Chapter 27
Bad Blood
June 1, 1868
Dakota Territory
Woodrow looked down at his wife’s still form while Pearl began unbuttoning her dress. Seeing Pearl’s work-roughened hands so close to the body he himself had only the barest knowledge of, proved too much.
“I need some air,” Woodrow choked out and fled the room.
“Well, go on, then Coward,” Pearl grumbled over her shoulder. “Close the door behind you, by the way. Tell Ennis, we’ll have to wait supper while I deal with this situation.”
Her last words brought Woodrow to a halt, hand on the door.
He glared back at Pearl’s broad, black-covered bottom bent over his wife. “You just remember. This situation you’re dealing with is my wife." Woodrow growled. He stepped through the doorway and slammed it behind him.
Ennis and Michael both looked up expectantly at Woodrow, but he gazed past them, to his young niece, Jewel, pulling a string along the ground while a half-grown kitten stalked it. Why couldn't life be that simple he wondered.
His eyes never leaving the child, he asked in a deadly-quiet voice, “How the hell do you know my wife, Michael?”
“Now Woody,” Ennis warned. “It ain’t what you’re thinking."
“I think it’s might darned funny they both show up at the same time, don’t you, Ennis.”
“Dad-blamed it, Woodrow. That ain’t nothing but coincidence. Give the boy a chance to ex--,”
“It’s all right, Pa,” Michael interrupted. “Uncle Woody needs to know.”
Woodrow’s chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. He sank down on the nearest chair, all the strength drained out of him.
“Just what do I need to know, Michael?” Woodrow asked through numb lips; seeing all his dreams for a happy future crumbling right before his eyes.
“Hear him out, before you say a word, Woody,” Ennis cautioned.
Woodrow’s voice cracked as he turned towards his brother. “You mean you knew about them--and didn’t tell me?”
“See what I mean. You’re always jumping the gun, Woody. Just hear the boy out, damn it.”
Woodrow and Michael both flinched at Ennis’s rare use of a curse word.
Ennis glanced down at his adopted son. “Go on and tell him, Son. Maybe Woody can help us get this mess untangled.”
“You want to know how I know your wife, Uncle Woody?” Michael asked, standing up. He set his leg on the top step and pulled his pants leg up. He heard his uncle’s intake of breath in the terrible hush on the porch.
Very deliberately, Michael leaned over and knocked the dottle out of his pipe by banging it against his prosthesis. The hollow sound echoed across the valley.
Woodrow stared at the wooden leg like he had never seen one before. If it had been a snake, it would have struck him, and he wouldn’t have been able to stop it. How come he never knew about Michael having a wooden leg? What happened to his real one? What possible connection could Rose have to Michael’s wooden leg? The questions swirled around Woodrow’s befuddled head like gnats on a fresh pile of horse manure. Nothing made sense, he thought, as he gazed at Michael, bewildered.
YOU ARE READING
A Bride For The Asking -- (on hold)
RomanceRose McGregor flees the post-civil war south as a mail-order bride, with no other hope than to have a home of her own, a full stomach, and someone to take care of her. She never expected to find more pain and hardship than she's already suffe...
