Chapter 6 #2
The rage boiled in Wade’s stomach, a killing fury stirred in him, and he rolled back over, picked up his rifle, and took a bead on Dawson’s door. If Dawson stepped outside at that instant, he’d die.
Wade was ready. He was finally ready. He was finally man enough to kill.
He waited and watched and wanted and hated.
Cassie had been rehearsing what she’d say when Red returned.
She was determined to talk at least a little, since she’d been mostly mute the whole time they’d been together.
Griff had wanted an intelligent conversation with dinner.
He’d always said she couldn’t hold up her end because she was so uneducated.
Which was true. She’d quit school at fifteen when she got married.
And he’d pointed out that her mind was naturally childlike, as was the case with most women.
She thought that was true, too, because inside her head, she spent a lot of time screaming and complaining and making sharp, crude remarks—very childish.
But Griff needed to be allowed to discuss his day. He said a man couldn’t relax properly without that. She had learned to smile politely and nod and make encouraging comments to keep him talking. She would try to talk enough to let Red tell her about his day but not so much as to annoy him.
“Everything’s ready. If you want to wash up, we can eat right now.” Hopefully, she wasn’t being bossy.
Red smiled wide. “It smells great. To walk in and have a meal set down in front of you is a real nice thing, Cassie. It makes me feel like a king. Thank you very much for this.”
Cassie was dishing the ham onto Red’s plate and came close to dropping it.
Making dinner was her duty. The notion that Red would thank her for that nearly knocked her over.
She nodded and almost smiled, but she controlled the silly impulse.
“There’s water warming in the fireplace.
I could ladle it for you.” She set the ham down and moved toward the hearth where she’d settled a pot of water to warm.
“No, I’ll get it. You’ve done enough.” Red waved her away and hurried to scoop water into a basin.
He set the basin in the sink, rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands all the way to his elbows.
Then he washed his face and ran his hands into his hair, finger-combing it.
He took the bowl outside and tossed the water and came to the table.
While he washed, Cassie spooned a plateful of potatoes, gravy, ham, and biscuit for each of them and hung a coffeepot over the flames to be ready when dinner was done.
As Red pulled out his chair, Cassie sat quietly, ready to memorize any critical word he said about the potatoes she’d whipped so smooth or the gravy she’d fussed over to rid it of the tiniest lumps.
She needed to confess her use of yeast on the biscuits because he would no doubt disapprove of extravagance.
And she was afraid she’d made too much of everything and it would go to waste.
Or too little of everything and Red would go hungry.
She took small servings herself, even though the wonderful smell of ham had been torturing her for an hour.
She would take more later if there was any left.
She’d picked up her fork and lifted the first bite of the luscious meat to her lips, when Red said, “We say the blessing first, Cass.”
She almost dropped her fork. Those were words her mother had always said to her as a child. “Before we eat, we ask God to bless the food, Cassandra.”
Griff said it was a meaningless ritual.
Cassie laid down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. She nodded at Red, then bowed her head.
There was a long silence, and it took all of Cassie’s willpower not to peek at Red and see if he’d prayed silently and was now eating without her while she sat, eyes closed, waiting.
When Red finally spoke, it wasn’t like the sweet, memorized prayer her mother had always said. Red just talked to God.
“Father, Cass and I got married today. You were there, Lord, I felt You there. Bless this marriage we began today, and bless the soul of Lester Griffin. And take care of the babe, Lord. It’s a big responsibility.
I need You to give Cass and me the wisdom to be good parents.
Thank You for this wonderful meal Cassie made.
Let us use the strength we get from this good food to do Your work on this earth. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Cassie lifted her head. “That was a nice prayer, R—uh…uh…” She pressed her fingers over her lips. She didn’t know her husband’s name and couldn’t bring herself to call him “Red.”
“What, Cass? Is something wrong?” A frown flitted over Red’s forehead as he snuck a quick glance at her stomach.
Cassie dropped her gaze to her lap and whispered, “I…Red isn’t…” She glanced up at him, afraid he’d be angry at her stupid question, but she had to ask. She whispered, “Should I know your real name?”
He looked dumbfounded for about two seconds, then he grinned so widely that she lifted her fingers away from her lips and smiled back.
“I reckon a wife oughta know her husband’s name,” Red announced and started laughing.
The laughter coming from her own lips amazed her. It was a sound she hadn’t heard for three years. She slipped her fingers back over her mouth to stop herself.
She remembered the moment, the circumstances of the last time she’d laughed.
Griff had asked her to marry him, and she’d yelled, “Yes!” and laughed and flung her arms around his neck.
He’d pulled her arms away from him roughly and shook her so hard, her head had snapped back and forth and tears had come to her eyes.
He’d told her she was making a fool of herself and to please try and moderate her voice and not flaunt herself.