I tried to fight it and failed, eyes closing, Amelia’s hand providing comfort.Darkness greeted me when I stirred again. Around me, busy sounds of a ...ospital - people talking, hurried footsteps, and muted conversations - filtered in through the closed door. Amelia was curled up in a chair at my bedside, asleep. She looked terrible and it hurt me. Breathing was slightly less painful, but I had no energy. I lay quietly watching her sleep. She was so beautiful, despite her bedraggled, unkempt. He looked down at his dead father when I rolled back the canvas, lifted his head, saw the redness on his forehead, cleared his throat and stood. "This here farm's mine now," he said. "mine and my brother's." How about the women?" I asked."Them too," he said, "the stupid bitches. Only good for one thing, both of 'em." He made a crude gesture with his fist and forearm. "Old man paid five pounds for the pair 'bout a year ago, after Ma died." How about I take some of the corn?" I asked, "maybe. More

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