Child of Fire by Harry Connolly Page A

cut timber anymore?”
    “Lots of reasons,” the man said. “The main one is thatwe’ve cut pretty extensively on our land already. There just aren’t that many trees out there worth harvesting anymore, where we can get them.”
    “And there’s the environmentalists,” Sara put in.
    “That’s right. Charlie Junior knew what to do about them. So did his father. But the latest Hammer doesn’t care about any of that.”
    “To be fair,” Sara put in, “Junior had let the whole thing slide the last ten years or so.”
    “It was his health, I think. When times got tough, he had breakdowns—”
    “More like seizures,” Sara said.
    “Yeah, seizures. He worked like crazy to get through tough times, and he paid the price. But for the last ten years or so, he had the tough times without the working like crazy.”
    “Not that you can blame the man. He would fall on the ground and thrash like a flounder in a boat.”
    “Really,” I said, just to contribute something.
    “Yes,” the man said. “Charlie Three seems to have inherited the family condition.”
    “And he’s a helluva success, too,” Sara said.
    “I’ll give him that,” the man said. “Now, Cabot has a clean bill of health. No seizures, near as anyone can see, but he did get the family timber business, and it’s sinking fast.” The old guy slid off his stool and moved closer to me. “My name’s Bill Terril. What’s yours?”
    “Ray Lilly,” I said. We shook hands.
    “Lilly, huh? That’s kind of a girly name.”
    “Sure is,” I said. “I’m the delicate type.”
    Bill chuckled as he looked me over. “I’ll bet.”
    “So, this Charlie Three,” I said, “he live in town?”
    Sara and Bill were instantly suspicious. “Why do you ask?” Sara said.
    “Whoa. It was just a question.”
    “We’re pretty protective of our own around here,”Sara said. “Especially of the Hammers. We look out for them. I don’t know a body in this town who wouldn’t. So, again: Why do you ask?”
    I shrugged. “I dunno. Rich guy, little town. It sounds like he could live wherever.”
    “Nope,” Bill said. “The Hammers created this town, and they stick by it.”
    I wondered how deep and widespread the support for the Hammer family extended. If Charles Hammer’s memory wasn’t wiped after this morning’s fight—and I’d have bet it wouldn’t be—he’d have gone into hiding. He might be tough to find without local help. I needed a way to drive a wedge between our target and the town.
    Amazing, really, how quickly I’d gone over to Annalise’s side.
    “Huh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “So who’s Cabot? Another one of the Hammers?” I asked.
    “He …” Bill paused. He thought about how he wanted to answer.
    Sara chimed in. “He’s Charlie Junior’s little brother. See, this town was founded by their grandfather, also named Cabot. He came out here with a crew of men and started cutting trees. He decided that the little Chimilchuk Inlet ought to be larger. He dredged it, widened it, and called it Hammer Bay.
    “He had a lot of people rushing here to find work. Built the town right up. He ran a tight ship. He owned the newspaper, the grocery, the speakeasies, all of it. If he could have paid everyone in company scrip, he would have.”
    “But he was fair,” Bill interrupted. “Everyone respected him.”
    “None of them were fair,” Sara said. “None of them. All they cared about was themselves and what they’d built. The only one who’s any different is Charlie Three.”
    “Dammit!” Bill snapped. “Charlie Senior was a greatman! He brought down governors and senators, and gave jobs to men who needed them. Men like my father.”
    “Don’t go all wacky on me, Bill,” Sara said. She waved as though he was a puff of smoke she didn’t want to smell. “Charlie Three is trying to put a foundation under this town. He could do it, too. We’d have decent incomes without having to worry about what happens when the