HE CAME TO the family in early spring. Cold rain loitered across the fine dark pastoral country that had produced so much wealth for the descendants of squatters.

Standing in his doorway, Hans watched the birds returning one at a time to the bare trees on the embankment. Hans had taken possession of the property following the recent death of his father-­in-­law. He had been living in the farmhouse with his wife and daughter for years, but now he was able to look down at the trees and the birds and know they belonged to him.