The Errant Flock by Jana Petken Page A

he said. “Papa, trust me – they might be here because of me!” Grabbing Juan’s leg as he stood up, he begged again. “Don’t go out there. You will be of no use to Mama or the boys if you get killed as soon as you open this door. Don’t move! Papa, sit down!”
    Juan stared at David with eyes filled with confusion and terror. His legs buckled, and he fell to the floor, clutching the little girl in his arms. Throwing a scathing look at David, he hissed, “What have you done to us? Isa and my boys are out there!”
    David crawled on his knees to a split in the hut’s wall where the timber was brittle, causing it to crack. He put his eye against the long narrow opening and gasped with horror. It was impossible to count how many men were outside, and he couldn’t see what they were doing, but the bright orange glow lighting up the sky was undeniable. “No … They’re going to burn us out.” He grabbed a loose splinter of wood and pulled it, widening the hole. Squeezing one eye shut, he peered through the breach with his other eye. The house was already being torched. He saw flames rising into the air, whipping the walls, and dancing wildly in the strong wind.
                  Isa Sanz’s terrified screams pierced the air, drowning out the crackling flames and, for a brief second, silencing the attackers’ screams.
    David gripped the pommel of his sword and drew it from its leather belt. His eyes were like slits. Fear was replaced with rage. “No more hiding. I’m going to defend my family!”
    His father grabbed his arm and shook his head, horrified. “No, son,” he said tearfully, “you were right. We can’t get to them … God help us!”
    Tears streamed down David’s face. “I have to try,” he shot back. “Stay here and mind the girl. Promise me!”
    “You can’t fight what’s out there.” Juan’s teary eyes pleaded again. “They’ll kill you. Don’t you understand? They’re going to kill all of us!”
    The smell of smoke as well as burning straw and timbers sifted into the air and through the hut’s walls. The marauders were still yelling like animals. David strained his ears. He couldn’t hear his mother’s voice anymore, and he had not once heard a sound coming from Diego or Juanjo. Were they dead?
    The little girl was choking on smoke that she had inhaled. Juan covered her face with his blanket and clutched her closer to his chest.
    David’s eyes stung, and he coughed uncontrollably. The crackling sound of flames and disintegrating wood was overwhelming. Both men looked upwards and gasped. The hut’s roof was on fire. Flames had licked their way through the outer covering and were now inside. David’s heart sunk. “The ceiling is going to cave in!” he shouted above the noise. “We have to get out before we burn to death in here.”
    His father nodded, set the child on the floor, and tried to stand. Coughing, he lifted the child back into his arms and then faced the door, panting as though he had just raced a horse.
    David cracked open the door. He looked at his sword, held against his chest with its point raised in the air. His mind’s eye still saw the blood on it from earlier, and he inadvertently shuddered. Juan stood behind David, holding his throat, trying to stifle his coughing fit. Tears poured down his face, reddened with the scorching heat. Gripping one of his father’s shoulders, David gave it an affectionate squeeze, and then shouted above the noise. “As soon as we’re outside, run with the girl! Run as far as you can. I’ll try to hold them back!”
    The attackers saw David and Juan as soon as the hut’s door opened. Surprise crossed their faces, and they halted their onslaught on the property to watch the men stumble blindly into the open. Regrouping, they encircled their kill, shrieking with amusement at the pitiful sight of the two staggering men still unable to focus their smoke-filled eyes. The horses’ hooves pounded on the ground, at