Zithrusa's music had been more melancholy than usual this night, she missed her little Butalos, but had ambitions for him that were stronger than moth...ring. She had always been all about the status, and having her son as potential Emperor was worth a little heartache. Besides, it would destroy her to lose her John. She was from enduring nomadic stock, and mothers had sent their children (admittedly not under two years old) off to tend the herds for centuries. A nomadic woman could expect to. "Sure, Honey. Grandpa Mercer had been a Deputy U.S. Marshall all of his adult life until he retired and started managing his ranch in Oklahoma full-time," answered Tylea proudly. "In fact, he was a fourth-generation Deputy U.S. Marshall. His great-grandfather had been the first Marshall in the family after the war." The war? The Civil War? Then, was he a slave before that?" asked Brooke, really curious and intrigued by Tylea's story now."Honey, it really should be more correctly called the War. More

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