Read Online Patricia Rice by Wayward Angel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wayward Angel
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didn't surprise her. "Why art thou not in town, slugging some poor brute in the face?"
He laughed at that, a wry laugh, but a laugh just the same. "I'll do that later. It takes more drink now than it did when I was younger to rouse my temper."
"I'm glad to hear that," she said simply.
"Go home, Dora. I'll be fine." She could tell he had found her gray shadow blending into the trees. The white of her bonnet gave her away.
"I tried talking to Josie," she admitted, "but she doesn't listen to me very well. People seldom do. They think I'm a child."
"You are a child," he answered curtly. "Now get back to your bed where you belong."
He was a full-grown man, a lawyer on the verge of being an important person. She was seventeen, small for her age, and invisible. Dora understood his curtness, but she ignored it.
"Josie's parents told her marrying Charlie was the best thing to do. She was raised to listen to her parents, Pace."
He stood silent for a moment, hands in pockets while the wind off the river whistled around him, tumbling his hair into his face. Finally, he answered, "Maybe they're right. Maybe Charlie is the best thing for her. Maybe she's the best thing for him. I've heard it said a woman can be the making of a man. Maybe she's just what Charlie needs to settle down."
And maybe the moon was made of green cheese and angels flew from trees. Dora didn't respond. She couldn't lie.
In drunken response to her silence, Pace regarded her with a leer. "Maybe when you grow up, I'll marry you, girl. When are you going to shed those dowdy clothes and become a butterfly?"
She understood the anguish that had drawn those words from him. He didn't really mean them. But still the pain of his cruelty cut through Dora like a fine-honed blade, forcing awareness of their differences. He was a worldly man, far beyond the ken of her sheltered upbringing.
With a sad nod, she whispered, "Good night, Friend Pace."
He watched her go, a diminutive gray sprite vanishing into the mists. For one brief moment Pace had the absurd notion of capturing the sprite in his arms, easing his aching heart with her closeness. Something intuitive told him she could take the pain away, as she had already eased it.
Common sense told him he was crazy.
* * *
Dora heard Pace crossed the river that night to join the Union army in Indiana. The Kentucky legislature's waffling back and forth between their Southern sympathies and their professed love of the Union led them to make no stand at all. Neutrality was not a concept Pace understood.
Chapter 5
Faith is to believe what you do not yet see;
the reward for this faith is to see what you believe.
~ St. Augustine, Sermons (5th c.)
December 1861
"Payson might be a burr under the saddle, but one thing he's not, and that's a fool." Charlie propped his boots on the embroidered ottoman and drew on his cigar. "Someone has to show Lincoln a state's got rights, and he can't steal a man's property, and I reckon those hotheads down South will do it, but I sure as hell don't want to be in their shoes when the shouting's all over. If we stand behind the Union, Kentucky will come out sitting pretty. Hell, Lincoln won't dare take away our slaves. He needs us too much."
Joe Mitchell put his hands behind his head and puffed a smoke circle at the ceiling. Removing the cigar from his mouth, he used it to gesture widely. "This war sure is wreaking havoc with the slave trade, though. I'll have to find a more profitable sideline. I'm thinking of building me a toll road to the rail line."
Homer sipped his bourbon and belched. "There's a good profit in smuggling corn to the rebs. They pay a damned sight more than the Yankees."
Charlie sucked on his cigar a little longer. "They keep making it tougher to get anything down South though. I don't relish getting my brain shot out trying to make a few dollars. I reckon since I'm the one with the fool brother in the army, I better start preaching a Yankee
He laughed at that, a wry laugh, but a laugh just the same. "I'll do that later. It takes more drink now than it did when I was younger to rouse my temper."
"I'm glad to hear that," she said simply.
"Go home, Dora. I'll be fine." She could tell he had found her gray shadow blending into the trees. The white of her bonnet gave her away.
"I tried talking to Josie," she admitted, "but she doesn't listen to me very well. People seldom do. They think I'm a child."
"You are a child," he answered curtly. "Now get back to your bed where you belong."
He was a full-grown man, a lawyer on the verge of being an important person. She was seventeen, small for her age, and invisible. Dora understood his curtness, but she ignored it.
"Josie's parents told her marrying Charlie was the best thing to do. She was raised to listen to her parents, Pace."
He stood silent for a moment, hands in pockets while the wind off the river whistled around him, tumbling his hair into his face. Finally, he answered, "Maybe they're right. Maybe Charlie is the best thing for her. Maybe she's the best thing for him. I've heard it said a woman can be the making of a man. Maybe she's just what Charlie needs to settle down."
And maybe the moon was made of green cheese and angels flew from trees. Dora didn't respond. She couldn't lie.
In drunken response to her silence, Pace regarded her with a leer. "Maybe when you grow up, I'll marry you, girl. When are you going to shed those dowdy clothes and become a butterfly?"
She understood the anguish that had drawn those words from him. He didn't really mean them. But still the pain of his cruelty cut through Dora like a fine-honed blade, forcing awareness of their differences. He was a worldly man, far beyond the ken of her sheltered upbringing.
With a sad nod, she whispered, "Good night, Friend Pace."
He watched her go, a diminutive gray sprite vanishing into the mists. For one brief moment Pace had the absurd notion of capturing the sprite in his arms, easing his aching heart with her closeness. Something intuitive told him she could take the pain away, as she had already eased it.
Common sense told him he was crazy.
* * *
Dora heard Pace crossed the river that night to join the Union army in Indiana. The Kentucky legislature's waffling back and forth between their Southern sympathies and their professed love of the Union led them to make no stand at all. Neutrality was not a concept Pace understood.
Chapter 5
Faith is to believe what you do not yet see;
the reward for this faith is to see what you believe.
~ St. Augustine, Sermons (5th c.)
December 1861
"Payson might be a burr under the saddle, but one thing he's not, and that's a fool." Charlie propped his boots on the embroidered ottoman and drew on his cigar. "Someone has to show Lincoln a state's got rights, and he can't steal a man's property, and I reckon those hotheads down South will do it, but I sure as hell don't want to be in their shoes when the shouting's all over. If we stand behind the Union, Kentucky will come out sitting pretty. Hell, Lincoln won't dare take away our slaves. He needs us too much."
Joe Mitchell put his hands behind his head and puffed a smoke circle at the ceiling. Removing the cigar from his mouth, he used it to gesture widely. "This war sure is wreaking havoc with the slave trade, though. I'll have to find a more profitable sideline. I'm thinking of building me a toll road to the rail line."
Homer sipped his bourbon and belched. "There's a good profit in smuggling corn to the rebs. They pay a damned sight more than the Yankees."
Charlie sucked on his cigar a little longer. "They keep making it tougher to get anything down South though. I don't relish getting my brain shot out trying to make a few dollars. I reckon since I'm the one with the fool brother in the army, I better start preaching a Yankee
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