The Tree Shepherd's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

father to
see her cry. She quickly snatched her hand out of his and
stood up. She hitched her messenger bag over her shoulder
and reached her hand out for her cell phone.
    He searched her face with those woodland green eyesthe same color as hers, unusual enough that strangers
asked her if she wore colored contact lenses. She'd secretly
been proud that this was something she'd inherited from
her father. A piece of him that was a part of her forever.
    Sometimes Mom would stroke her hair and say, "Keelie,
you have beautiful eyes." She'd have a faraway look on her
face. Mom's brown eyes could be cold and dark, like little
rock chips, and there was usually very little wistfulness
about her.
    Her father handed Keelie her cell phone and the battery. She snapped it together and shoved it back into her
bag, not bothering to wipe it clean. "Where's Ms. Talbot?"
    He seemed disappointed. Good. What did he expect,
a love-fest?
    "She left," he said, still kneeling on the flagstones.

    The blood drained from Keelie's face. Her lips felt cold
and stiff. She didn't care for Ms. Talbot, but she was her
last connection to the life she shared with her mother, and
now she'd abandoned her at this medieval freak show.
    "She didn't say goodbye," she cried, and hated the piteous sound of her voice.
    Her father stood up, towering above her. "She said she
had to catch her plane back to California. Don't worry,
Keelie, it's going to be okay. I won't leave you."
    "Again, you mean?" Keelie fought back tears. His hurt
look made her feel good. She'd been hurting for two weeks.
Take that, Zeke Heartwood. That's what happens when
you uproot someone and force them to leave their home.
    A woman cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but how much
is this dresser?" She looked at Zeke, waiting for an answer.
    The woman had bleached blonde hair with half an
inch of roots showing, and she wore a laced leather vest
with no blouse underneath and a long leather skirt. Mugs,
a sword, and a leather pouch hung from a black belt with
silver spikes. She wore wide leather bracelets, Xena-Warrior-Princess style, bristling with silver spikes.
    None of the costumed women Keelie had seen so far
had been dressed so outrageously.
    Her father seemed to study Keelie's reaction, then
turned to the lady. "I'll be right back to answer your questions. I need to see to my daughter."
    Despite her resolve to be less needy, a lump formed in
Keelie's throat when he called her his daughter.
    "Let's go up to our apartment," he said. Our apartment.
    One of the mud players who'd teased her earlier entered the shop. He carried a paper grocery sack with a mound of
yellow fabric sticking out of it. He looked a little sheepish
when he saw Keelie.

    "Hey, Zeke," he said, casually eyeing the woman in
black leather. "I thought your daughter might like to borrow these. Seeing how folks might mistake her for one of
the Muck and Mire Show Players in her present garb, we
thought we'd seal her fate." He grinned and handed the
bag to her father.
    Zeke opened the bag and pulled out a pile of fabric. He
shook it, and the material fell open to reveal a tunic that
seemed clean but was dirt-stained to a dingy brown, and a
huge, full yellow skirt. He turned it around, examining it.
    Horrified, Keelie saw that the skirt had big, red hand
prints painted on the backside. The last item he removed
from the bag was no better-a purple bodice with frayed
pink ribbons. On the front and back were big square
patches with huge zigzag stitches.
    "That can't be for me," she whispered.
    "You'll need garb for every day," her father said. "You
want to fit in, don't you?"
    "Fit in where, the circus?" Heat crept into her cheeks at
the thought of walking around in that hideous outfit.
    The mud guy laughed, but her father frowned at her,
as if he'd suddenly realized that daughters weren't all sugar
and spice. Take that, Keelie thought.
    "They're clean," Zeke said. "You'll only have to wear
them