Sarah stopped the buggy in front of the house and looked around at the farm. She’d always liked this place, so neat and clean. She stepped down, tethered the horse, and walked up to the front door where she knocked.
“Well, hello,” David said. He pushed the screen door open.
“Is your mother here?” Sarah noticed he stood a little unsteady on his feet.
“Who wanch ta know?” He blinked slowly.
“Is she here, David?” she repeated, curtly.
His eyes narrowed. “Always . . . sharp. Used ta gittin’ yer way.”
“You’re drunk,” she accused. “I’ll leave.”
David flushed, and more quickly than she would have thought possible, reached out and grabbed her arm.
“When I say ya can,” he muttered. Nearly yanking her off her feet, he pulled her into the house. “Bitch.”
Panic shocked Sarah like a gunshot. Her scalp tightened and her eyes widened. She felt her bladder about to release and turned her face away from him; not looking would make him go away.
“Always lookin’ but never givin’, huh, Sarah? All through school ya teased. Both Gus and me. And then scamprin’ off ta that shit Simon. Well, ya ain’t scamprin’ t’day.” He spun her around and wrapped both arms around her shoulders. Sarah kicked and screamed as he carried her across the parlor, through the kitchen, and into Ruth’s bedroom.
“No!” Sarah screamed. “David! No!”
She beat at the strong hands clasped across her chest, the pain in her crushed breasts making her light-headed. She bent forward and tried to bite his arm, helpless in his powerful grip. She screamed again, and he dumped her on the bed, her skirt and petticoats flying up. Frantically, she pushed her skirts down and saw his eyes go wide as he stared at her pants. She screamed again and tried to claw his eyes, but he threw her skirts over her hands.
David fought through the tangle of cotton and lace, found her face and clamped his hand over her mouth, finally stifling her strangled protests. She slapped and clawed at the fabric that covered her head, and confused her hands. He bore down harder on her mouth with one hand while the other reached toward her belly. His fingers found the top of her bloomers, and as he slipped one side over her hip, she suddenly went slack.
He uncovered her face and felt for her breath. Smiling, he used both hands to strip off her underclothes, then stood up, undid his belt, and ogled her bare skin. The scarlet teardrop on her hip drew his attention. Stooping over the still woman, he traced the edge of the birthmark with his work-hardened finger, the contrast of his hand’s coarse skin and her smooth bare hip, raw and vulgar. Chuckling, he fumbled with the bulky belt he wore under his shirt. The ties resisted him, but finally came loose and the money pouch thumped to the floor. Breathing heavily, he shrugged out of his suspenders and tore at the buttons on his pants.
Ruth and Ana had spent the afternoon as they frequently did, talking. The warm June day kept them on the back porch, out of the sun and with a view of the river bluffs.
“I’ll be happy when we finish that quilt,” Ana said. “I didn’t like the looks of that pattern when we first saw it. And now I know why. Sometimes I have to fight sleep when we’re working on it.”
“You think that’s monotonous, try tatting. One slip and you wind up tak—oh, dear!”
“What?” Ana said, startled.
Ruth, her hand over her mouth, had a guilty look on her face. “I was supposed to show Sarah a bit about tatting this afternoon. It completely slipped my mind. How embarrassing.”
“Oh, my.”
“I’ll just have to stop on my way home and apologize. I’d better do that right now.” She got up.
“You’re right. Maybe you can . . . no, it’s too late. She’ll understand. Probably spent a pretty dull afternoon though.”
The sisters walked around the house to Ruth’s buggy. Ana waved as her sister started the short trip to the Kingsleys’.
“She’s in her room,” Irene Kingsley said. “She came home rather upset. Said her horse nearly ran away with the shay. Scared the daylights out of her. She looked horrible. Poor thing. I haven’t bothered her for a couple of hours. I think I can go up and tell her you’re here.”
“Oh, no, Irene. Just tell her I’m terribly sorry I missed her. It completely slipped my mind. I’ll just go home, and we’ll arrange another time.”
Ruth got into her buggy and took the south road home, avoiding Main Street.
Next morning David sat nursing a wicked headache. He had not slept well and the cup of coffee he stared at looked foul. He put the cup down on the table. “I don’t want you to start,” he grumbled when he saw his mother looking at him.
“Mr. Jensen cannot work seven days a week,” Ruth said. “I told him he didn’t have to be here tonight or tomorrow morning for the cows. It’s up to you.” She stood by the stove, a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Well, you got a problem, then, because I’m going to Adobe tonight, and I don’t expect I’ll be back. You still remember how to milk a cow?” He looked at her and sneered. “Maybe you can do something around here for a change.”
“That’s not fair. I keep your clothes clean, cook your meals and keep this house.”
“And leave the buggy out front for me or the Mule to put away.” He dared her to deny it.
“Where were you to see that? I thought you were gone. Did you see Sarah Kingsley then?”
“I . . . no, I wasn’t here all day. I was in the barn when you come home. I saw you leave the rig out front.”
“Why didn’t you come in then? I didn’t hear you leave. Where were you yesterday?”
David stood and deliberately walked around the table. He dwarfed his mother as he stood in front of her. Now full grown, he stood six foot three and weighed nearly two hundred fifty pounds. He saw fear steal across her face. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” He grabbed her arm. The coffee cup fell from her hand and bounced on the wooden floor. “What I do and where I go is none of your damn business.” He shook her hard, snapping her head back and forth. “How many times am I going to have to kick your ass for you to understand that?” His voice was low and shaky.
She knew what was coming, he could see it etched in her face and reflected in her eyes. He liked what he saw as he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around and pushed her away. Following her, he kicked her between the legs as hard as he could and her back arched when he heard a muffled snap. Without a sound, she sprawled face-first on the floor.
He stood over her. “Get up,” he growled. “You ain’t hurt.” She didn’t move, so he stooped to turn her face up for a look. Her chest rise and fell as she breathed. “Get up! You’ve had your ass kicked before.”
Since Mace had warned him, David had used his foot to mete out his version of discipline. And always, he kicked her in the butt; sometimes two or three times. No one should ever see the bruises. No one ever had. But she had never gone down like this before. If she fell, she’d always gotten up and left the room with a whipped-pup whimper, usually to her bedroom, where she’d stay a while, later to ignore him completely for a few days. She couldn’t know it, but he considered the last part a bonus. He looked at her again, this time kneeling beside her. Her eyes fluttered, opened for a moment, and then shut again.
“Shit,” he said. “Lay there, then, but you still got cows to milk tonight.”
He took his hat off the hook and left. Ten minutes later he rode off, toward Adobe.
Ana waited in vain for Ruth to show up at church Sunday morning, and afterwards, Paul took her to the home place to see if everything was all right. As they approached, the unmistakable sound of a cow in distress greeted them. Paul hurried the horse into the barnyard.
“You go see about Ruth. I’ll go see what’s wrong with the stock.”
Paul clambered off the buggy and hurried to the barn. Ana tied up the horse and went to the house. Opening the door, she called, “Sis? Are you home?”
“I’m in here, Ana.” The voice came from the back of the house.
Ana hurried through the parlor and kitchen to Ruth’s bedroom door. Her sister, pale and drawn, lay in bed. “What’s wrong?” she said as she went to her side.
“I’m afraid I twisted my back. It kept me right here all day yesterday. I nearly made it up this morning, but not quite. It still hurts to bend it. I knew you’d come when I didn’t make church.” She looked past Ana toward the door. “Is Paul seeing to the cows? Those poor creatures. They’ve been bawling for hours.”
“Yes. He’ll see what’s wrong. How did you hurt yourself?”
“I was putting a pan on the top shelf, standing on that little stool. My foot slipped and I fell right on top of it. I fear I’ve broken something.” Ruth’s eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t cry now. We’re here. I’ll send Paul for Doc Princher, and he’ll take a look.”
“Ana, I’ve wet the bed. Can we clean up before the doctor gets here?”
“Of course. I’ll get some clean clothes and we’ll change everything. Can you get up?”
“I think so, with help. I’m sure once I can get on my feet, I’ll be all right. It’s just rolling over and sitting up that hurts like the dickens.”
“She has taken an awful blow to the coccyx,” Doc Princher said. “That’s the little piece of your spine right at the very end. It doesn’t do anything useful, but it’s like any other bone in your body, break it and you’re going to know it. I expect she came as close to snapping it as you can, but got away with a bad bruise. In the long run that’s best, but for now it’s actually more painful than a fracture.”
“So what’s best for her?” Ana asked.
“Well, if the pain gets too bad, I can give her some laudanum, but knowing you girls like I do, she won’t cotton much to that. No, I expect a few days of taking it real easy is the best medicine. That busted tailbone will slow her down without me telling her to. She’ll be all right.” He patted Ana on the arm. “Unless she gets worse, I won’t have to see her again, but you know where I am.” He heaved a huge sham sigh and hung his head sadly. “Everybody knows where I am.” He grinned and left the house.
“What do you think?” Ana asked Paul as they stood on the front porch and watched Doc Princher drive away.
“Same as you. Looks like . . . David.” Paul’s lips set in a hard line, and his jaw muscles twitched.
“She’s going to deny it.”
“I know, and there’s not much we can do about it. I worry about how Mace is going to react. He told me there’s a chance he and Ruth might marry one of these days.”
“Really? Now that’s odd. If Mace is thinking that way, he must have a reason, yet Ruth has never mentioned it. I wonder if she’s afraid of what David might do.”
“All I know is, the whole situation’s a mess,” Paul said.
Ana put her hand on Paul’s arm. “I’m going to stay here tonight.”
“I don’t think I like that. Where has David been and what shape is he going to be in when he gets home? I don’t like it at all.” Paul shook his head, his lips pursed.
“I’m not leaving her. Ruth can barely get up. And someone has to milk those cows.” She put her hands on her hips, knuckles down.
Paul puffed out a breath of air. “All right, I’ll go home and tell the kids where you are, and come back. I’ll wait till David comes home and decide if it’s safe for you to stay. Axel and Abe can come milk the cows.”
David saw the horse and buggy in front of the house, and recognized the roan in the traces. Uncle Paul! He rode into the barn and put his horse away. As he strode toward the house, he heard boys’ voices in the cow barn.
“I see I have company,” he said sarcastically as he barged though the front door. Paul and Ana came out of the kitchen and into the parlor. He knew he smelled of whiskey, stale tobacco and coal-oil smoke so Ana’s sniff made him smile. “Staying long?”
“I might,” Ana said. “Your mother fell and hurt her back quite badly.”
“She’s always stumbling over something. What now?” He slumped onto the sofa.
Ana’s eyes widened. “What now? She can hardly walk, spent all day Saturday and Saturday night in bed, and that’s all you have to say?” Her fists went onto her hips.
“Well, how am I supposed to know?” He glanced at Paul. “She all right?”
“She will be, but she can’t do anything strenuous for a few days,” Ana said. “That means she’s not milking cows, washing, cooking or climbing stairs. I’m going to stay a day or two and take care of her. And I’m not asking, David.”
“You may have dried your youngest cow. You know better than to leave milk cows,” Paul said.
David saw the anger in his uncle’s face. “How was I to know she let the Missour—Mr. Jensen off for the weekend?”
Ana came over to stand in front of him with Paul right behind her.
“How’d you know that?” Paul asked, his eyebrows rising. “She said you were gone all day Friday.”
“I . . . she . . . you just said they hadn’t been milked. Obviously, she told him not to come.”
“This farm is your responsibility. Why do you have to take off on these . . . adventures, like this?” Paul stepped to Ana’s side. “If you can’t or won’t take care of this place, I’ll find someone who will. And I know it’s not a matter of can’t. You’re a fine farmer. You just have to pay more attention.”
“Ana, Paul,” Ruth called from her bedroom. “Please let this go for now.”
Ana turned around and went into the kitchen to stand at Ruth’s door. “I know he’s yours and we don’t have the right to hound him, but sometimes I can’t contain myself.”
“You needn’t stay. David will help me.” She raised her voice. “David, come here.”
David came to stand just inside and leaned against the wall. “What?”
“I’m going to ask Ana not to stay. You tell her we’ll be all right.”
“Of course we’ll be all right. I’m not the best cook, but I can feed us,” he said with a sniff. He crossed the kitchen to stand where he could see his mother.
“Are you sure, sis?” Ana asked. She looked back at Paul, now standing in the kitchen entry, and he nodded.
“I’m sure,” Ruth said. “You go home and take care of yours. We’ll be fine.”
“Well, I’m coming back in the morning just the same. We’ll have coffee. I won’t take no for an answer.” Ana stepped over the bed, kissed her sister on the forehead, and went back into the parlor. David followed. She turned to face him and spoke in a low voice. “Doc Princher left some laudanum in the kitchen. If she needs it . . . well, she’ll tell you. I’ll be back in the morning.”
Paul and Ana left the house, and Paul went to the barn, returning a couple of minutes later.
“They’re almost finished. I told them to let David do the straining and come home. The young cow barely milked at all.” Paul shook his head in disgust as he climbed into the seat. Clucking sharply, he turned the horse and headed for the south road.
Mace heard a horse stop out front, and a few seconds later Paul stepped into the peaceful silence of the stable. Paul looked around until he spotted him.
“Hi, Mace, what you fixing to whack on now?”
Mace dropped his piece of chalk on the sheet of metal he’d been marking. “Got a couple braces I need to put on a mower. What’s up?” He leaned against the bench.
“Thought you should know that Ruth took a spill.”
“A spill? Is she hurt?” Mace stood up straight and stepped toward Paul.
“Busted her tailbone. Doc says that hurts like all git-out. Ana went out this morning to see how she’s doing. Ruth spent Saturday laid up in bed.”
“How’d she do that? And where was David? Off drinking?”
“Afraid so. He didn’t get back till late Sunday afternoon, more like evening, really. I had my boys milking his cows. Anyway, she said she fell on a stool . . . putting something up on a shelf and slipped.” Paul looked at the floor.
“Don’t look like you’re convinced that’s what happened.”
“I can’t say, Mace. I’d hate to think a boy would do that to his own mother. If I knew for sure he had, I’m afraid I’d . . . I don’t know what I’d do. But I don’t. It’s just something about his attitude toward the whole thing. Like he didn’t care. And that stool. It would be a stretch for her to reach the top of the cupboard standing on it.”
“Damn it,” Mace muttered. “She wanted me to go to church with her again, but I can’t abide them old biddies clucking their tongues when we come in. She’d of had help a lot sooner.”
“You couldn’t know. What’s done is done. Doc said she’ll be all right, just needs to rest for a few days. I expect she’ll be up tomorrow or Wednesday.”
Mace reached around and untied his apron. “I’m gonna ride over and see her for a minute or two. You expect that’d be all right?”
“I’m sure it would. Ana’s there, so your old hens won’t have much to cluck about. Not much chance of them seeing you anyway.”
“So much the better.”
“Gotta git. Just thought you should know. I’ll see you.” Paul gave him a weak smile and left.
Mace knocked on the door and waited. He knocked again, harder, then looked over his shoulder at Ana’s buggy. He waited another minute, and then walked around the house to the back door. It stood open, and he could see Ana at the stove.
“Ana, it’s Mace,” he called through the screen door.
“Come on in. I heard you knocking, but I’m right in the middle of egg custard, and can’t leave it for a second.” She swept a wooden spoon back and forth in a pot on the stove.
“Kinda gave me a shiver. Saw the buggy, and then couldn’t get an answer,” he said as he came into the kitchen. It smelled of vanilla. “So, how’s Ruth?” He glanced at the closed bedroom door.
“Napping. I was just about ready to wake her up. Soon as this is done, I will. Won’t be a minute or two more.” She gave him the quick smile of a woman too busy to talk, and concentrated on the pudding. Mace leaned against the door frame and watched.
She spooned a large dollop of the rapidly boiling dessert into a bowl of three whipped eggs and stirred everything together. She did that two more times to warm up the eggs, and then she dumped the mixture into the boiling pot. This turned the contents a soft-yellow color and she let it boil for another minute before pushing the pot off to the side.
“There,” she said. Reaching for a small pan, she dumped its contents of melted butter and vanilla flavor into the custard and stirred it in. “Let that set for a bit and we can have some. I’ll see if Ruth’s awake.”
Ana went to the door and opened it slightly. “Sis, you awake? Oh, good. You’ve got company.”
“Who?” Mace heard Ruth’s voice faintly.
“Mace,” Ana said.
“Oh, dear! Ana, come in and shut the door.” Mace heard that more clearly. Ana turned, smiled at him and held up two fingers. “Two minutes,” she mouthed the words silently.
Ruth sat propped up in bed, her hands folded in her lap. Mace felt completely out of place and swallowed hard to make his words start to flow. “Hi, Ruth. You look gr—I just . . . Are . . . phffff.” He puffed out his breath in exasperation.
“I’m fine, Paisley. I feel a lot better than I did yesterday, and I’m determined to get up and have a cup of coffee at my table tonight.” She smiled brightly.
Mace, seeing the smile, felt much better. “Scared the hell . . . I’m sorry . . . Paul gave me a scare when he told me you’d fallen. What the dickens were you doing?”
“I was standing on a chair putting a pot away on top of the cupboard. Somehow my foot slipped and I fell.” Her gaze faltered and she looked at her hands.
“And all you hurt was your . . . uh, your . . . you know.” Mace moved closer to the bed.
“I fell, Paisley. I was not being careful and I fell. That’s all.”
She glanced up so briefly Mace almost missed the look, but he saw enough to know she was pleading with him to believe her. His emotions ran from pity to sorrow to anger and to rage in as many heartbeats. Paul said she was standing on a stool. His teeth clenched tight as the enormity of the crime unfolded in his confused brain. How could David do this? And to someone as tender as Ruth. His breathing came fast and shallow.
“Paisley.”
Mace’s mind seethed.
“Paisley!”
“Wha, what.” He shook his head and looked at her.
She held out her hands. “Please don’t think what you’re thinking. I can’t allow it. Do you understand me? I won’t allow it.”
“But Ruth, he—”
She cut him off. “Don’t even say it. We will get through this. He’s getting better. The death of his father was a terrible blow. He has to take it out somewhere.”
“But for God’s sake it—”
She put her hand on his lips. “He’s better. I must give him a chance. Please.”
Her eyes left him no choice. “I’ll try, Ruth, I’ll try. But this—” He nodded at her. “This is hard to take.”
“I know. Just a little while. Okay?” She squeezed his hand. “Now, have a cup of coffee with me.” She faced the door and raised her voice, “Ana, can we have some coffee, please?”
“I’m sorry, Simon,” Mrs. Kingsley said. “She won’t tell me why, she just doesn’t want to see you.” She felt as confused as he looked standing just inside the front door.
Simon nodded sadly and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Mrs. Kingsley.”
She touched him on the face as he left. “I’ll tell her you called.” Irene watched him climb on his horse and turn east, toward home, and she pondered her changed daughter, a child much different from the one she’d raised. Simon told her they hadn’t quarreled, but Sarah now stayed in her room all day, coming downstairs late in the evening to sit on the porch glider. Irene soon learned to leave her alone; one wrong word and Sarah would escape to her bedroom again. She’d considered talking to Doctor Princher, but to tell him what? She so hoped it was just a passing mood.
Irene Kingsley shut the door and glanced longingly up the stairs as she went back into the parlor.