Only Lucas at Home Child, come sit here next to my rocker whilst I tell you why Lucas Buck is all alone in that big house of his, without another creature for company. When Lucas was just a boy, younger even than Caleb Temple, a mongrel pup followed him home one day. While loving and caring for that floppy-eared hound would have taught young Lucas a lot about Life's good lessons, his pa had it in mind to each him something else. See, none but his family knew that the Old Man was as cruel as he was cold. He swore that young'un needed some toughening, so one night, mad with meanness and liquored up, he shot that dog for no good reason, and made Lucas dig the grave for it with his own toy shovel. What Lucas Buck learned that night was anything close enough to touch you is close enough to hurt you, and he hasn't let much get close to him since. You probably heard it from other folks in Trinity that even termites avoid the Buck house, but it's not, like the gossips say, because Lucas is cruel to God's creatures. Big or small, they recognize something in Buck's nature that reminds them of their deadliest enemy, and they turn away to persevere, to survive. I imagine that Miz' Loris has told you that old Sister Grimm is possessed of the Second Sight, and certain gifts of knowing. Well, scoot closer to me while I tell you what my heart sees. Out in the woodshed behind the Bucks place there's a tiny spark of life. There's a sleek black widow spider, no bigger than a pea, spinning her tangled web in a low, dark corner near the door. Now, Buck's never seen her, but he can feel she's there: making herself strong, waiting for a husband to fertilize her eggs, hell, maybe make her a bedtime snack too. I can't tell if that troubles him or comforts him, but in the still, long night, I can hear a little boy's heart cry for his dog. Now get on home before the fireflies carry you off. Sr. Revilia Grimm, president Chapel of the West Academy of Divine Sciences and Auto Upholstery From: srgrimm@teleport.com (Sister Grimm)