Scraps of torn clothing, broken pottery and empty picture frames littered the roadside ditches.When they passed the place where Seth had scratched a m...p in the dirt, the boy looked for the hidden carbine, but he did not want to ask Mr. French to stop. Just down the hill was home. It was still there.He relaxed and smiled.They drove into the back yard scattering ducks and geese, a sign that his place had been spared by marauding bands of Confederates. The boy was surprised that neither Caroline. Potential wife.Lover.Friend.Now she really had to stop. Any more thought in that direction, and Cynthia would be reduced to vague acquaintance.Violet's feet had carried her to the shelter entrance. Apart from the new locks, the improvements here at the top of the shelter kept being put off. It was still just a set of double iron doors set in the ground, raised at a slight angle so water didn't pool over them. They were slightly wet, though, a brief spring rain having come through earlier that. More

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