"You better stay back outta the way," the man said, winking. "A pretty little thing like you might get lost in the sawdust."

"Is my brother around?"

"Oh, you must mean Roger. Yeah, you two do bear a resemblance." The man pushed his hard hat back and scratched. "So Roger's your brother, is he?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You don't have to call me Sir. Call me Hank. Hank Herbert." He scratched his stubbly whiskers. "What can I call you?"

"My name is Teresa. You can call me Terry."

"You want to go to the show with me tonight, Terry?" The big man sucked a tooth and met her eyes. She blinked and swallowed hard. She hadn't expected anything like that. This guy looked almost as old as her Uncle Nat.

"No," she gasped, stumbling backward.

"I know how to take care of a young one like you," Hank said, licking his lips like he was about to devour a choice piece of steak.

"See you later," Terry got out and hurried into the sawing shed. Nat waved and motioned her over. He had to shout above the scream of the big saw.

"We're about to break for lunch. Wait outside and I'll share a sandwich with you."

Terry found the shade of a big tree and waited until the whistle blew for noon break. Men poured out of the buildings and found places to open their lunches. After a while she saw Uncle Nat and her brother Roger heading her way. There was another guy with them who stumbled twice because he was staring so hard at her.

"This is my son, Darren," Nat told her. Darren tossed his hard hat on the grass and sat down next to Terry.

"That makes us cousins, don't it?" Darren said. He had a toothy smile and brown hair that hung straight and long over the back of his collar. His T-shirt looked about to rip at the seams from his muscles.