Free The Errant Flock by Jana Petken Page A

storms. The journey this night, however, had by far been the most difficult and miserable he’d ever taken.
    He couldn’t help but think again about the money. Deciding not to take it had been an impulsive decision. Had he been too hasty? He was aware of his father’s debts. He owed rent and taxes, unpaid these past two months, and he was under threat of eviction. The present drought had transformed the fertile land into dusty plains. The riverbed had crusted over, and it was so dry that weeds and plants were growing through the ground where water should be flowing. Even the hardiest of crops had failed in the dry spell that had lasted for months.
    The house was in disrepair. His mother, father, and two younger brothers lived together in two rooms under a wooden and straw roof. The plot had olive trees and a vineyard, which had failed to produce more than a few grapes this year. In the past, David’s father had been successful, growing onions, spinach, and asparagus. Striving to survive the drought was an uphill struggle, and each day it became more and more difficult to sustain the family’s meagre needs.
    David missed his brothers, Diego and Juanjo. They were fine boys, growing into strong men with ambitions. Diego had just turned seventeen, and he was determined to leave the land behind for a life at sea. On David’s last visit home, Diego had spoken about a navy with ships that travelled to North Africa and Portugal. There were rumours about vessels being built, sturdy enough to sail far to the East, where new lands were being discovered and fortunes were being made. Diego walked to the sea every chance he got. When he came home, he was melancholic and even more desperate to leave home. He might have asked permission to leave, David suspected, had it not been for the drought, forcing the family to look for other sources of income. He was a loyal lad.
    Diego and Juanjo wanted more than a squalid life in feudal Spain, where religion dictated what you were and what you could become. All the two boys had to look forward to each day was the long trek to the pine forests, blistered feet, and aching backs. It was illegal to cut down the pine trees in the upper slopes, which lay half a league behind the town, but the lads took only what they found lying on the ground. At this time of the year, there was a healthy scattering of pinecones. If they were lucky, thick branches felled by wind still held twigs. And pine needles carpeted the rocks and soil beneath the trees. These were gathered and put into sacks, later to be used as mulch in vegetable plots or tied into wands for kindling. They never went home until they had sold every piece of firewood collected. And with their profits, they managed to buy eggs, a small joint of meat (on good days), and wheat and grains to make bread.
    David didn’t want that life for Diego and Juanjo. He’d not settled for drudgery, so why should they?
    He stopped. Next door to the main building was a hut full of straw and farming tools. He looked under his cloak. The girl’s eyes were wide open, yet she didn’t utter a sound. Was she sick? “I’m sorry. It will soon be over,” he told her. “You’ll have some warm milk and a nice soft bed, just as I promised.”
    She stared up at him, and her lips trembled at the sound of his voice. “Mama,” she finally whimpered.
    He opened the hut’s door, set the child on the floor, and then left immediately. Thank God. She wouldn’t remember this night, he thought, walking towards the house. He wondered which was the lesser of two evils. Was it keeping his family in ignorance about the murders and the girl or telling them everything? The decision he’d taken was not about evil, he then thought. It was about doing the right thing.
    His part in this heinous crime would disgust them – and telling them about it might put their lives in danger. But Garcia’s veiled innuendos were more than just threats used to scare him. He was convinced that