You want things right, you have to put ’em right yourself.” “With your bones and your brains, eh?” “And your heart, Rikke. And your heart.” She squeezed her father’s hands, so thin and crooked. “I worry they’ll wear you down.” “Me?” He gave a smile that was convincing no one. “Never.” “They already have.” He smiled again. Truer this time. “That’s what it is to be chief. You make the hard choices so your people won’t have the trouble of ’em.” He glanced about at the weed-choked beds as he stood, brushing off his knees. “One day I’ll tame this bloody garden, you’ll see. You just sit in the
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