A Brother's Price

came from a rifle.
    Who would be shooting in their woods? Damn her, had Corelle gone out hunting? Eldest had told all four of the middle sisters to keep at the house, to forgo even fence mending, while their mothers and elder sisters were gone.
    Another shot rang out from the creek bottom, then a third, close after the second. The back door banged open. His younger siblings spilled into the house like a covey of quail, the littlest sister running in first, the older ones doing a slower rear guard, scanning over their shoulders for lost siblings or strangers.
    Blush, second oldest of the youngest sisters, stationed herself at the door, tapping shoulders to keep count. “Drill teams! Prepare for attack! Shutter the windows, bar the doors, and get down the rifles. Fifteen! Sixteen!” Blush snapped, and tagged Jerin. “Three.” Then pointed to the cradle. “Four?”
    “Four boys,” Jerin said automatically, although stunned. Sixteen? There should be seventeen youngest, and the four middle sisters.
    Blush dropped the bars on the upper and lower halves of the back door. First downstairs, then upstairs, the shutters banged shut and their bars rattled into place. Little girls moved through the shutter slats of sunlight, working in teams of mixed ages to load two rifles and guard every window.
    “What’s going on?” Jerin asked. “Who’s shooting? Where are Corelle and the others?”
    Blush gave a look of disgust that only a twelve-year-old could manage. “Corelle, Summer, Eva, and Kira went over to the Brindles‘. courting Balin Brindle. Heria said she thought she heard riders in the woods. She took her rifle and went out to have a look-see.”
    “Heria!” The fourteen-year-old oldest of his youngest sisters had more courage than sense. “Holy Mothers above!”
    “Eldest is going to skin Corelle alive,” one of the youngest whispered.
    There was a ripple of agreement.
    “Watch the windows!” Blush barked.
    Too precious to risk in a fight, the boys were left with nothing to do but whisper. Liam complained about his blocks, left outside in the sudden retreat. Doric speculated that it was only Corelle in the woods, doing a bit of hunting while coming home from courting. Jerin would have liked to believe that—but Corelle knew perfectly well there was no need for fresh meat with the elder half of the family gone and a thirty-pound goose in the oven. Most of the youngest still ate like birds.
    “What do we do?” a youngest asked Blush after several minutes of silence.
    Blush clutched one of the family’s carbine rifles. “We stand guard until Corelle comes back.”
    A thunderous pounding at the back door stopped them cold.
    Blush scurried to Jerin’s side, the soldier training that had been carrying her vanished, leaving only a frightened twelve-year-old. “Jerin?”
    Jerin swallowed his fear and whispered, “Identify the enemy and establish numbers.”
    Blush nodded rapidly, her eyes wide and rounded with fear. Still, she managed to shout, “Identify yourself!”
    The pounding stopped. “Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!”
    A sigh of relief went through the room.
    “It’s Heria!” Doric cried and was immediately hushed.
    “Everyone, get to posts.” Blush struggled to return to their training. “What’s the password, Heria?”
    “I don’t remember!” Heria wailed beyond the door. “Lemme in!”
    Blush looked at Jerin, unsure what to do.
    “Use the spyhole.” Jerin gave Blush a slight push toward the kitchen door. “Make sure she’s alone. Then let her in, but only open the bottom half of the door.”
    Blush had to fetch a stool to reach the spyhole. She covered the delay by calling out, “You know we can’t let you in without a password, Heria!”
    There came a minute of cursing that would have made their father blush and their grandmothers proud. Finally,
    Heria remembered the week’s password. “Teacup! It’s ‘teacup’!”
    “Well, the whole county knows it now!” Blush complained. “She’s alone! Let her in.”
    Heria pushed her rifle and ammunition pouch in first. then scrambled in on hands and knees. Once inside, she remained crouched on the flagstones, panting, as the door was bolted shut again. The red stain of blood on her shirt made Jerin forget to stay out of the way. He dropped down beside her.
    “Are you hurt?” He tried to get her up so he could see where she bled. “Did someone shoot you?”
    Heria shook her head, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, and