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My father’s shadow hit the ground, and I could hear his wheezing gasp. Mr. Sinclair’s casual calm had shattered – his body moved in juddery, qui...k motions, made all the worse by the shadow-puppet view of his movements. “I will not be called a damnyankee by some limey socialist. I know what you are, Mr. Wells, you are a traitor to our kind, to our people, to our way of life. And I. Will. Not. Tolerate. It.” The shadow lifted its pistol – and I clenched my jaw as Tjen’s fingernails dug into my. His hair was tousled from the wind. It was his lunch break at the Feed Mill, so his clothes were dusty. He finally stopped at a large stone house with a black, wrought-iron fence. The gate was open and he climbed the stone steps to ring the bell.Jamie waited for the door to open. He became hopeful that no one was home; he hadn't called first. It occurred to him that he might have done it that way on purpose. He could always say that he tried."Courage, Jamie," he told himself as he waited.. More

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