Noah Kane grew up a little outside Faircross, on a farm that was not exactly poor, but never secure either. They had land. They did not have certainty. His father, Martin Kane, was one of those men who spoke more with his back than with his mouth. He worked the land the way other men perform penance, stubbornly, bent forward, as if by digging deep enough he might find under the soil a justice the world above had no intention of giving him.