Chapter 7
Once, when he was a young teenager, Wade and a couple of cowhands he rode with surprised some rustlers using a running iron on a calf. Wade’s horse had been shot out from under him in the chaos. He’d used that dead horse as a shield from flying bullets.
Now he was the horse. Or at least he felt like the poor beast must have as he led the way up to his father’s room with Gertie and Abby hiding behind him. Pa’s shouting got louder, maybe because they were closer, but perhaps the rage was building too.
Abby straggled behind. Wade already knew she wasn’t one to hide. But Gertie very definitely had Wade smack in front of her.
The coward.
Wade reached for the doorknob.
“You get up here!” The door seemed to shake under the impact of his pa’s anger. “Gertie! Gertie, you’re fired. You worthless…”
As the tirade grew more hateful, Wade looked behind him at Gertie’s wide eyes. “You get fired often?” He whispered, as though if Pa didn’t hear his voice, he still had a choice of running.
The threats and insults continued.
“About six times a day,” Gertie whispered back. “Until he needs something. Then he starts in shouting for me to fetch for him.”
Mort let loose a stream of language that made Wade want to cover Gertie’s and Abby’s ears. His own too. But he was short on hands. Wade shook his head in disgust.
“This is how a man speaks to his woman?” Abby wore a contemptuous expression. “This is what passes for strength in a white man’s world?” She didn’t whisper. And his father quit hollering.
“I’m not his woman,” Gertie said. Was that a pained expression in her eyes?
Had she nurtured dreams, ever, that Pa would marry her?
He should have. Gertie had cared for Pa, his child, and his home faithfully for over a decade.
But Wade had never seen so much as a breath of romance pass between the two.
Sucking in a deep breath, Wade twisted the knob and swung the door open. His father sat up in bed. Their eyes met.
Silence.
Wade stepped in, braced for the insults and threats. He might as well start first. Chances were, once Pa got wound up, he wouldn’t hear anything Wade said. “I heard you sent for me, Pa. Well, I’m here. Here to help if you’ll have me, with your care or your ranch, wherever you need me.”
Wade hadn’t meant to say that. In fact, until Gertie’s pleading at the front door, Wade had fully intended to come, listen to whatever spiteful things his pa had to say, and leave. Most likely, he’d be ordered to go. But Gertie had asked, and the sight of his pa in that bed was shocking.
Pa’s strength of will was still there, but he no longer had a body to back up his threats.
He’d lost weight. His shoulders were narrowed, his chest caved in.
Jowls hung from his cheeks. His legs lay as slender as twigs under the single coverlet.
Pa was nearly six-and-a-half feet tall, but his prone position stole even that commanding height from him.
“Wade?”
Bracing himself for the explosion, Wade advanced into the room. Whom shall I fear? Whom shall I fear?
Wade knew exactly whom he did fear as he watched his father’s expression go from surprise to anger. He shouldn’t have—not according to the Bible—but he feared his own earthly father, God forgive him.
“Decided to come home, huh, like a whipped pup?” Pa’s fists clenched as if he were dreaming about throwing punches.
Doing his best not to flinch, as he would have in the past, Wade prayed silently for the courage he’d gained from knowing a better, kinder Father.
God in heaven was on his side. He turned, as always, to Psalm 27.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
An almost supernatural calm eased into Wade’s muscles and bones.
“I came home because there is a God-given commandment to honor you, Pa. I am here out of obedience to God. Now, do you want to spend the first moments we’ve seen each other since you threatened me on the trail last fall telling me what a disappointment I am?
Or, since I’m your only living family, should we try and talk to each other? ”
Pa’s fists opened and closed. His jaw clenched as if he was physically trying to hold back the rain of words. It might be the first time he had ever exerted an ounce of control over his temper, and, even doubting it would last, Wade was encouraged.
“I cut you out of my will.” The words were harsh, but Pa didn’t shout. “If you’re here to watch me die, then take over my ranch, you’re wasting my time.”
“Good. I’m glad you did.” Wade crossed his arms to cover up the deep pain in his belly.
Not because he’d been disinherited but because he had a father who would do such a thing.
“Keep it that way. Then you’ll know I’m here to help, not for the money.
That’s settled. Now, do you want to tell me what you need done around the ranch? ”
“You don’t know how to run a ranch. A ranch takes strength and guts. You’ve got neither.”
“If you’re happy with your foreman, I’ll just help care for you. Give Gertie a break. I also brought someone home to help. She’s?—”
“You’d stay to the house like a woman?” Pa roared.
The clenched jaw hadn’t held.
“You’re the one who sent for me, remember? You just said you don’t want me working the ranch.”
“I didn’t say that. I said you don’t know how. I said you don’t have any guts. And you just took it like a weakling.”
“Being cruel to your son isn’t a sign of strength, Pa.
It’s a sign of weakness, to my way of thinking.
Being kind to an old tyrant who doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t want it, and doesn’t thank you for it—now, that takes strength.
” Wade’s temper was slipping. His pa had taught him that anger was strength, but God had taught him better.
Yes, Jesus got angry, but mostly, He stood in the face of powerful people and remained calm.
There was great strength in self-control.
Pa fell silent.
Wade waited.
Gertie began straightening the covers on the massive oak-framed bed.
Wade looked back at Abby. She stood by the door, studying Pa with narrow eyes.
Wade reached out his hand. “Come here. Meet my father.”
Abby snorted—not quietly either.
“Who’s she?”
Wade turned to see his father now watching Abby. “Her family is dead. She needed somewhere to go. I told her she could stay here, work with Gertie.”
“Now I’m running an orphanage?”
“No, you’re hurt. Caring for you is more than one person can do. Gertie, you can use some help around here, right?”
Gertie grunted as she tugged on a sheet.
“I’ve told you how things are going to the dogs around here, Mort.
I’ve got all I can do to carry food up and down these stairs.
I’m not getting my cleaning done in the rest of the house, and I can barely keep up with the laundry.
I haven’t planted a bit of the garden yet, and we’ll be pinched for food this winter if I don’t get something done.
Having help will keep the rest of the house from going to wrack and ruin. ”
She’d always had a way with Pa that Wade couldn’t understand.
She didn’t seem to mind his rages, his insults.
She’d just soldier on, do what was asked and then some.
How many times had she diverted Pa’s temper and given Wade a chance to scoot into some hiding place?
Then she’d come and find him and tell him to come on out.
It was safe. She’d come after Wade’s mother had died, and Gertie had been a mother to him in every way but blood.
Of course, many times, she hadn’t been able to divert Pa’s fury.
Then she’d come and find Wade and bandage his wounds.
“I’ll be dead by next winter, anyway.”
Abby made the rude noise again.
Pa turned his attention to her. “You got something to say, girl?”
“Wade told me you were a tyrant. I’m not afraid of a strong man. My father was strong. Wade was wrong. I come here and see a man whining.”
“Abby.” Wade stepped to her side.
She tilted her nose up at Pa. “I see self-pity and stupidity. Your son comes home with an offer to help, and you insult him. Your woman waits on you hand and foot, and you snap at her like a yellow dog.”
“She’s not my woman.”
Odd that Pa would think to object to that.
“I will stay here because Wade has asked me to, but I work for a fool and a weakling. Better I should tend a crying child than a man such as you.”
“A weakling!” Pa punched the bed.
Flinching from the raised voice, Wade stepped closer to Abby.
“Yes, a weakling. A man in my tribe once lost the use of his legs, and he dragged himself around the camp working, helping to skin deer, prepare the food. He knew it was better to work with the women than to not work at all. He refused to be lazy and worthless like you.”
Gertie gasped.
Wade braced himself.
Pa’s face turned a shade of purple Wade hadn’t ever seen on a human being before. “You get over here, you spiteful little shrew. I’ll show you worthless.” Pa sat forward as if he planned to throw himself at Abby.
She laughed. “Come and get me, old man.” She turned to Gertie. “Why is he in bed all day like an infant?”
Pa threw aside his blankets and used his arms to swing his legs around. They dropped, lifeless, bending at the knees. Before he fell out of bed, he stopped and looked at his legs.
Silence iced over the room.
Pa stared as he ran his hands up and down his withered legs.
Tension wrapped like fingers around Wade’s neck. He glanced at Abby, every inch Glowing Sun right now, her arms crossed, her eyes too wild and fierce for a lady. But so brave. And honest too. Wade’s spine strengthened as if he drew courage straight from her.
At last, Pa looked up, straight at Abby. “Get out of my room. Get out of my house.”
“A man’s house is only his if he can hold it. I have a job here, and I’ll keep it unless you actually throw me out. But I will gladly leave your presence.” Abby whirled and left the room.
Wade stared after her, then turned back to his father. “I hired her. She stays.” He marched out too.
When he’d prayed to God, “Whom shall I fear?” it never occurred to him that God might bring someone into his life who could give him lessons. Or who could be even more fearful than Pa.
“It’s that wild woman.” Paddy ran into the bunkhouse.
Sid looked up from the saddle he was mending. “What wild woman?” But he only knew of one wild woman.
“The one Harv tried to take. She’s dressed in gingham now, and her hair’s tied back neat, but it’s her. I just saw her go into the house with a man.”
“What man? The one who shot Boog?”
Boog had come riding into the ranch with them, not showing a single sign of weakness.
He’d made his excuses, then ridden out again, heading for a line shack to spell the men who kept watch over that far corner of the M Bar S.
In truth, he was going out there to heal.
But if that wild white-haired woman was here, she’d recognize Harv for sure.
Harv lay stretched out on his bunk. They’d made up an excuse about rustlers and Harv getting the worst in a knife fight. Everyone here at the M Bar S was too stupid to know the only rustlers around were Sid and his gang.
This woman could ruin everything. “We’ll lay low a while. Harv’s the only one they saw, and Boog with that gunshot might have given ’em a clue. But I can just walk right in that ranch house and give Mort the report as always. It’ll look wrong if I don’t.”
“But how long can Harv stay hidden?” Paddy glanced nervously at Harv.
Sid forced himself to think about the gold.
Harv was starting to be a burr under Sid’s saddle.
Only that treasure kept Harv alive. “I’ll have to tell Mort about the rustlers.
Then Harv’ll have an excuse to stay in the bunkhouse.
Maybe the woman and man are just passin’ through.
They’ll stay the night and move on. We’re not doing anything to tip our hand. ”
“And what if she doesn’t move on?” Paddy hissed. “You know she’s gotta die sometime. She can’t be around Divide, let alone the M Bar S.”
“Well, we know how to stage a fall off a horse, don’t we? When we did it before, no one suspected a thing, not even Mort.”
Paddy smiled. Then he giggled and plunked himself down on his cot.
“We do know sure enough. This time, I’ll come in after just to make sure she’s dead.
I shoulda never left Mort lying there alive.
I heard a wolf pack and figured he wouldn’t last the night.
I didn’t want anyone seeing a bullet hole in him. ”
“You’re the man we want to dry-gulch a woman, Paddy.” Sid didn’t even try to hide his contempt. Paddy had his uses. There was nothing too low for the man. Nothing too dirty. He enjoyed watching people die. He’d especially enjoy killing a woman. He’d done it before.
Paddy didn’t even react to words that would have made Boog draw his gun. Well, Paddy did react. He grinned and started humming an Irish jig.
Sid was tempted to draw his own gun.