Chapter 9
“I’m not taking orders from that whelp.” Sid saddled his horse as he watched Wade and that half-wild woman snoop around his ranch.
“The kid wasn’t supposed to ever come back.” Paddy mounted as he whined. “He was long gone before we came here to work. His pa never spoke of the boy except to say he was dead to him.”
Sid had only heard bits and pieces of the disappointment Mort’s son had been.
A lazy coward and a drunk. The only real detail he’d heard was that the falling out between Mort and Wade was final.
“I was told the boy disgraced his pa until Mort disowned him. Mort sure enough announced that loud and clear.”
“And here he is back.” Paddy rode alongside Sid.
Sid was tempted to knock the man out of his saddle just to relieve his temper, but it would draw attention, and the four of them—Sid, Boog, Harv, and Paddy—had been careful not to appear too friendly. “And giving orders as though it was his place.”
It churned Sid’s stomach to think he might lose the ranch if the youngster inherited it. “A kid could die as easy as an old man. And the blond wildflower has to die, too, though it’s a shame because she’s a pretty thing.”
Paddy gave Sid a hungry look. “I’ll take care of her, pard. I’m already watching for my chance.”
“It’s gotta look like an accident.”
Paddy shook his head. “No, it don’t. If she disappears, everyone’ll just think she went back to the wild, took up with the Flatheads again. I’m tempted to keep her alive a while, have some fun with her.”
Getting rid of one little woman wouldn’t be much trouble. Sid wasn’t going to wrangle over how Paddy handled it. “Harv can’t be seen out now. It’s possible both Wade and the woman would recognize him.”
“We can take him into Divide and leave him with the doctor. He probably oughta have his cuts seen to, anyway.”
“But the doc might talk. We’ve got the story about running into rustlers, but I’d as soon not answer any questions from the sheriff.”
“Wade is walking the yard as though he owns the place. He won’t stay out of the bunkhouse if he don’t wanna.”
“Yep, we’d better get Harv to town.” Sid didn’t like it a bit.
What had Wade been getting at when he’d asked Sid if they’d met?
Sid had only been visible over that rise for a couple of seconds…
and masked. But had Wade noticed the missing fingers?
It wasn’t possible the kid could identify him, but a cold chill ran up Sid’s spine at the thought of having all those murders connected to him.
They were only Indians, but Montana was haggling right now over tribal lands and forming a state.
They didn’t want to be seen as a lawless place.
Not even outside the towns. Someone could get it in his head that even an Indian deserved justice.
What was the world coming to? “Better quit talkin’ now, Paddy. Put some space between us.”
With a swift jerk of the reins, Paddy dropped back as they rode out to start moving the herd.
It was backbreaking work. Work Sid wouldn’t do once this was his place. He’d rule his kingdom from a nice office in that big old house. But first, he now had three people to get rid of. The old man was a tough one. He was taking a long time to die.
It was past time they quit leaving it to God and took over shoving Mort into the afterlife.
Wade spent an hour rearranging the furniture in his father’s study. Ready at last, he carried the odd-looking conveyance Gertie had ordered from back East up to Pa’s room. Wade hated the cruel anger his pa was so famous for. But Wade’s days of cowering were over.
Whom shall I fear?
Praying for the day he wouldn’t have to repeat that prayer constantly, Wade rolled the chair down the thickly carpeted hall, then peeked in the slightly opened door, bracing himself for the coming war of words. There would be a war, and Wade would win it.
Pa lay on his back staring out the window.
The bleak expression on his face took Wade aback.
He loved his father enough to have prayed steadily for the bitter man to find peace with the Lord, but he held out little hope for change.
This aching sadness, however, showed a vulnerability Wade had never before seen.
God was answering Wade’s prayer—just not in the way he’d expected.
He wasn’t giving Wade endless courage, but He might be weakening Pa’s cast-iron will.
Wade swung the door and went in. His father turned. His jaw set as his eyes flickered between the chair and his son. Wade couldn’t be sure which Pa hated more.
“What is that thing?”
“Gertie ordered it for you. It’s a wheelchair. She said she’s tried to get you to come downstairs and have a look at it.”
“In case you’re too stupid or blind to notice, my legs don’t work. And I’ll die before I let someone carry me down like a baby. It’s bad enough someone had to carry me up.”
“I’ve set up a bed for you downstairs. You’re moving there.
For now, I get you up and into the chair every morning.
But Gertie said there are ways you can learn to swing yourself into it without help.
With this thing, you can sit up, move around the main floor of the house, read, and pass the time in less miserable activities than staring out at a ranch you can no longer run. ”
“Get out of here.”
Wade had the urge to laugh. Since it made no sense and he’d been praying for a way to deal with his father, he trusted God and laughed in his father’s face.
“You can’t stop me. You’ve been wasting away up here.
I’m stronger than you and more determined than you.
I’ll help you into the chair, roll you down the hall, then carry you downstairs, or I can just throw you over my shoulder right now. You decide.”
Pa started shouting, as Wade had expected. “I can still tear you apart with my bare hands, you young pup. I’m not going to be carted around like a piece of garbage you’re looking to throw in the trash.”
Wade sighed. It was a long hallway. Pa riding to the top of the steps would have been easier. “I knew you wouldn’t cooperate, but I could hope.”
“I’ll thrash you if you get near me with that thing!” Pa struggled until he sat up. “Get out! Gertie, get up here!”
“Calling on a woman for help? Never thought I’d see the day.” Wade rolled the chair aside. “Gertie is out planting a spring garden. She can’t even hear your caterwauling.”
Coming toward the bed, Wade dodged his father’s fist. The intended blow almost upended Pa.
Wade grabbed him before he fell out of bed.
Wade hitched his arms around the invalid, now sprawled on his stomach, and gently hoisted his pa into his arms. The fact that the man had wasted away to nearly nothing made grief twist in Wade’s chest.
Dragging Pa’s feet, Wade backed toward the door. The shouting hurt his ears but nothing else, so it was easier than Wade had feared. He ignored the roaring and dodged the fists flying backward impotently and soon had Pa in the study, settled in bed.
“I’ll crawl back up those steps the second you’re gone!”
“Why, Pa? Does it make you feel better to make Gertie’s job harder, running food up and down the steps?
In here, you’ve got a library. You could even get back to work, keeping the books for the ranch.
Gertie’s been doing it, and I’m surprised you trust her.
With a little practice, you could get in and out of your wheelchair, come to the dining room for supper, and even go outside once I build a ramp out the back door.
The ground is smooth enough, I could push you to the barn and you could check the spring foals.
” Wade crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder on the doorframe, staring at his father’s face, red with rage.
The old man’s chest was heaving, his hands fisted.
“You can’t walk, Pa.”
“I know that!”
“But you don’t have to curl up and die.”
“What good is life if you don’t have legs?”
“You can run this ranch again, live again. Your life isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is. I’m worse than dead.”
Wade straightened. “Considering you’ve never spent one second of your life contemplating God, I’m thinking you’ll be a lot worse off dead, because nothing you’ve done in this life will ever get you into heaven.”
Pa responded with the kind of vile language that only proved Wade right about the state of his father’s soul.
“I’m going to get your chair down here, and you can practice climbing into it. Or you can just lie there as though you’re dead while you’re still alive.” Wade stalked out of the room.
“You get back here, you little…” Pa continued his tirade.
Wade turned his mind from the sound of his father’s hate.
He prayed all the way up and down the stairs, balancing the heavy wheelchair.
Why did he want his father to have easier access to the ranch?
Between his rage and filthy language—which was now easier to hear—and the shady things going on, Pa might have been better off staying secluded.
Wade’s chin came up. Would Pa want to fight for this ranch?
Of course! And if Wade could turn his father’s anger to something that should’ve made him mad for good reason, maybe he’d let Wade be a part of fixing this place.
And maybe turning the ranch around would at least give Pa something to live for.