"Damned mice," Evan grumbled as he pushed past the door and into the kitchen of the house he and Marin shared with Jodie and Bill there at Brambles Orchard. "They're gettin' fatter 'n we are!" he complained, as he went for his rifle. Hopefully, a certain little girl wasn't around to overhear him as he grumbled to himself and anyone else who happened to be within earshot.

Jodie looked up from where she and Maggie were putting the finishing touches on a pie, utterly failing to hide her smirk at the comment that had been overheard by that certain little girl. "Papa, yer not shootin' mices, are you?" Maggie demanded, horrified by the thought of that. Never mind the smudges of flour all over her face and hands, it would take a braver man than most to stand up to that particular little girl when she was offended.

The look on Evan's face at that moment was priceless - a look of pure horror at the realization that his daughter had overheard him. He couldn't blame anyone but himself really, as he'd been the one to encourage her. It wasn't the first time he wished he'd have gotten her kittens instead. "Mice" No, I ain't shootin' mice. Ain't worth the bother. I'm shootin' varmints, Maggie. There's a big difference." Traps would probably have been a much better solution to their mouse problem or maybe a few cats, but why bring a sword to a gun fight, he figured

With Jodie's spluttering laughter in the background, Maggie glared at her father, little hands on little hips proving that she didn't believe a word of it. And she certainly had the lungs to call in reinforcements. "Mama! Papa's shootin' mice!" The gentle cadence of the piano in the other room faltered and stopped, hailing Marin's soon arrival.

Oh, lord. Now she'd done it. As if it wasn't enough that he'd been caught in the act by his own daughter, now she had to call in the big guns. "Not a word," he warned Jodie, waggling a finger at her as she had a good laugh at his expense. His little girl was already turning into quite the little woman, mirroring her mama's posturing and all. "Maggie, darlin'....I was wonderin' what you'd think about kittens."

"Cats eat mice," Maggie pointed out, still young enough to believe that, which put Evan's attempt at distracting her at a distinct disadvantage.

Marin paused in the doorway to the kitchen, looking from the snickering Jodie, to Maggie's defiant little form, and then to Evan, who was looking distinctly out of his comfort zone. She smothered a smile. "What's going on here?"

"No, they don't. They hunt..." He paused for a brief moment before going on. "...rats. They hunt rats, not mice." And everyone knew rats were bad and mice were harmless, right' Everyone who didn't have a mouse-infested barn, that is. "Nothin'," Evan replied, feigning innocence before he caught hell from his wife. "Just gonna take care of a few rats, that's all."

"Rats," Marin repeated, catching on quick as she glanced between the bristling little girl and her father. "Well, that's not good. They'll eat all the horses' food, and get into our apple crop, and they'll make us sick, so they've gotta go." Maggie faltered; this wasn't going quite the way she had expected it to. "Rats are bad, right?"

Evan met Marin's gaze, looking a little relieved that she'd decided to go along with him, but knowing he was likely to get a lecture later from either her or Jodie or both. "Rats are bad. I ain't gonna shoot any of your pets, Mags. Just rats." He wondered if he should tell her the truth, but how" He didn't want to break her heart, but pet mice weren't quite the same thing as barn mice.

The little girl grumbled for a moment, but Marin was there to rescue the conversation. "You know what the best thing to do with rats is, Maggie?" she offered. "You trap them. Maybe we should find some traps so Papa doesn't have to shoot every single rat he finds. Because if he does, the floor is going to be full of holes!"

This was offered in such a comical tone that Maggie giggled, dropping her hands from her hips. "Would that help, Papa" Only holes is bad, too."

Evan frowned thoughtfully, wondering why he hadn't thought of that. He had, actually, but had decided that shooting them would be faster, but then, he couldn't shoot what he couldn't see. There was only one problem with that solution. "Reckon it would, only you have to promise you won't go into the barn until it's safe. That goes fer Rob and Caleb, too." He wasn't so concerned about them being bit as he was about them seeing traps filled with dead mice that Maggie might see as potential pets.

"Because they might bite?" Maggie asked, her green eyes wide with curiosity now. Marin bit her lip, leaving Evan to field that one. They'd established that rats were bad, even if they were mice, and that traps were a solution. Now he was on his own.

"Reckon they might, 'specially if they're scared," he replied, setting the rifle aside and crouching down in front of his daughter. "Do you trust me, Mags?" he asked, taking her tiny hands in his large, calloused ones.

For all her displeasure at the thought of her Papa shooting mice, there was no question that Maggie loved her father very deeply indeed. She put her hands into his without a second thought, covering his palms with flour. "Course I do, Papa, don't be silly."

"And you know I would only do what I have to do to keep you and your mama and your brother safe, right?" he prodded further, needing her to know he wasn't doing this out of some sadistic desire to kill poor defensive creatures. It was all about what was best for his family and the farm.

"And Jodie and Bill and Rob and 'lise and Rob's Mama and Papa," she nodded, adding onto his list the extended version of her own. She'd grown rather attached to the new family on the Brambles, after all. "But why does shootin' rats make us safe?"

"Them, too," he agreed with a faint smile. They'd all gotten a little attached to the new family at the Brambles, and as far as Evan was concerned, anyone who lived on the property was as good as family. As for the other question, he looked to Marin for help, but realized he was probably on his own here. "Cause rats are bad," he explained briefly, circling back to the beginning again.

She smiled, leaning against the sturdy wall. "Now why would I do that?" she asked him innocently. "A pet was a good idea - look how close the children are since they bonded over the mice. But, love, you need to remember that you're on Rhy'Din, a place where magic and advanced science reign supreme. We're not limited in our options."

He frowned, not because she'd had to remind him of that simple fact again, but because he seemed to be having so much trouble with the concept. "I just ain't used to it, Mare. Old habits are hard to break." He'd gawked the first time he'd seen a horseless carriage. The first time he'd seen a dragon he'd nearly fainted. He was adjusted better now, but he still preferred the safety and simplicity of the farm and its surroundings.

"It's a lot to adjust to," she assured him, pushing from her lean to wrap her arms about his waist, leaning into him with a smile. "And you shouldn't expect to have all the answers at your fingertips, no one does. But you don't have to solve every problem yourself, Evan. We're a family, we look after each other. That means you get looked after, as well."

He still had fingerprint smudges of flour on his face, but he seemed unaware of it. "Me?" he echoed, a little surprised, as if he needed no looking after. Had he already forgotten who'd taken him in and tended him when he'd shown up out of nowhere with a bullet wound in his side" "I ain't sure what you mean, but if you wanna wash my back later, I'd be much obliged," he told her, gray-green eyes bright with amusement.

Marin laughed, extracting one hand to poke his side teasingly. "You know exactly what I mean," she told him in amusement. "You don't have to have all the answers, and you don't have to handle everything absolutely by yourself. We're all in this together, and everyone's got something to contribute, you know."

"Oh, well, if you wanna clean out the barn, be my guest," he teased back, arms going around her slim waist. "I tell you lately how purty you are?" he asked, smiling brightly back at her, half teasing, half serious.

"Well, gosh darn it, sheriff, I don't believe you have," she answered him in what was possibly the worst attempt at his accent she had ever offered up. Given that it came from behind a bright smile, it was a fairly safe bet that she was teasing.

"Ain't a sheriff," he pointed out earnestly, wondering if she was poking fun at him. He often mistook the teasing for fun poking, for some reason. There was a distinct difference in his mind. "Ain't never wore a badge. No stripes neither." He was referring to his time spent in the Army, which he rarely, if ever, spoke of. "You pokin' fun at me, Mrs. Lassiter?" he asked, furrowing his brows at her, and poking her in the side.

She smiled, rising up onto her toes to kiss his chin. "I'm teasing you, love, not poking fun," she assured him. "I would never poke fun at you, promise. Not unless the children need backing up." She winked up at him above her grin.

"Mmm," he murmured a reply, unsure whether to punish or reward her for her remark. He still thought she was poking fun at him, but he wasn't about to push the matter. It was the first time all day that they'd had a chance to be alone together since they'd rolled out of bed, and even then, they were sometimes woken by a couple of little urchins who had been known to jump on the bed in order to wake them. Evan had thought on more than one occasion that he'd lost his ability to father more children that way. "I'll take your word for it," he replied back at last, after a thoughtful pause.

"You had better," she smiled, refusing to rise to the bait that was him considering whether or not to believe her words. "Because if you don't believe me when I promise you I'm teasing, how can you believe me when I say I love you?" One brow rose above her smile as she held his gaze fondly. "I do love you, more than anything in this world or any other."

"I know," he admitted, feeling a little ashamed for having doubted her. It wasn't her that made him feel that way but something in his past he'd chosen not to tell her. "Is this where I say 'I love you, too'?" he said, not above a little teasing himself. He wondered what Jodie would say if they returned to the house with a little straw in their hair.

Knowing Jodie, she'd serve them extra portions at dinner to make up for losing all that energy out here in the chilly barn. Marin laughed once again, tucking her arms about his waist to lean into him, her ear against his chest listening to his heartbeat. "Only if you want to."

"Don't need words to know how we feel," said the quiet man, strong arms holding the little woman close, snug against his chest, his body radiating heat in the chilly barn. "You know I love you," he told her, in a quiet voice, not begrudging her those words, even if it wasn't often she heard them.

"I know," she promised him tenderly. And she did know - she saw it in his eyes each time he looked at her, she heard it in his voice, she felt it in his touch. In every interaction with the children, she knew he loved her in the way he said her name or called her Mama. She just hoped he saw as much in her.

it was a little hard for him to believe his luck, but he did see the love she felt for him in very much the same way she saw it in him. He couldn't deny that he was happy her with her, content even, perhaps even more than he had been with his Ellie. What more was there that needed to be said between two people but those three little words that summed up his feeling so completely. What else but a kiss" He bent his head to touch his lips to hers, softly at first, tenderly, but with growing, needful passion.

One thing being an active parent had taught Marin was to take these moments when and where they came to her. There was no more cooling off or stepping away in shyness; if anything, she'd grown bolder in her desire for her husband, for the man who had changed her world and made her the better for loving him. Rising up onto her toes, she deepened that kiss with a softly wanting moan, uncaring that every horse in the barn was currently watching them with varying degrees of interest.