Mary Connealy (108 page)

The tight line of his jaw was so rigid Wade was afraid his pa’s teeth might crack. “I’ve always prided myself on being tough.”

“Pride’s a sin, in case you need a list.”

A humorless laugh escaped Pa’s throat. “I probably do need a list. I think I’ve done everything exactly backward in my life. And nothing more backward than the way I treated you.” Pa raised his eyes until they met Wade’s.

“I think this is the first time in my life you’ve ever looked at me without anger or contempt.” Wade shook his head, and it was only his faith in God that kept him in the room. He wanted to run outside and cry.

“I think those are words God would use to judge me at the Pearly Gates. An awful thing for a son to say such about his father, that he’d never known a moment of kindness. My duty to you is to protect and love you. I failed at the second, and at the first, well, you needed someone to protect you from me.”

“I agree…God would judge you harshly for that.” Wade wasn’t inclined to pretend a lie. He prayed silently for wisdom.

Give me the words to speak, Lord. Give me love in my heart that he beat out of me years ago.

His stomach twisted as he realized just how fully he hated his pa. Yes, an awful thing for a son to feel for a father. God would judge Wade for that.

They faced each other in silence.

“I’m not going to throw out a bunch of words now that I spent my life destroying. I’m not going to cheapen a father’s love by claiming it for you, because I don’t think I know what it means.”

Sick to his stomach that, even now, his father couldn’t say, “I love you,” Wade turned to leave. The room, the house, the ranch. Everything. He couldn’t stay.

“I will tell you this, boy.” Pa drew his attention and Wade watched the defiant old man square his shoulders. “You’re a better man than I am.”

Wade gasped. He couldn’t have been more shocked if his pa had slugged him in the stomach. In fact, that wouldn’t have been a shock at all. “You mean that?”

Pa nodded. “I’ve known it since before you left. Since you got ahold of your drinking and carousing and came back here to work. I could see then you’d finally grown up. And grown into something better than I could have ever created with my yelling and hitting. I was ashamed that Red Dawson had done something I could never do.”

“It wasn’t Red, Pa. It was God.”

Nodding silently, his father took a long time to respond. “I know that, too. But it’s easier to see what’s there in front of my eyes and not try to figure out some distant God that I’ve never seen the need for.”

“Everyone needs God.”

“Not me. I never did.”

“You needed Him more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“How can you say that?” Pa shifted in his chair, his eyes furtive, not meeting Wade’s now.

“Because you’re so strong.”

Pa jerked his chin up. “In the kitchen you called me a coward. That’s a weakling. And you were right. Only a coward hits someone littler. A child.” Pa rubbed his face as if he wanted to scrub away twenty years of bad memories. Or maybe, if Grandpa Sawyer was as mean as Pa, the bad memories went back much further.

No way Wade could think to deny that. “A strong man—measured by Western standards—can carve a good life out of a hard land, and you’ve done that. No one on earth would call you anything but strong.” Struggling for the right words, Wade continued. “But that kind of strength needs to be tempered. A man that strong needs to—to put limits on himself. Or accept the limits God puts on a man.”

“Like the Ten Commandments.”

“Except Jesus gave us new commandments, did you know that?”

His brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard they threw out the ten.”

“Jesus gave us two. Love God; love your neighbor. That’s it. He said that if you followed those two, you’d be keeping all the rest.”

“Instead I’ve broken them and all the rest.”

“You’ve as good as stolen land from Tom Linscott. I told him we wouldn’t run cattle on his spring anymore.”

“You what?” Pa’s eyes flashed, and he lurched forward. Then he caught himself. “Yes, of course we can’t do that. I always knew where my land borders were. But I’d used those springs before Linscott came in and bought them.”

“And you’ve coveted those springs, and the Griffins’ water, and—”

Waving one massive hand, Pa cut in. “I’ve coveted everything.

Things I didn’t know I wanted until someone else had them. My neighbor’s land and water and wife.”

That one almost flashed Wade’s temper back to life as he remembered the things his pa had said about Cassie. The way Pa had tried to force a marriage against Cassie’s will.

“And none of it had a thing to do with loving God or your neighbor,” Wade snapped. “You didn’t accept that there was any limit on right and wrong. And there was no one around strong enough to back you down. So you became a tyrant.”

“Red Dawson backed me down, didn’t he?” Pa looked up sheepishly, as if he was ashamed of that fact.

“Good thing he did, Pa. Good thing Tom Linscott came in and stood up for himself. You were beyond the laws of God and man before those two stepped in. I hate to think what would have happened if you’d have gotten your way and brought Cassie here. It makes me sick to think of it. That’s why a strong man needs some power over him—God—or terrible things happen.”

Pa looked reduced by more than the wheelchair and his weight loss. His spirit looked crushed. “Things are going to change, son.”

“Like I said earlier, I’ll decide if I stay or go. No assurances from you will make a bit of difference if you start in on me or Abby again.”

“That’s as it should be. You
are
a better man than me.” Pa reached for his wheelchair and rolled it a bit, back and forth, staring at it as if there were answers in those moving wheels.

Maybe they were the answer. “Maybe God struck you down to get your attention.”

“I don’t think much less would have worked.” Pa looked up from his chair, and Wade saw longing in his father’s eyes. Longing for something better between the two of them.

“How about this, Pa? How about I fetch my Bible in here for you? For the first time in your life, you’ve got time stretching out empty in front of you. Days and days of idleness. Spend them reading the Bible. Hunt for the Ten Commandments and the two.

See if you can find Someone stronger than yourself. Someone you can respect enough to give Him charge of your life. You’ll be a better man for it.”

Pa nodded. “I want you to stay, son. I want to try and fix things between us. I promise you I’m going to try.”

“It’s more than I ever expected to hear from you.” Yet it wasn’t enough. Even though it seemed hopeless, he wished Pa could find a way to love him. “I’ll be right back.”

Wade ran upstairs and was back in Pa’s bedroom in minutes. He handed over the heavy book. Wade had bought it new from Bates’s General Store in Divide. Muriel had helped him pick it out. He’d nearly worn it out in the last couple of years.

Pa accepted the book, and then an almost-smile quirked his lips. “So you really gonna try and get that little wild woman to marry you?”

Wade did smile. He couldn’t stop himself. “Oh yes.”

“So have you asked her yet?” His pa caressed the Bible while he spoke in a friendly way to Wade.

It was already more of a miracle than Wade had ever dreamed of. He should have started yelling at his father years ago. “I mention something along those lines just about every day.”

“And what does she say?” Pa ran his hand over the leather.

“As a matter of fact, she usually pulls her knife on me. She’s done it so often I’ve kinda quit keeping track.”

Pa chuckled. Then that wasn’t enough and he laughed out loud. “I liked that girl from the moment she walked in this house and started threatening me.”

“We’re going to hit the place next Sunday,” Sid whispered to Paddy. “We’ll let Wade and the girl, plus all the hands, ride off to church. Then we’ll just go in the house and finish Mort.”

Paddy snickered as he nodded. “Then waylay the rest of ’em on the trail home.”

Nodding, Sid stared at Wade, riding the herd, cutting out the older steers to drive to market.

“We’ll be pushing cattle to Helena after next Sunday, so if we don’t get it done, we’ll have to make that long drive.”

Paddy narrowed his eyes. “If you’re taking over the ranch, you’ll need to make the drive anyway, boss.”

“No, I won’t. I’ll order the hands to go. I’ll stay here and they can bring me the money.”

“You’ll trust this crowd to bring the money home?” Paddy stared at the half-trained cowhands Sid had so carefully hired for their incompetence and lackadaisical attitudes, so when the moment came for him to seize the ranch, he wouldn’t have much resistance.

Sid snarled. He didn’t, now that Paddy mentioned it, but it burned to have Paddy point out something so obvious. “Okay, then I’ll go along.”

“Better to let Wade take the drive. The girl will be left home with Mort. Maybe we go on the drive, finish Wade off on the way home. Lots of places for accidents to happen on a cattle drive. Leave Boog and Harv to handle Mort and the girl.”

Sid rode his horse, pushing a docile, fat-bellied bunch of longhorns along toward new pasture, and considered the plan. No plan was perfect; some risk was involved in all of them. But dry-gulching Wade on the trail was no sure thing. There wasn’t a good spot to shoot from cover. And walking straight into the house to murder Mort was as cold-blooded as Sid had ever been. They’d have to kill Gertie, too, because she’d be a witness, and it bothered Sid to kill the old woman. Her cookies reminded him of his ma’s cooking. It made him sick to think of someone killing his ma just because she was standing beside a man who needed killing.

Maybe the drive was best, leaving the women and cripple to Boog and Harv. “We’ll wait.” Sid looked around to make sure no one had ridden up on his flank. “Unless I find a likely chance. We don’t have to kill ’em all at once, you know. We could space it out.

But I want this done. We’ve been too careful. It’s time now to act.”

“It’s past time.” Paddy had to wipe his chin.

Sid could see he was so hungry to hurt someone he was drooling. Just the kind of man Sid needed at his side.

A
bby tied the apron on around her clothes. It was a good idea to wear it. How many times had she gotten her soft leather dress stained while she worked over a cooking pot? It was a fact, though, that gingham made her skin itch. She missed her doeskin, the easy movement, the split skirt that made riding so easy. Foolish whites and their fussy dresses.

Even so, she was beginning to adjust to the ways of the white man. With disgust, Abby realized she was getting soft. Remembering Wade’s confident announcement that he was going to marry her, she’d gone to ridiculous lengths to avoid being alone with him all week. She needed to figure out what was the matter with her that she could hate his kind and his skin color and his ways…but still like the man.

Wade wasn’t like the rest of the whites. Abby knew that clearly enough. She forgave herself for her fascination because of that. She might have even considered marrying him if they could get away from the ranch and live somewhere in the mountains, away from her Indian family and his white world. He was an especially kind man—look at the way he grinned when she threatened him with her knife. Although, truth be told, she was almost certain she could never really stab him.

When had she become such a weakling?

“Time to punch down the rising of bread, Abby. Do you want to do it and shape the loaves?” Gertie smiled, and Abby felt another pang of guilt. She’d come to care about this elderly woman, too. When they worked on the house or the meals or the garden, Abby felt almost like a daughter being taught by her mother. It helped shake loose memories of her own white family, and with the memories came love. Yes, she’d loved her family. They were good people, and they’d tried to take care of her until the sickness had made that impossible. Not all whites were evil. She knew that.

The smell of the yeast and flour made her mouth water. Another thing Abby had begun to like—the easy food. Yes, there was hard work to making a meal, but the choices were plentiful and the garden was yielding a rich bounty of vegetables. The beef supply never ended, and there were chickens and eggs, ham and bacon, milk and coffee laced with thick cream. And sweets. Gertie was a hand with the sweets.

Punching the soft, puffed-up mound of dough with more force than necessary, Abby admitted the disgusting, unthinkable truth. She was starting to like this place.

Mort rolled himself into the kitchen, and Abby almost cheered up. Finally someone she really couldn’t stand.

Mort was trying, Abby could see that. But he was failing—a lot. More this week than last. The man had a short temper, and he liked things done his way and right now.

So far, Abby had followed Gertie’s example and kept the hard words Mort said to them from Wade, not wanting to cause the final break between Wade and his pa. Especially since Mort
was
trying. He only yelled his orders part of the time these days.

“Get me a cup of coffee and some of those gingersnaps, Gertie.” Mort wheeled around the table to his place at the head.