bread. Madonna mia , it was heaven! The shopkeeper stepped out from behind a stack of crates. He was shorter than she by inches . . . and he was Sicilian.

SIX
    God knows my inmost thoughts, the desires of my heart.
    —Carina
    HAVING TRADED OUT THE HORSES and harnessed a new team, Quillan stopped briefly in the general mercantile and picked up a few items that he knew Crystal was severely short of. He could inflate the price over even Fairplay’s cost. Then he headed back to the shop where he’d left Carina. She must have had time by now to complete her selections.
    He stopped just outside the door and listened to the heated words coming from inside. Actually, he didn’t listen to the words because he couldn’t understand them. But he saw Carina through the window, following the little man, both of them with arms flailing and exaggerated gestures of disdain and incredulity.
    He stood and watched as the man sighed and looked as though he’d just lost his grandmother, then nodded. Carina pointed with another string of words, and the battle began again, Carina scoffing and scolding, the man looking wounded, then angry, then sighing and nodding.
    Quillan noticed a sizable pile of goods gathering in the center of the floor, and the storekeeper added another wheel of cheese to this, then with a dramatic swing of his arm seemed to ask what was next. Carina named it, and Quillan pushed the door open just as the man started to rave.
    She glanced at him, then returned her attention to her adversary. Quick, sharp words silenced the little man, and Quillan felt sorry for him as Carina smiled and the man huffed an injured huff, then gave in once again, adding the item to his tally. Carina pointed to a long string of papery white garlic hung from the ceiling, then indicated two.
    She must have praised it, for the man puffed his chest a little and agreed with her. “Sì, signora. Stesso buono.”
    “Quanto?”
    He named his price.
    Carina nodded, again showing him her smile. “Bene.”
    The man paused while taking down the strings. “Bene?”
    “Sì, bene.”
    The man looked at Quillan, dumbfounded. “At last she no fighta me.”
    Quillan smiled crookedly. “Take it and run.”
    The man didn’t understand, but he climbed down with that very intention. After laying the garlic on the pile, he added it to his tally and worked the total. He tore off the paper and handed it to