AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She tried to gauge the other women, two of which were quick to judge Porsche’s mental status but seemed to find this child’s behavior adorable and not suspect. Didn’t any of them feel a cold chill on the back of their neck? Couldn’t they see this girl was in trouble?
“There are a lot of names and then you mix in nicknames and it gets crazy,” Roadkill said then traced her finger along the patch of coat that had her name. “But a lot of us have nametags to make it easier.”
For the first time Sydney’s eyes lifted to see what Roadkill was pointing to. A little smile almost reached the girl’s eyes as she checked the other two women and then turned to Porsche.
“Where’s yours?” she questioned and the confusion between claimed and unclaimed women was on full display on the eight-year-old’s face. Porsche had been part of the Steels longer than most in Montana, but that didn’t mean she had earned a cut of her own. “Don’t you have a motorcycle?”
“I do, not up here I left it back in New Mexico and have been too lazy to move it up here,” Porsche said. “But I do have a leather coat for when I ride because they’re kinda like a magic cape that wraps you up in protection.”
“Not with your name?”
“You remember my name, right?” she said. “Besides, I don’t have a road name either.”
“I don’t have a nickname either, not really.” Her eyes turned up toward the three women with longing. “Those coats are really like a cape? Nothing bad can happen in them?”
“In a big way,” Porsche said, wishing she wasn’t seeing the yearning the girl’s eyes for a reprieve from fear.
“You should have one, I gots my daddy to protect me.” The little girl returned her eyes to the floor.
Porsche’s hands turned palm side up. “What can I say, single girls don’t get ‘em.”
* * *
Mike was watching his daughter, while she was speaking he was sure the women had to strain to hear her soft voice. The handful of questions weren’t her usual fifty or so bouncing from topic to topic as each answer spurred into another vein. The ladies standing by their table had to practically pry conversation from his normally boisterous daughter who tended to talk a person into exhaustion, but this time it was different. Reserved, to the point and trying to use as few words as possible. Unlike her normal vocabulary parade where she attempts to use fifty cent words and impress the adults.
A grandmotherly lady approached their table. “Well hello everyone. I was just finishing up supper in the kitchen and I can use yall’s help to serve it up. But I saw we have visitors and I thought I would bring our new friends some food. My name is Maggie and I’m Josh’s mother. Who are you?” She set a near overflowing plate of food down in front of Sydney.
“Red,” Roadkill quickly inserted a name to help with the overload of new people with multiple ways they liked to be identified. “She’s Red’s mama and my mother-in-law, but I tend to not add the in-law part since she’s basically my mama too.”
“Speaking of which, where is my grandbaby?”
“One is demanding to be fed,” Roadkill said as she ran her hand over the swollen belly of a woman over halfway through her pregnancy. “The other was running around with Chaos, Mayhem and Maddox in an attempt to convince Lil’ Mama she needs a fourth.”
“I’m assuming Pete is behind that foolishness,” Maggie said and Porsche whispered to keep Mike.
“Casanova or Cass to the masses.”
His daughter’s comment about too many names. Even he was getting overloaded, but he realized he’d need to start working to call Creek Hack if he wanted people to know who the hell he was talking about.
While Mike was grateful for the food he didn’t want any special treatment for him and his daughter. “I could have come up and got us food.”
“No need necessary I brought enough for both of you.” Maggie sat another overloaded plate down at the table. “You don’t have to clean your plate, but you have to at least try a little of everything. I’m working up sides for Easter dinner and I like to know what people want. Will you be joining us for Easter?”
“Yes, ma’am, we hope to enjoy the holiday before moving on.”
Roadkill, Nightingale, Dreamer and Porsche all headed toward the kitchen leaving Maggie standing at the table. With a slight sigh the older woman rested her hands on the back of the chair across from Sydney to sit and he realized he probably should take a seat with the mountain of food still warm.
“Well good, I’m glad you’re staying. The Saturday before Easter we’ll be dying probably a few hundred eggs.” She beamed. “The men say it’s for all the kids running around, but let one of them not get a basket from the bunny and you will see a grown man crushed.”
“Hundreds?” Sydney’s eyes became saucers. “I think two dozen is the most I’ve ever done, then mama said the Easter Bunny preferred to bring his own plastic ones.”
“Up here he knows kids get enough chocolate and jelly beans in their baskets so he prefers the eggs.” Maggie’s eyes were a mix of exhaustion and excitement. “With Meadow here we might get some fancy ones. She’s an artist on top of being our local teacher. But we’ve got kids from a month old to near ten. So we need a few hundred.”
“Thank you for the food. This looks good.” Sydney picked up a chicken nugget, dunking it in a yellow dipping sauce without even checking the flavor. Mike assumed it was honey mustard, but to not even question meant she was either starving or trusted the woman with reddish hair highlighted with silver streaks.
“You’re welcome little one, what do they call you?”
“She’s Sydney and I’m Mike ma’am,” he said realizing they’d been talking for five minutes without even being introduced.
