Kestrel Creed Prologue

PART ONE – POSSE

PROLOGUE

Water sloshed out of the buckets as Albert Towler plopped them down. “Drat,” he cursed. “Haste makes waste, ya lug.” Still, he managed to hold tight to the yoke handle. He had just a few more paces yet to go. Up the steps and into the house. “Paps maight have built the house a lil’ closer to the creek,” he complained aloud.

The brown, weedy ground greedily drank the spilt water. Thankfully no more than a few cupfuls had been lost, but after only a moment, the earth didn’t so much as show the dark stain of water. It had already returned to the worrying, milky-brown that had of late parched the surrounding countryside, and the farm along with it. If the winter had been this droughty, God only knew how the imminent dry spring would treat the land.