“Who would she marry?” Daniel asked. “She don’t want to marry Reverend Baxter. He doesn’t even bother to invite himself to dinner anymore. All the other men around here are either years older or years younger, except for the damn coward, and I know Meg ain’t interested in him, not the way she glares at him during church service. I’m surprised he hasn’t burst into flames.”
The table shook as Thomas pounded his fist down on it. “By God, I don’t want talk of that man in my house.” He glanced at the empty chairs on either side of him, his jaws clenched. “He turned his back on my sons. By God, we should have hanged him the day our sons rode away.” Rising from his chair, he stalked out of the house, the door slamming in his wake.
Accustomed to his father’s outbursts, Daniel simply shoved his plate forward and laid his forearms on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Some of us are thinking maybe we ought to tar and feather the coward.”
“What would that accomplish?” Meg asked, tearing her gaze from the vibrating door.
“Might make him leave this area. Every time there’s a good wind, it brings the stench of his fear blowing across the fields.”
“That’s not enough,” Meg said quietly. “Daniel, do you remember when you took Michael’s harmonica without asking?”
Daniel dropped his gaze to the table and nodded. “Yeah, and I lost it.”
“Did he tar and feather you when he found out?”
“No, he just gave me that puppy dog look of his and made me feel guilty as hell for losing his most treasured possession.”
“And you still feel guilty about it because you came to understand what you took from Michael. The town’s coward needs to understand that he betrayed my husband and our brothers so he can carry the knowledge and pain with him for the rest of his life.”
“How can we make him understand that? I sure as hell ain’t gonna give him a puppy dog look.”
Gazing into his earnest face, she was tempted to tell him about the monument, but Daniel hadn’t yet acquired the patience that came with age. She didn’t think he’d understand the motives behind the monument. She didn’t want to take a chance that he or her father would try to stop her from watching Clay work. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I’m sure there’s a way.”
Meg felt the familiar ache in her heart as she watched the twins race toward her, each trying to outdistance the other. She didn’t know how she could miss something she’d never had, but she did miss having her own children. Dismounting, she smiled and waited for them to reach her.
“Mornin', Miz Warner!” they cried as they ran past her, circled, and loped back, breathless from their efforts.
She ruffled their red hair. “Good morning.”
“Want us to see after your horse?” one asked.
“Do you know how to care for a horse?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy’s eyes brightened. “Clay taught us last night. It ain’t that much different from takin’ care of the mule. Clay said lookin’ after a lady’s horse was the gentlemanly thing to do, and he wants us to grow up to be gentlemen. Says it’s important to know how to treat a lady.”
She handed the reins to the twins, and they started walking toward the shed.
“We had biscuits again this mornin',” the twin continued. “Clay musta used your recipe ‘cuz they was better than what he cooked before. ‘Course, they still wasn’t as good as yours, but they come pretty close.”
“Did he make three?”
“Yes, ma’am. He surely did. Course, he’ll probably stop eatin’ one if Lucian comes home.” “When will Lucian be home?”
“Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. Before he left, he hit Clay.”
Meg stared at the child. “He hit him?”
“Yes, ma’am. You know what Clay did?”
She shook her head.
“He just got up off the ground, wiped the blood away from his mouth, and asked Lucian if he felt better.”
“Did he feel better?”
“No, ma’am. We think he felt a sight worse. He moped around the barn all day. Then Clay asked him if he wanted to get away for a few days. Lucian jumped on that idea like a fly on a cow chip, and off he went with the oxen.” He shrugged. “But we don’t know if he’s comin’ back.”
“I’m sure he’ll come back,” she said, trying to instill conviction in her words when she wasn’t at all certain. Lucian’s hatred of Clay rivaled her own.
