Ace's Wild (11 page)

Hester looked to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get to work.”

“The children can stay here tonight if you’d like.”

“You got room?”

“I’ve got room. No real beds yet, but room I have.”

Hester nodded. “They can make do on pallets. They’re better off here than over there.”

Petunia couldn’t argue with that. “Have they eaten supper?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Is there anything in particular they like?”

“They’ll eat whatever’s put in front of them. They’re not picky. They’re good children.”

With Hester as a mother, Petunia just bet they were. Maybe a bit resentful, maybe a little wild, maybe a little angry because of their father, but they were obedient, and she didn’t think they went against Hester often.

“I’ll be back when my shift is over.”

“And what time is that?”

“About two.”

“You sure you don’t want me to keep them until morning?”

Hester shook her head. “Phillip will fret if he doesn’t see me at two.” With a resigned shrug that said more than words, she explained, “He’s protective of me since his dad left.”

Petunia just bet. “He sounds like a good boy.”

“He is, just growing up too fast.”

Walking over to a small dish by the front door, Petunia grabbed the spare key. Turning, she held it out.

“I’ll see you at two, then.”

“I’ve got the job?”

Petunia nodded. It was probably the best and worst decision she’d ever made, but this seemed the week for such things.

Hester smiled so big, her makeup cracked. “You won’t regret it.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

* * *

I
T
WASN
’
T
A
key in the lock that woke Petunia. It was the raspy squeal of the downstairs kitchen window being opened. Petunia froze beneath the blankets, her breath caught in her lungs. Someone was breaking into the house. Sliding out of bed, she reached for the shotgun. It wasn’t by the bed. With all the chaos of the extra children in the house and refereeing the inevitable disagreements, she’d forgotten it in the kitchen. Darn it.

There was nothing to do but go downstairs. Thank goodness her door was at the top of the stairs, well between the children and any threat. Opening her door slowly, very slowly so as not to have it squeak a warning to whomever was coming inside, she tiptoed into the hall. At the top of the stairs, she felt eyes upon her. Her heart leaped into her throat, but it was Phillip and Terrance at the door to their room. She put her finger to her lips and waved them back inside. They moved as one, exactly a half inch toward the inside of the door. She pointed again and then made a motion like closing the door.

She didn’t know who was breaking in; hopefully, it was just a cowboy looking for some food. But if it was anything more serious, she wanted as many locked doors as possible between the threat and the children. They reluctantly obeyed.

At the top of the stairs was a small cast-iron lamp. She picked it up. As weapons went it wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. And the heft gave her a bit of confidence. She looked back. The doors were closed. No more excuses.

Her breath sounded harsh to her ears as she eased her way down the stairs, treading carefully, trying to remember which stair it was that had the creak. Fourth from the bottom, she finally remembered, which wasn’t much help because she was so panicked she couldn’t remember where she was on the stairs. She didn’t even know what time it was. All she knew was it was dark and from the heaviness of the air against her skin, it felt like morning.

Thoughts raced through her mind. Would Hester climb through the window if she lost her key? She didn’t think so, but what did she know of Hester? She knew nothing about the woman except that she was bold as brass. Maybe she would climb through the window. Maybe it was just Hester. Maybe her heart was thundering in her chest for nothing, and maybe two minutes from now she’d be at the stove boiling water, getting ready to share a cup of tea with the woman.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Tingles spread across her skin. Somehow, she didn’t think it was Hester.

“All right, Lord,” she half prayed, half said under her breath, “it’s just you and me on this one.”

It was her habit to talk to God when she was in these situations. She liked to believe that He backed her in all her endeavors. She was on the side of good, but there was always a chance on any given day that God was preoccupied elsewhere. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be that day. She had three little responsibilities upstairs. It was her job to keep them safe.

She debated screaming but the house was on the edge of the town. No one would hear and again, whoever was in the house, because he had to be in the house by now, might assume she didn’t know he was there. A scream would take away her only advantage.

She felt the slightest of gives on the next stair. The squeaky stair. She quickly pulled her foot back, but not fast enough. It made a slight soft little groan, so soft a sound she wasn’t sure it even carried past her. Gripping the railing with a shaking hand, she tried to steady her breath. That was close, too close.

“Terrance,” a man’s voice called, the words slurring together. “Where are you, boy? I’ve come to get you.”

Brian. Brian Winter was in her house, and from the sound of things, he’d been drinking. It was too easy to recall the size of the man. The weight of the lamp in her hand that had been so soothing just minutes before became pathetically inadequate. She tightened her grip on it nevertheless. There was no chance Brian would leave without his son. There was nothing to do but to confront him, but she wasn’t going to do it on the stairs. She didn’t want him anywhere near the children.

From the noise, he was near the kitchen. Petunia forced her feet to the bottom of the stairs. A crash from the hall, probably the little key table, alerted her Brian was close. Too close.

Her first thought was that if he passed by her, she could slip behind him into the parlor and then get to the kitchen to the gun. She knew where it was. Right there beside the back door leaning against the wall. Why tonight of all nights had she forgotten the gun?

He was almost to the door. She could hear him. Smell him.

Please, Lord.

Holding her breath, she inched a little farther into the shadows. Too far. Her hip bumped the table on the landing, and the glass hurricane lamp on top of it teetered. She grabbed for it, only to send it sailing. The crash echoed through the house.

Shadows shifted as Brian whirled around. “Who’s there?”

There was no choice. She was going to have to confront him. Petunia took another breath, trying to make her voice as calm as possible.

“I believe that should be my question.”

Hopefully, he was too drunk to hear the quiver of fear laced through every word.

There was a snort that could have been disgust or victory.

“That you, teacher?”

“Who else would you expect to be greeting you at this hour of the night in my home?”

“I might be expecting my goddamn kid.” Another shift in the shadows. He was coming toward her. “The one you took away.”

“I didn’t take anybody away.” She inched along the wall toward the kitchen. “Mr. Parker brought Terrance to my care.”

She didn’t feel a bit guilty throwing Ace out there. That was one man that could take care of himself.

“Bullshit. He wouldn’t have done anything, if you hadn’t pushed the issue.”

For a drunk, he was amazingly logical. Damn it.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it, who brought him to me?” She stubbed her finger against the molding of the parlor arch. “The fact is he needed bringing.”

“The hell he did. He’s my kid, and you have no goddamn right to take him.”

As far as she could tell, he wasn’t moving. “The right of it isn’t in dispute.”

She didn’t know what good stalling would do, but until a better idea came along, she was going with it.

“I’ve been talking with a lawyer over there in the saloon, and he says you can’t take my kid.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She was close. So close. “Are you sure he was an attorney?”

“He knows more than you do.”

She didn’t want to argue with him. She backed into the room. He didn’t follow.

“I’m going to get my kid now.”

The heck he was. “No, Mr. Winter, you’re not.”

He was following now. His silhouette filled the doorway, pushing out the light. His hands were balled into fists. For a horrifying moment she had the cowardly thought that if she just let him have Terrance, he’d go.

He snarled, “Fucking bitch.”

She hefted the lamp and pulled herself up straight. If he persisted in trying to take his anger out on Terrance, he was going to find out just how much of a bitch she could be.

“You need to go. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere without my son.”

She made a last ditch grasp at reason. “Your son is sleeping, unless your boorish behavior woke him up. You can come by in the morning, and we’ll discuss this.”

“There is no discussion to be had.” He surged into the room. “I’m taking my kid.”

The force of his anger drove her back like a blow. The folds of her sleeping gown wrapped around her legs. The sofa hit the backs of her legs. She was trapped, and he kept on coming. Dear God, where was the gun?

“I’ve got a gun,” she bluffed.

“No, you don’t.”

Was she that bad a liar? “Do you want to take another step and find out?”

He took another step. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

She could feel sweat breaking out on her back, taste the fear in her mouth. If she had the gun right now she’d be pulling the trigger if only because she was shaking so badly. The only other time she’d ever had to confront a man, there had been others around. But this, this was different. There was just her and him and three vulnerable children trapped in the sinister cloak of darkness.

He lunged. She ducked to the side. His hand caught her nightgown. There was a jerk at her shoulder and the fabric ripped. She stumbled but miraculously was free. She spun around, shadows spinning with her. Bracing her feet, she spotted the deeper black of his bulk coming at her. She threw the lamp and screamed. She heard a shout from upstairs.

“Stay back, children!” she yelled as Brian grabbed at her again.
Dear God, stay back.
She dived for the door. He caught her gown again, and she screamed again, pointless noise that somehow gave her strength. The material tore more. Two shadows shot past her.

“Pa, stop!”

Oh, God, that was Terrance. “Run, Terrance, run!”

He didn’t run. There was another shadow, more swearing from Brian, the sound of a fist connecting with flesh. A young voice swore in the most foul of language.

“Fucking bastard.”

Then the awful thud of something hitting the floor.

Another cry broke through the dark. Deeper and more guttural. It had to be from Brian. The boys were fighting him.

Springing to her feet, Petunia sprinted for the kitchen and the gun, tripping over the table and her torn gown. She needed to get the gun. It was their only hope. Grabbing it from beside the back door, she ran back, hearing the sounds of violence, willing herself faster, fearing for the kids, fearing for them all.

Suddenly, there was a crash. The front door slammed against the wall.

“You son of a bitch.” This time it was a woman’s voice.

Glass smashed and then an agonized howl.

“Touch my son, will you?” There was a soft hiss and then a burst of light. Another scream from Brian.

“Get used to it, you bastard. There’re going to be a lot of flames where you’re going.”

Petunia rushed back into the living room to see Brian jumping about, in horror, his arm on fire.

“Oh, my God!” Petunia grabbed for the throw on the settee.

“Let him burn,” Hester snarled.

Petunia glared at her, covering the flames creeping up Brian’s back. “He’ll take the whole damn house with him!”

Terrance already had the other blanket off the chair. Hester snatched it from him. Brian swung at her when she would have thrown it over his arm. “I’ll kill you.”

The stench of burned wool, hair and kerosene filled the room.

“Hold still, you ass.”

He didn’t hold still. Instead, he just kept screaming, “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you.”

Petunia threw her weight on him, smothering the last of the flames as she did. “Not today you won’t.”

Hester joined in. Brian collapsed to the floor. Terrance followed, crying, “Pa!”

Petunia couldn’t tell if it was fear or love in his voice.

Brian started to get to his feet. Hester kicked out, catching him in the chin. He dropped like a felled ox.

Dusting off her hands, Hester looked over at Petunia. “Just another reason you need me around here.”

Petunia leaned against the wall and pulled the remnants of her gown closed. Dear heavens, what a mess. “Why is that?”

“I know how to fight dirty.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “So I see.”

Brian still wasn’t moving. Terrance was sitting beside him stroking his hair, whispering things she couldn’t hear.

“What are we going to do with him?”

“Throw him out with the garbage.” Hester lit one of the few remaining lamps, and looked down at Brian before giving him a poke with her foot. “He’s a bit big for us to be tossing.” Turning, she called, “Phil!” Phillip looked up from where he sat. “Run over to the saloon and fetch Mr. Parker.”

Petunia groaned. Anyone but him. “Why do we need him?”

“Because he’ll know what to do.”

“Everyone knows what to do. Call the sheriff and be done with it.”

Hester shook her head, staring at the mess. “Ace’s not going to be pleased to see this.”

“I’m not too pleased myself.” If word got out, the scandal and speculation would shut her down.

“Ace will handle it.”

“Why would he even bother?”

Hester shot her a pitying look. “’Cause everyone knows, he’s got you marked as his. And no one messes with what belongs to that man.”