Read Online Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] by Yesteryear - Free Book Online Page A

one another in their despair. When Addie had looked up and seen him, her pride had taken over. She had lifted her head high; and although her cheeks were wet with her tears, she had sailed by him and calmly gone about doing what she had to do.
    “Let’s get a cool drink, Colin. I think we deserve it, don’t you?”
    At the well, John loosened the rope and let it slide through the pulley until he heard the bucket hit the water. After it filled, he drew it up, set it on the plank platform around the well, and reached for the dipper hanging on the post. He offered it to Colin.
    “That crosspiece holding the pulley is pretty wobbly. If you have a length or two of wire, we could strengthen it.”
    After Colin drank, he handed back the dipper and walked to the barn. John drank, then carried the water bucket to the chickens’ watering trough and emptied it.
    Colin returned with a piece of rusty wire and a pair of iron pincers.
    “It’s the section resting on this post that’s loose,” John said, moving around the side of the well. “If I hoist you up on my shoulders, you can reach it and wrap that wire around it and the post in a figure eight.”
    Colin nodded. John took off his hat and swung Colin up to sit astride his neck. Then he steadied him while Colin put his bare feet on his shoulders and stood. John held on to the boy’s legs while he worked. When he was finished, John lifted him down.
    “Good job. It’ll hold until that wire rusts through.” John picked up his hat. “Are you ready to tackle the hole in the wall of the chicken house? It’s a wonder a fox hasn’t discovered that loose plank.”
    Colin shrugged.
    “I’ll get a sheet of loose tin from behind the barn. Do you have any nails?”
    Colin nodded and went into the barn. When they met at the chicken house, the boy had a dozen square, rusty nails.
    “If you have extras, it’s a good idea to stick them down in lard or goose grease. Keeps ’em from rusting and they drive easier.”
    After they had repaired the side of the flimsy chicken house, John boosted Colin up on top to nail a piece of tin over a hole in the roof. Later, he followed the silent boy into the barn and they put away the tools.
    “Colin . . .” When John put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, Colin flinched away, as if the hand were hot.
    “What?” he said crossly.
    “Something’s wrong here. It’s not my way to butt in to other folks’ business, but if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”
    “Ain’t nothin’ ya can do.” Colin turned his back and leaned against a stall railing.
    “There might be. I can tell that Mrs. Hyde is troubled. That preacher riled her a-plenty. Lordy, she’s got a temper.”
    “I ain’t never seen her so mad. That damned old Sikes is a . . . a mule’s ass!” Sobs clogged the boy’s throat.
    “You’re probably right about that. What’s the old son of a bitch up to?”
    “He’s . . . h-he’s gonna take me away from Miss Addie.”
    “Take you? How can he do that? Is he kinfolk?”
    “No!”
    “Were you left in his care?” John asked gently.
    “He says . . . he says our maw left us to the church.”
    “How long have you been with Miss Addie?”
    “Two years. She likes us—”
    “There’s no doubt about that. It’s plain she thinks a heap of you and your sister.”
    “She s-says I’m
her
. . . boy. Old Renshaw’s a . . . a bastard!”
    Colin turned suddenly, threw his arms about John’s waist, and pressed his face against him. Deep racking sobs shook the boy.
    Stunned, John stood there with his hands on the boy’s shoulders, not knowing what to say or do. He had once seen his mother cry like this, when his baby sister died. He was trying to think of comforting words to say when Trisha darted into the barn with the end of the rifle pointed right at him.
    “Git away from ’im! I shoot ya dead, white man!”
    Soft, tumbled black curls framed her face and cascaded about her shoulders. Her face could have been etched