It's a peaceful little town. Pretty. Abundant. No one here expects trouble, and that’s gotta be what makes it so perfect, just his kind of happy ending.

So here and there: He carries off a lamb. Splits a buxom young lover from her beau. Lifts handsome, steaming pies from windowsill. Tells elaborate stories of the world beyond, and maybe some of them are even true. Who cares? Story's a story. No point in looking close.

There's never a noose of it. The town constable is a fat man on slow legs, and Lazar a beloved local rascal. There's always one of those. So he's not worried when he sidles up to the ranch, a bouquet of pilfered flowers in hand; Orlov's often gone, takes long rides on his beautiful horses.

And his wife –