“What’s this? What did you say?” Patrick was pleased to see that at last he had his grandfather’s full attention.
“Mr. Phillips comed to the school. Mama didn’t like what he said. He grabbed her arm and wouldn’t let go. She yelled and I butted him with my head . . . and . . . hurt his dinger. He pushed me down and . . . Helen was awful scared. She cried loud, and Mr. Phillips called her a brat and . . . here’s Mama . . . she’ll tell you.” Patrick was so excited his words were running together. “Tell Grandpa what I did, Mama.”
Jacob set the oil can on a barrel, wiped his hands on a rag, and waited.
“What’s all this?” he asked as Letty and Helen approached. “Did Oscar bother you again?”
“Not much. He got a little excited, but Patrick took care of it.” Letty smiled and winked at Jacob. “You’d have been proud of him, Grandpa. He took up for me and Helen.”
“I run at him like this,” Patrick said, putting action with his words. He lowered his head and charged. “I butted him with my head and hurt him. He pushed me down and yelled at Mama to make Helen shut up. I was goin’ to punch him a good’n—”
“Shhh . . . honey,” Letty put her hand on Patrick’s head. “Here comes Mr. Phillips. Coming to apologize, no doubt,” she added dryly.
“He was mean. He said to me, ‘you bastard.’ That’s what he said. What’s that, Grandpa? Is it somethin’ nasty?”
To have her son called that dreadful name was almost more than Letty could bear. Pain knifed through her like a fistful of needles. Suddenly, there was an emptiness inside her so deep that she could almost feel wind blowing through her. She gripped her hands together and blinked back the tears.
Oscar dismounted and came to within a few feet of her, his hat in his hand.
“I’m plumb sorry, Letty girl. I’m jist as sorry as I can be for what I done. I jist don’t know what come over me.”
Letty stood stiff and silent.
“Get off my place, Phillips. Don’t come back.” Jacob spoke with quiet authority.
“Ah, Jacob. You don’t mean that. We been neighbors for ten years. Letty jist got a little excited and scared the boy. The little feller was right in what he done and—” Oscar’s eyes moved past Letty. “What’s he doin’ here?” he snapped rudely.
Letty turned to see a man climbing down from the windmill. His back was to her but there was no mistaking that broad back and blue-black hair. He had come back! Her throat froze up solid. He had the grease bucket in his hand. He had been working on the windmill! She watched him climb down the ladder, his hair blowing in the wind. Casually, he set the bucket down and strode toward them, his dark eyes never leaving Oscar’s face. He walked up to him and, quick as the flick of a whip, his hand, black with grease, shot out and grabbed a fistful of Oscar’s white shirt.
“What? W-what? W-who?” Oscar stammered. “You’re that feller what come in the store.”
“I’m the one that’s goin’ to stomp you into the ground if you ever touch Mrs. Graham again. And this”—Mike hit him so hard that his feet left the ground before he sprawled spread-eagled on his back—“is for what you did to the boy. Get on that horse and ride out. But first apologize to the lady for what you called her son.”
A sudden paralysis kept Letty rooted to the spot where she stood. Helen’s arms were around her waist, her face buried between her breasts. The two seemed to be holding each other up. Patrick gazed open-mouthed at Oscar Phillips lying on the ground, blood gushing from his nose.
Oscar got to his knees, then slowly to his feet and stood on not quite steady legs. His forearm was pressed against his mouth trying to stop the flow of blood from his nose.
“Sorry, Letty,” he muttered. It took several attempts before he was mounted on the horse. He looked down at Mike. “You’ll be sorry fer this.”
“Mr. Fletcher told you to get off his land and not to come back. I’ll be here if you do.” With his fists on his sides, Mike watched Oscar ride out of the barnyard.
“Jimminy Christmas!” Patrick shouted. “Did ya see the blood, Grandpa? Did ya see old Mr. Phillips fly up before he fell down? Bam! Bam! Boom! Boom!” He danced around flaying the air with his fist in a make-believe fight.
Mike turned around and met Letty’s eyes head-on. She was the Letty of his dreams only much more beautiful. Her hair was the same rich auburn, her mouth wide and sweet, her eyes like empty stars. The desolate look on her face cut him to the bone. Sweetheart, you’re tearing the heart right out of me.
Letty stared at him. Their eyes held in a silent war. She was afraid that if she moved the frustration and anger inside her would explode. Vibrantly aware of the big, dark man towering over her, she finally spoke.
“Grandpa? What’s he doing here?”
“Greasin’ the windmill.”
She broke her gaze with Mike and turned to look at Jacob. “And that’s all?” she asked as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.
“No. There’s a heap a thin’s what needs to be done. Dammit, Letty, ya know we been needin’ help—”
“I’ve closed school. Helen can watch Patrick and I can help—”
“There be thin’s ya can’t do, girl.”
“Such as?”
“Greasin’ the windmill,” Jacob said with exasperation in his voice.
“I’ve greased the windmill.”
“—And scared hell outta me thinkin’ ya’d fall.”
“I don’t want him here. I told you that.”
“I know ya did. It’ll be fer jist a little while.”
“Pay him off, Grandpa, and make him leave.”
“No.” His face turned stubborn. “I hired him on . . . fer a spell.”
“For how long?”
“Middle of summer.”
Swallowing her rising panic, she said, “Why are you doing this to me, Grandpa?”
Jacob walked over to the barrel and picked up the oil can. Mike watched the emotions play across the old man’s face and saw that he was visibly shaken. This confrontation was hard on him. For a moment Mike feared he would relent and tell him to leave. Then the muscles clamped above his jawline and determination claimed his expression.
“Ain’t it time to fix supper, Letty?”
“What just happened is not a good example for Patrick,” Letty said with equal determination in a voice not quite even. “I don’t want my son copying him.”
“Phillips got what was comin’ to him. If I was younger I’d a done it myself.”
“I can handle Oscar Phillips. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Now you have someone to do it for you,” Mike said, wiping the grease from his hands and wishing there were some way he could ease the old man’s anguish.
Letty knew that Mike was looking at her, but she didn’t move. Shocked and hurt that Jacob would go against her wishes, Letty lowered her burning eyes to the ground. She swallowed the assortment of lumps in her throat and stared so hard at the toes of her shoes that the very effort dried out her eyes. She spoke to Jacob without looking up.
“You’ll not change your mind?”
“Dolan’ll not bother you none. When the work’s done, he’ll go.”
“All right.” She took Helen’s hand and started for the house. “C’mon, Patrick.” Patrick ignored the summons. He was rubbing the toe of his shoe in the blood on the ground. “Patrick!” she called again. He dropped to his knees to examine the dark, wet spot in the dirt. Stiff-limbed, Letty stalked to the house without him.
Mike watched her until she disappeared into the house.
“Ready to give it up?” Jacob asked.
“Not on your life.” Mike hurt. He hadn’t realized she hated his presence quite so much, or that her cold treatment would leave him feeling quite so forlorn. “How long’s this bird been bothering her?”
“He’s been tryin’ to court her since his woman died. He brings a cottontail once in a while ’n’ offers to get me some white lightnin’. Got hisself all duded up today
to come callin’. Haw! Haw! Haw!” Jacob’s mirthless laugh was more of a dry cackle. “You shore played hob with that white shirt of his’n.”
“Hey, Mister—”
Mike looked down at the boy tugging on his pant leg. An extremely powerful emotion grabbed and shook him. This spirited little black-haired, black-eyed tyke was his son. His and Letty’s. He wanted to pick him up and hug him to his chest. He wanted to feel his little arms about his neck. I’m your daddy, son. The words pounded in his mind. He couldn’t say them. Not yet. It was too soon. The boy didn’t know him, he thought with a pang of regret. He squatted down on his haunches.
“Call me Mike.”
“Mama won’t let me call grown-up people by their first names.”
“Well in that case, call me Dolan. That’s my last name.”
“I know my ABC’s.”
“You do? Aren’t you a mite young to know so much?”
“I’m five.” Patrick held up one hand, fingers spread.
“Not yet you ain’t,” Jacob said. “You won’t be five till Sunday.”
“You got a birthday Sunday? Well, what’a you know.”
“Grandpa says I . . . jump the gun when I say I’m five before my birthday.”
“Guess your grandpa’s right.”
“Grandpa said I shouldn’t’a kicked ya and now I wish I hadn’t’a.”
“I understand how it was. You were protecting your mama. It’s what you should have done. No hard feelings on my part.”
“She don’t like ya no more’n she likes Mr. Phillips.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
“You like her?”
“Yes, I do. I knew her a long time ago.”
“Before me?”
“Before you. We’ll have to work together to make things easier for her. Is it a deal?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to shake on it?”
Patrick’s small hand was swallowed in Mike’s. It was an effort for Mike not to squeeze it too tight. He didn’t want to let it go. His heart was pumping like an oil well in his chest. I’m your daddy, son. How he longed to say the words. He silently got to his feet before the boy could see that his eyes had misted. His watery gaze passed over Jacob’s face. The old man was silently watching Patrick’s reaction to him.
“You stayin’ for supper, Dolan?” Patrick asked. “You sure did hit old man Phillips a good’n. Boom! Boom! You bloodied his nose. Wait’ll I tell Jimmy Watkins. I bet you can beat up on anybody, Dolan.”
“Wait a minute, Patrick.” Mike put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and hunkered down again. “I hit Mr. Phillips because he grabbed your mother and because he pushed you down. I thought he needed a lesson. A man who goes around beating up on people because he’s bigger and stronger is a bully.”
“Ya didn’t hit him because he called me a b-bastard?”
Mike glanced quickly at Jacob. The old man had his head bent over the machine he was working on. He wouldn’t get any help from him.
“That was part of the reason I hit him.”
“Is that a nasty word like shit and pee?”
“I guess so . . . but in a different way.”
“How?”
“How?” Mike scratched his head and searched his mind for a way out of the fix he found himself in. “It’ll take some explaining. Tell you what. One of these days we’ll get us a fishing pole, go down to the river, and fish. I’ll tell you all about it then.”
“Go fishin’? Grandpa! Hear that? Me’n Dolan is goin’ fishin’.”
“Not until the planting’s done,” Mike said quickly. “A farmer has to get his work done before he can go fishing. And . . . your mother will have to give her permission.”
“Mama’ll let me. She likes to fish. I’ll go tell her.”
“Don’t bother her now. Who feeds the chickens and gathers the eggs?”
“Mama does. Sometimes Helen helps.”
“I’d do it, but that goose makes a run for me every time I go near the chicken house.”
Patrick grinned. “He won’t if I’m with you.”
“I’m glad to hear that. How about showing me what’s to be done and you and I will take over the chore.”
CHAPTER
10
Letty stood in the middle of the kitchen, seeing nothing and hearing only the drumming of her heart against her ribs. She felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she at first failed to hear Helen calling to her.
“Mrs. Graham? Mrs. Graham, is he . . . is he a bad man?”
Letty jerked her attention to the little girl peering up at her and holding onto her skirt with both hands. An odd, frightened expression darkened her blue eyes.
“What did you say?”
“Is he a bad man?”
“Mr. Phillips?”
“No. That other man.”
“He isn’t a bad man. We don’t have to be afraid of him.”
“But . . . but you were s-scared. You wanted Grandpa to send him away.”
“I was angry, not scared. I knew him a long time ago when . . . when he was a boy.”
“He won’t hit us? Or do bad things?”
“Heavens no! Oh, honey, you don’t have to be afraid of every man you meet.”
“I don’t like Mr. Phillips.”
“He wanted me to stay and listen to what he had to say. Patrick just thought he was going to hurt me. I wasn’t afraid of him.”
“I don’t like him,” Helen repeated softly, her head bowed.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t either.” Letty lifted Helen’s chin to look into the child’s face. “Honey, did your daddy hurt you and your mother?” she asked softly.
Helen pulled her chin from Letty’s fingers and looked down at the floor. “Sometimes,” she whispered.
“Oh, honey.” Letty hugged the girl to her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s over and it’s best not to think about it. No one will hit you here. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I wish . . . I wish I could stay with you . . . forever.”
“So do I, honey. I’ll talk to Doctor Hakes and see what we can do.” Letty held the girl away from her and smoothed the blond hair out of her face. “Go upstairs and change out of your school dress. We’ve got the chickens to feed and the milking to do.”
Helen left the room and Letty went to the window. Mike was hunkered down talking to Patrick. Oh, Lord! What was he telling him? Patrick began to jump up and down. Mike stood and put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. They went toward the chicken house, Patrick chattering and looking up at the tall man.
Letty moved away from the window and put her hands to her cheeks. Never had she imagined that Mike would come back to claim his son, and never had she dreamed that Grandpa would go against her wishes and allow him the opportunity to win Patrick away from her. She was caught in a trap of circumstances. It was unbearable. Day after day she would be seeing the man who had used her, gotten her with child, and deserted her. The pain of that realization and knowing her beloved grandpa had betrayed her almost sent her to her knees.
“Mrs. Graham?” Helen’s voice seemed to come from far away. “What’s the matter, Mrs. Graham?”
Letty took her hands from her face. The child had that scared look on her face again. Letty forced a smile.
“Nothing is wrong. I felt a little dizzy for a minute. Must be the excitement. The milk pail is there on the shelf. While you rinse it out, I’ll change into my work clothes.”
Letty escaped to the room upstairs. She must be careful not to distress Helen. The child had seemed quite happy of late. Patrick was so excited over the attention he was getting from Mike, he wouldn’t notice if she dropped dead, she thought with a pang of self-pity. Oh, Lord. She needed to get away so that she could think. They would go to town Saturday. If Grandpa would rather have Mike’s help than hers, he could have it. While in town she would see Doctor Hakes and ask him about Helen’s f
ather. Now that she thought of it, she would spend the day away from the farm and visit the Pierces and the Watkinses on the way home from town. It would be a way of keeping herself and Patrick out of Mike’s company for an entire day.
Determined to show Mike just how little his presence meant to her, Letty slipped into a faded, patched, brown dress, black cotton stockings and her old high-laced shoes, and tied an apron made from a flour sack around her waist. After she had twisted her hair into an unbecoming knot, she fastened it to the back of her head, looked into the mirror, and grimaced at her reflection.
Helen, with the milk pail in her hand, was waiting for her beside the kitchen door. Letty threw a shawl about her shoulders, and they went out onto the back porch. Thank heavens, Mike was not in sight. But neither was Patrick. Jacob was still working on his planter. Letty, with Helen’s hand clasped in hers, walked past him and into the cow lot where Betsy usually waited. She was not there. They went on into the barn and found her in her stall chewing contentedly on the feed that had been put in her feedbox.
“Mama! Me ’n’ Dolan got the eggs ’n’ fed the chickens,” Patrick screeched, startling Letty and sending her heart racing. He jumped off a stall rail, fell to his knees, and bounced to his feet. “Me ’n’ Dolan’s goin’ to fix the chicken house. Dolan said a fox could get in and eat the chickens. We’re goin’ fishin’ when the plantin’s done. Dolan said I’d have to ask you if I can go. I told him you like to fish too.”
Mike came slowly down the aisle behind Patrick. Letty could feel his eyes on her face. His tall body seemed to fill the space all around her, and there was no way out. She moved to escape out the side door, but Helen blocked the way.
“Patrick and I gathered the eggs and fed the chickens, Letty.” Mike held out the egg basket with one hand and took the pail from her hand with the other. “I’ll milk. I’m sure I haven’t forgotten how. Ma made all of us kids take a turn.”
Letty snatched the basket from his hand. Without a word or a look in his direction, she pushed Helen ahead of her out the door. For the briefest moment she saw the boy she had known so long ago. She wouldn’t let herself soften toward him. She wouldn’t. Seeking the safety of the house, Letty walked so fast that Helen had to run to keep up with her. When they passed Jacob, she failed to see the concerned look on his lined face when he saw the look of despair on hers.
Ribbon in the Sky Page 12
