Review: Stephen Tarpley’s Sheep Gate

I haven’t heard from Stephen Tarpley since I did The Dream for our little comic combo, but I just got Stephen’s Sheep Gate in the mail today and I had to throw a shout out to it. It is indie greatness. Everything one looks for in an indie comic, it’s got. Gritty over detailed art, a twisting storyline that keeps you in suspense, and especially, genuine originality.

The good:
It’s not what you’d expect. The story is engaging and unpredictable. I’m sure you’ve all seen christian “sheep” comics before. This is nothing like those. So don’t worry. I can’t say too much about the story because I don’t want to give away anything, but let’s summarize this issue with “outlawed sheep and flying buffalo”. I hope I didn’t spoil too much already.

Unfortunately this book is only a first issue. One of many, I’m sensing from Stephen’s after-word. The story is incomplete, but there is much to hope for. I look forward to reading more about what makes Sideburn tick, the meaning behind the reoccurring noose, the ultra-cool sheriff, and of course the buffalo. Sheep Gate is promising much from its first issue and based on the plot progress in the first 42 pages, I don’t expect to be disappointed.

The not-so-good:
Stephen’s art style is great and perfect for the story atmosphere. Sadly, however, it does have the typical amature production problem of being muddy and can be a bit difficult to read. That being said, it’s not the worse. Everything is legible and understandable. It just takes a bit more time to read through in some places.

The story telling has the same problem. There is a lot of energy and creativity in the paneling of Sheep Gate. Sometimes though, things get a bit out of place and the reading doesn’t go as smoothly as a reader would hope. Once again, this is not a wall to the story, merely uncomfortable footing. The story still reads well, you just have to pay a bit closer attention. Probably not an easy read for younger readers or people who may be just starting to get into comic books.

The number one quarrel would have to be the fact that this is a first issue. Sure a longer story is great, but according to Stephen, the first issue was started way back in 2000. That’s a little discouraging. However, I’m no stranger to long production times and I’m sure that with enough encouragement, Stephen will come through with more issues!

Unfortunately Stephen’s website is down and presumably out of date considering its URL. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, though. Sheep Gate can be purchased through christiancomics.net. It’s highly recommended for indie comic fans and has a gorgeous color cover by Kneon Transitt, something for everyone! So go eat up!

chapter 09

“‘Black Widow Wasps?!’” I raged. “What kind of god forsaken name is ‘Black Widow’? And why is it wasp? That’s not a bee at all! They don’t make honey, Tremarch!”
“I know normal wasps don’t make honey, but these are not normal wasps! They’re bees! Which are also wasps and… I don’t know! They are what they are and they do make honey!” I turned away, kneaded my brow between my fingers and moaned in exasperation.

We continued to trudge along the thin, yet worn, path from the cutting grounds. My head was heavy. Tremarch’s… boots… were heavy. And loud.
Ugh. “They know we’re here.” Were you trying to be sneaky with all that heavy equipment?

We were still surrounded by Royal Oak, as well as many other smaller trees intermingling amongst the magnificent trunks: thin birch, pointy spruce, and many fuzzy ferns. The afternoon sun still shone bright and warm through the humid forest canopy, but the trees grew paler and woollier as we walked. A soft string wiped across my cheek, just brushing my eyelid, and stuck there firmly. I rapidly waved it off.
Yuck, cobwebs! This trip was looking up when I didn’t have to do anything but this is going to suck! Not to mention there’s something up with the name “Black Widow Wasp”. More so than the fact that a bee is being called a wasp… Geeze! Tremarch better get me to town tomorrow!

While passing under a particularly hairy branch on our path, a small dark clump fell and landed on my shoulder, scurrying down my arm. A spider! I frantically scratched the puny menace from my sleeve.
Eeeew! I hate those things!
I quickly became paranoid of any low looming branches we had to pass. Shivering, my hands were kept at ears height in anticipation of any more dark objects falling in my direction.
Now I get it— all these trees, all this white stringy stuff covering them. It’s all spider webs! Disgusting! Tremarch! What are you expecting from a young girl like me?

Tremarch kept his eyes straight down the path, using his axe as a walking stick. While I occasionally stumbled in pot holes and over unearthed roots, Tremarch’s stumpy legs had every inch of the path memorized. Gracefully gliding from one step to the next without so much as a stub of the toe. We passed under another low branch and I bent forward to avoid the ghastly, sticky threads which reached below it. Whomp. Something thick landed on my back and I felt a thin spiny finger curl over my shoulder.

“EEEEEK!!!” I shot my back up straight and the light from Tremarch’s blade slung down behind me. The finger disappeared with a sloshing sound and with a heavy shove, Tremarch pushed me into the bushes. I huffed through the dust and pulled open a hole in the wall of leaves so that I could see. Then quickly broke off as many of the tiny branches poking me as I could. Tremarch ran down the path a few steps and swung his axe down again. A second dark, spiky figure burst into two and wriggled on the ground. My breath shook and I stumbled my way through the bushes, following beside the path as best I could.

A light buzzing filled the air and Tremarch continued to jog up the path, through long curtains of cobwebs dangling from the branches above. Yuck. Even the bushes were getting thick and sticky with webs.

Another demonic figure leapt at Tremarch and he knocked it away with the back of his axe. It screeched and sailed to a thud against a tree directly beside me. I took a glance at it but quickly turned away. It was as large as Tremarch’s head, hair included, and it’s long spike like legs curled up over its striped body in dead insect fashion. A broken wing jutted out and golden goo oozed and saturated the short fur covering its two part body. I flinched and squirmed, crawling further down the path.

“Sally!” Tremarch shouted, beginning to use his axe on the thickening blankets of web which now coated the entire forest floor. “Once I distract the queen, run to the hive and get the honey!”
“Which one’s the queen? Where’s the hive?!” I tried to holler back but the growing roar which filled the trees drowned out my voice.

More insects dove at Tremarch. The shrieks of their wings pierced our ears. With his sun filled axe, he sliced them in mid air. Tremarch and I pushed through a final layer of cobweb and seemed to have found ourselves in the middle of the nest.

The white holey walls all seemed to curve around this area which was about the size of Tremarch’s back yard. As if we had entered into some kind of haunted planetarium. I was this overwhelmed when I came here willingly. I couldn’t imagine what it might have been like to unwittingly stumble into something like this. Like I could’ve done if I ever would have tried to make it to town by myself.

Black Widow Wasps. These were them. They were striped like bees. Their bodies were long and had fangs like wasps. Long antennae flipped about the air smelling Tremarch and their wings fanned with speed beyond sight. Each had upon its back the renown symbol of danger: the Black Widow’s red hourglass.
Why didn’t the name clue me in the first time I heard it? Black Widows have nothing to do with bees! They’re spiders!
These things were arachnids! They all had two body segments and eight legs! It was also no doubt that they were responsible for the silver nets which lined the forest.

My two least favorite creatures.
They covered the floor, the webbed walls, the webbed ceiling, and hovered in the air. Each spaced a body length apart from the other, all at once they began to advance on Tremarch. I fearfully curled up into a ball in my length of bushes and peered through the leaves onto the scene. Surprisingly the insects didn’t invade the bush or even seem to notice my presence.

Tremarch’s smell probably out powers my own.
Occasionally one would buzz by just above my head. The vibrations of their wings was maddening.

Tremarch unleashed the full force of his axe. With wide, lightning fast swings the bees were bursting all around him in gooey demise. Legs and wings flew from the scene. Tremarch’s eyes were wide as he puffed out grunts with each swing. The bees didn’t let back. Five after four, they attacked from the air, the ground, jumping in between, and Tremarch gallantly slew them all without loosing his footing.

Several of the bees stood upon branches out of reach and spat streams of glimmering webbing from the upturned ends of their abdomens. The collected sticky twine fell heavy and covered Tremarch but it didn’t phase him. The webbing broke open with every swing of his arms and the bees couldn’t touch him.

Tremarch cleared the air of all flying bees and with a boot of his armored foot, sent a crawling pile flying away! With a heavy grunt he pulled the strings from his eyes and readjusted his grip on the axe. Another pile of bees lunged at him and Tremarch cut them all from the side. The golden mist of unmade honey sparkled in the air and splattered against the netted trees.

I tucked my arms and legs in close to my body, keeping them as far away from the edges of my safety bush as I could. The beating of wings and the shrieks of dying bees echoed and scratched across the walls of the nest. The bees were clumped together tighter than ever around Tremarch, but there were noticeable spaces developing at the other side of the nest. In fact, I could begin to see the shape of a large Royal Oak just off the far wall. The peeling white tree had a large opening which glowed with a familiar golden reflection, like that of the sun bounding from the walls of Tremarch’s house, but it was suddenly blackened as it was crossed over by a massive shadow.

chapter 08

With a wide swoop and an echoing “crack”, Tremarch threw his axe from shoulder to shoulder! From Tremarch’s striking point a thin black line speedily crept halfway through the tree and exploded out a cloud of dust.

“You might want to step out of the way, Love. These things got quite some force.” My heart quickened nervously as I pushed myself off the trailer and hustled to the edge of the bushes. Tremarch lined himself up with the trailer and anchored a foot against the tree, just above the mark from his first swing. Another mighty swoop and he sunk his axe into the trunk. A screech shot out and the crack spread all the way around the giant oak. With a kick of Tremarch’s armored boot the tree teetered momentarily, twirled, and came thrashing down.

“Yipe!” Escaped my mouth as the tree thundered against the trailer. The ground shook and a shower of leaves, dust, and branches followed. I covered my head and squinted towards the cloud which enveloped the fallen tree. The trailer’s front wheels had bounced up high while the rear ones sank to the axle in the soft dirt. It remained standing on end like a spooked horse with the long top of the tree bent against the ground. With just two chops Tremarch had brought down the mighty Royal Oak.

Hopping over the fresh oak stump, Tremarch waddled to the end of the trailer, “Would you pick the smaller branches off the body for me, dear?” With my eyes wide I nodded silently and scoured the tree trunk for branches thin enough for me to break off.

While I reached out for a nearby twig, the tree shook violently. Three loud cracks and the trailer’s front two wheels crashed to the ground. Tremarch wiped his axe head off on the pant leg sticking out over his boots and put it aside. Squatting down, he placed the flat of his palms against the underside of the trailer. Without a grunt, Tremarch lifted the trailer’s wheels out of their indents and set them on level ground.

I don’t know how to treat this…
I had no idea Tremarch had such monstrous strength. He was running up and down the tree with his axe in front of him slicing through any large or small branch in his way. I was still staring, mouth opened, when he finished and came back to my end.
“Get that last one for me, would you please?”
There was a twig sticking out in front of me, no longer than the length of my hand. I snapped it off. Tremarch smiled widely and strolled away to the end of the tree.

I guess he likes his work. What the heck did he need me for?
With a flick of his axe, the tree top was sliced off and Tremarch pulled the tip of the armless trunk above his head. Hand over hand, Tremarch stepped towards the trailer, pushing the trunk up as he went. As if he was setting up an extremely tall ladder, Tremarch stood the tree back up on its end. It flipped over crashed into the deck of the trailer just the like before. Again with a cloud of dust the wheels had sunk into the dirt and another yip escaped my mouth.

Holding the thick trunk between his arms as best he could, Tremarch pushed and shuffled the tree into position beside the other log. Together they were slightly wider than the trailer, but somehow he managed to keep both pieces on deck.
I don’t care what Tremarch says! With this kind of power he has to be a dwarf of some kind. This certainly isn’t human…
Once more, with three swings of his axe, Tremarch had cut off the remaining overhang of tree trunk and proceeded to flip it over onto the trailer. I squatted down with my hands over my ears and braced myself. The tree hit the deck and the ground thundered as expected. Then it shook. Then it screeched and vibrated. A sound I had forgotten filled the air and my head, jolting awake the same piercing fear as the first time I heard it. I fell to my bottom in the trench of the path and fought to keep my hands over my ears. A real shriek burst from me then the sound and shaking suddenly quieted. It was much quicker this time, but no doubt, the very same experience as I had in front of Tremarch’s food pantry.

“Is that what makes the earthquakes?! You throwing trees around?” I calmed my breathing long enough to snap at Tremarch.
“No… That was the bees.” Tremarch held onto the end of the trailer and scanned the tree tops. “They know we’re here now.” Suddenly a dark coldness began, drainingly pulling at my insides from my spine.

With a very real grunt of effort this time, Tremarch once more lifted the trailer out of the sunken ground. He proceeded to restrain the logs against the deck by tossing the excess rope I had untangled over, under, and around the trailer. He knotted them until he was satisfied the logs would remain fixated for the journey home. Returning to the guiding rail in front, Tremarch began to weave the trailer through the shallow valleys of the tree stumps until it was facing back towards home. I remained silent and frozen in my spot on the ground.

Tremarch approached me. “Buck up, young girl! Their bark is worse than their bite! They’re just bees after all!” My eyes crawled up the sides of their sockets to look at Tremarch’s gleaming, stocky figure.
“That was not a bark and they are no bees.” Expressionlessly I raised my legs up, but kept my face level with Tremarch’s. “What was that?! This isn’t something I just can’t worry about! The whole forest was shaking! How can bees do something like that?! I mean, certainly not bees I could ever survive against! Now what exactly did you bring me out here for?!” I shouted. Tremarch had taken a step back. I dropped my chin down and panted to regain my breath.

“Sally… I really do need your help.” Tremarch recomposed himself and looked me softly in the eyes. I sighed heavily and pulled myself upright.
“What exactly are we doing here?”
“Gettin’ double the order. That greedy king wants two pots of honey this time. Two! One pot is no problem for me. A dozen worker bees’ll carry one pots worth of honey, but two pots! We’ll have to raid the main nest.” I went pale. “Do not worry! I promise you, Sally! You will not be in harm’s way. Not even for a second! So long as you keep you’re legs strong. Squeal is the most they can do.” Tremarch had my hands in his, very concerned like. “I will handle all the bees myself. Not one will go near you. But I need you to collect the honey. There’s a pot already near the hive waiting for us. Once I draw the bees, I need you to fill the pot then we’ll escape back this way. I’ll make sure the bees won’t even chase us this far.”

I was left very unenthusiastic about my immediate future, but I couldn’t shake the look in Tremarch’s eyes, beckoning me. For anybody else I probably would have ran away, but something was different about Tremarch.
“What kind of bees were these again?”

“Black Widow Wasps.”

chapter 07

What?
I suppose Tremarch doesn’t have double the time to do double the work, the month was fast passing by, but I didn’t want to be a lumber-jane. I’ve never even chopped wood before, let alone full grown trees. I’d probably throw my back out! I’d be stuck in bed again when it’s time to leave then I’d have to wait another month before Tremarch would take me to town! No way! Not going to happen! Then again, Tremarch had taken such good care of me… I couldn’t just say “No,” could I?

“No. I don’t want to.” I spoke to myself the next morning as I waited for Tremarch to come out of his shed and take me tree cutting. We spent the previous evening getting ready. Tremarch gave me some of his clothes to wear while working: some baggy pants, which were shorts on me, and a thick plaid shirt. I had my short auburn hair through a bandanna which pointed down my back. My shoes were already filthy beyond repair so there was no need for me to borrow boots from Tremarch.

Along the far side of the shed was a long, flat, wooden trailer. It was probably a good 3 times the length of Tremarch’s house. Funny I didn’t notice it before, I guess the bushes covered it well. This trailer carried on its deck a large pile of thick rope with metal links tied to their ends. Apparently Tremarch pushes this thing by the thick rail in it’s front, all the way to his cutting grounds then to town and back.
“I can’t carry trees by myself, but I can push them!” he had said. Still seems impossible to me. This trailer had to have been as heavy as a house even without any cargo.

The door to Tremarch’s shed opened and out came a familiar face. The rest of him though, wasn’t. Tremarch stomped out of the shed covered in armor akin to that within the far room of the house. It was more streamline than most of the others, looked lighter. It was a simple breastplate, shoulder pads, helmet, and boots. It shone a bright yellow and was bordered with many detailed inscriptions. Tremarch also carried an axe to match. The axe was as tall as him and the head had a stylish hole between the handle and the blade. I mean, it had to have been stylish. I couldn’t think of any other reason it would be there.

“Are we ready then, missy?” Tremarch beamed.
“Ummm…” I didn’t know what to say. That time I tried to ask about his collection, he didn’t seem interested in armor and things, but apparently he also keeps some in his shed. “Do we really need armor to cut trees? Are they that great that they need a special axe?” Tremarch looked as if he didn’t realize what he was wearing.
“Nah. Not at all. I could cut ‘em down with just my regular axe, but I’ll be doing a little more than cutting down trees, myself.” I was confused, but that hadn’t been uncommon. “Let’s be off then!”

Tremarch positioned himself between the extended rail and the body of the trailer. I hopped on in front of one of the massive wooden wheels and dangled my legs off the side. Tremarch started pushing. The vehicle smoothly made its way down a precut forest path just perfectly fit for the trailer. The uneven ground didn’t bother much with the giant wheels treading over it. Tremarch pushed slow but consistently. As hard as it was to believe, the trailer didn’t seem to take much effort from him. It just seemed a little awkward that he was pushing that big plank like a horse pulls a buggy.

The heavy clunks and clinks from Tremarch’s armor echoed closely as the green and blue forest thickened. It’s canopy covered the ground in shadows, but the sunlight retaliated in thin beams, piercing the layered canvas above us. The insects shrieked noisily in the distance but sharply silenced as we approached. I sighed and wondered what exactly was going to take place today.

“Oh, by the way, Sally!” Tremarch broke the whispers of the forest, “The other day when I told you I wasn’t just a lumberjack, I didn’t mean to say I was a carpenter. Well, I am a carpenter too, really, but I meant there was something before that.” Tremarch cleared his throat and gave an extra push, jostling the ride. “I’m also a bee keeper.”
“Bee keeper?” My eyes widened.
“Ah huh! And a royal one at that!” Tremarch boasted. “You see, every month, with the collection of lumber, I also collect a pot of honey. For the king who resides in town.”
“A bee keeper?” I repeated.
“Well, now that I think about it, I guess a town that holds a castle is a bit more than a town, now isn’t it?”
“Bees?” I squeaked.
“Now don’cha worry, hun. I can handle the bees myself. Look, we’re almost at the cutting grounds! We’ll get the trees out of the way first. Trees before bees!” Tremarch laughed.

I really detest people who don’t tell me what they have planned before they expect me to do it.
I’d better not have to do anything!Oh, how I hate bees. Always buzzing and stinging, buzzing and stinging. They’re almost as creepy as spiders. But what was that about the town having a castle? Is it a small castle, or a big town? Now that I think about it, I was originally headed for this region’s capital. Could I be that close already? Oooooooh! If only I had money, I could probably do some shopping! It’s been so long since I’ve had a change of clothes!

The trailer pulled into a small clearing between several massive stumps. Each stump was about as big around as Tremarch’s house. Some possibly as wide as his whole yard.
“Don’t tell me…”
“Yup! These are them!” Tremarch bounced from behind the rail and put his gauntlet against one of the giant stumps. “Royal Oak! The only lumber our king will accept for use in his palace. They grow right up into the clouds! I just need half of one of these a month to keep my clients happy. We’ll take a younger one so I can fit all the pieces on my trailer.”

Tremarch strolled over, axe in hand, to a tree that was probably a bit fatter than his shed back home. I cranked my neck and looked as far up as I could. The trees seemed to extend for miles. No branches or leaves within measurable distance. Just ridges of scaly bark going straight up.

The bark really was scaly, or something. It was covered in a faintly white film with dark holes exposing the deep, pale ridges of the tree, as if the tree was wearing an old woolly stocking with lots of threading pulled out.

“Lay those ropes out across the plank for me, would you, deary?” Tremarch pointed his axe head in my direction then turned to size up his chosen tree. I scurried to try and unravel all the rope that had been resting on the back of the trailer. The rope was pretty long, starting from the metal circlet ends, I weaved it back through a couple knots and soon had most of it untangled. There were three ropes total and I laid each across the width of the trailer. I did my best to find their centers but gave up when I found they were too long to try and fold in half. I just guessed and tossed the extra line into clumps off the edges of the trailer.

Giving a glance towards Tremarch, I saw he was ready to begin chopping.

chapter 06

It was another warm day and birds were singing to each other like broken records. Occasionally even screeching like a skidding needle.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much free time.
Well, technically I had nothing but free time since I left home, but I was always on the move. I had to get to my next destination before a deadline. Before dark, before I got hungry, before a farmer decided to look for whoever took a shortcut through his garden and creatively made jack-o-lanterns of his prized watermelons. This time I had to wait before I could move to my next destination. Makes me wonder whether there’s a difference between “deadline” free time and “waiting” free time.
Whatever.

In boredom, I even began resorting to childhood games. I’d been poking at a line of ants behind Tremarch’s house for at least 15 minutes. I had already made myself a lovely tiara out of some bendy branches from a berry bush. The local terrain had made my shoes almost as muddy as Tremarch’s boots.
Geez, old man. It wouldn’t take a month to get ready if you would actually leave your shed and get some work done.

A light bubbling in the air came from the river, a few paces behind the bushes surrounding the rear of the house. I could hear a fish jump every once in a while, snapping at whatever dumb bug might have gotten too close to the water. There wasn’t much of a breeze that day, but the shadows of the trees kept the ground cool and moist.

On the back of my hands, I could see mud prints curling up from my palms. I really don’t like the gritty feeling of dirt, but unless I locked myself indoors, it was pretty much impossible to stay clean. Springing up from my squatting position, my dress swayed itself straight, and I trudged through the bushes towards the river.

The river wasn’t really big, hardly even river size. It bent behind clumps of trees, so I couldn’t see how far it went, but it was only a couple strides across, and only got about waist deep. Which was plenty deep for Tremarch, I suppose.

I tucked my dress back behind my ankles and knelt down by its side. The dark, cool water flowed like liquid steel against my hands and between my fingers as I scrubbed the dirt away. A cluster of small yellow berries hung down from my tiara and bounced in the corner of my eye.
Sigh.
The water flexed and twisted beneath my gaze and a long face with skinny whiskers stared back at me.
A what?
“Eeeeeeeeeeek!” A pale green streak launched out of the water and viciously attacked my face! Between several high pitched yelps I shook my head back and forth.

What is it?! What is it?! It doesn’t matter! Just get off!

Cold wet slime was splattering against the sides of my face and I threw my head as hard as I could towards the ground. A slight snap and my tiara flung out in front of me. A catfish the size of my forearm bounced towards the river. My eyes were wide and my bangs sprawled towards the sky. Panting, I tried to catch my breath.

I could’ve sworn that was a real face!

With a huff I whipped my blouse up and rubbed my slime coated face in it. The rough cloth burned over my skin as it scantly absorbed the slippery film. I forced myself up and stomped over to my limp lying tiara.

Not only did I feel violated, but I had the strangest notion that that fish had tried to mug me. Which I guess it did, since it was after the berries of my tiara. The point, I mean, is that even though it was an animal, I felt strangely offended!

I scooped up the yellow spotted twist of branches and dropped them in a pocket along the hip of my blouse.
No more fish are going to rob me of my nature crafts!
Stumbling a step, I went back to the house.

Tremarch was sitting on the house porch, staring solemnly into the forest. A smile floated across his face when he noticed me approaching.
“Are you still sitting around?” Oops. That sounded a bit arrogant. “Was something here?” I noticed the ground in front of the house was more chewed up than normal. Like something heavier than me and Tremarch had scuffled across it.
“Aye. My client was just here. Charioted in from town. Says that he’ll be needing double the order this coming shipment.”
“Oh?” There was still something rather hollow about Tremarch’s expression. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all, m’dear. I was just worried that my client might not take kindly to the idea of me having a guest staying with me at the cabin. Thought I was right found out when you screamed back there, but luckily the horse heard before the man. Decided it best to turn round and go home to calm ‘im down. Very lucky.”

I wasn’t aware that this was such a big deal. What could these people who hired Tremarch have against him lending his house to the needy? I guess Tremarch did say that these people specifically chose this location for him to work, but what reason would they have to isolate him?

The trees waved in the breeze.
“Sally?”
“Uh huh?” I’d gotten used to that name now. How the heck would I break to him that it’s not my real one?
“If you don’ mind me askin’, where have you come from? Who might your parents be?”

“Hehh?” I wasn’t expecting this. I’d already given him a fake name, I decided I might as well answer honestly this time. “I’m from a small, spread out village to the east. I’m not sure exactly where from here, since I was walking a long time before entering this forest. My parents are simple, I guess. We used to grow grapes and make crafts to sell.” Detailed, yet vague— the perfect answer!
“What caused you to decide to leave home and journey out here?”
Why the sudden interest?
“Nothing complicated, really!” I smiled nervously and waved my hands in innocent gesture. “I just wanted to see more of the real world, never having left the village and all. That and I wanted to get away from mom and dad. Typical teenager, right?” I tried to laugh the conversation to an end.

“Sally.” Tremarch looked serious. “I wonder if you wouldn’t give me a hand with my work. It is a double order.”