"That? No, no, of course not," the Ghost says. "That was a mess. This is...you must know that memories have a way of drawing people together, and that's what Christmas is about, too."

"You did a good job with the jam, Mom," Dan says through a mouthful of the dessert. "Tastes like summer."

The Ghost continues to address Bunny. "As to your earlier question, your friend lived down here two or three months a year, usually, sometimes more, from the day he was born until he was fifteen. His family felt...hunted."

Suddenly, there's a flashing red light and a loud, but not deafening alarm sounding. Little Jessica begins to wail, and the youngest boy claps his hands over his ears. The other Sartorises immediately tense up, but don't panic. Dan starts to soothe Jessica.

"Feds on Christmas?" Kitty asks, getting up to turn off the alarm. "Ain't they got respect for Jesus Christ?"

"Feds don't got respect for nobody," Mr. Sartoris says, walking to the hatch. "Stay calm, everyone. It's probably just another coyote got stuck in the wrong patch of the fence. Tabby, with me."

"Why does Tab get to go and not me?" one of the boys, about ten years old, asks.

One of the girls, about the same age, grabs a rifle from off the wall and some ammunition. "Because I'm the best shot and you know it. Maybe you oughta practice more."

She follows her father up the hatch. The rest of the family sits about the table, nervous. Mrs. Sartoris wrings her hands under the table. Dan keeps soothing Jessica, pulling her out of her high chair and into his lap.

Someone has to break the tension. So Dan does. "You know, I saw your aim improving a lot, Eli. Tab might have competition she don't even know about yet. I think you pegged that last deer we bagged from a full four hundred yards."

"Four hundred and fifty," Eli says, proudly, leaning away from the nervousness. "And with the sun in my eyes."