She tugged more insistently. He clicked it open. She struggled into the knapsack, running to catch up with her father and her father's friend.

They stood in a V with the girl the point. She could reach out and touch the stone. “They put the wrench on it.” Her voice was careful. “It lines up with the rifle on Mamie’s side.”

“Mamie,” murmured Abe Ider, repeating his daughter’s invented name for his mother whom she'd never met.

“I wanna a rifle carved into my gravestone too. A big one.”

“You should never have one.”