Read Online The Storm by Shelley Thrasher - Free Book Online Page A

lived in that cabin for nigh on thirty years. Yes, sir, she couldn’t imagine wanting a better place than this.
    If only Calvin was here, rocking beside her. She could barely remember what his hand felt like on her cheek. Come to think of it, she’d trade her fine house for their log cabin quick as a wink if she could have him back.
    The screen door squealed on its hinges, and Molly sashayed out. She belonged in the parlor, not on the porch. Always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
    â€œPatrick, it’s time to do your schoolwork,” she said. “You’ve been out here long enough.”
    â€œBut, Mama, I want to stay. Please? I’m almost seven. The grownups always talk about interesting things. I won’t bother them. Can’t I just listen?”
    â€œMaybe you could make an exception, Miss Molly,” the preacher said.
    â€œIf you think it’s all right, sir. Now, Patrick, you behave yourself.” Molly hesitated, glanced at the empty porch swing, then left.
    The next thing you knew, that dry stick would want to sit out here with them on a Sunday afternoon, she thought. Great day in the morning! Then she’d want to read the newspaper first. Not even James got such special treatment.

    *

    Jaq sat in her idling Model T at the end of the Russells’ driveway, trying to decide whether to motor on up to their house. Was she crazy? Why had she decided to drop in on them without a proper invitation? Well, Mrs. Russell had asked her to visit when she felt sociable.
    After her conversation with Angus, she’d become restless and decided maybe she and Molly could have a quiet talk. She wanted to find out how much Molly actually resembled Sister Mary. Hopefully, the preacher had already left. He’d spent last night at the McCades’ house and rambled on till nearly ten o’clock, but he hadn’t just talked. He’d flirted with her in his indirect, sleazy way.
    She’d thought Eric would set him straight, but he’d just sat there. He’d clammed up not long after they’d reached New Hope and he and Angus had talked awhile. Maybe he was missing his mother and his brothers, so she hadn’t wanted to intrude. The preacher was harmless, yet he irritated her. Besides, his flirting showed disrespect for Eric, even if their marriage was bogus.
    What if she got stuck with the man of God and Mrs. Russell all afternoon? Damn. It’d serve her right for dropping in on them, but that empty house was already driving her nuts.
    Why was she sitting here trying to rake up enough nerve to chase Molly Russell? Hadn’t she learned her lesson about unavailable women? It was bad enough to be in this out-of-the-way place. Maybe she should mind her own business, not get into trouble by pursuing Molly.
    Eric and Angus would be hungry when they got home. She’d have to fix them something to eat—again. Maybe some leftover biscuits and lumpy gravy. Hell. They needed to find Angus a cook and a hired man, fast.
    Oh well. What did she have to lose? She was a lost cause anyway, so she might as well do what she wanted to, instead of what other people thought she should. Maybe it’d keep her from being so damn bored, at least. Or maybe it’d keep her from remembering what happened in France.

    *

    The preacher reared back on two legs of the ladder-back chair. Mrs. Russell glared at him, and he straightened up.
    â€œMrs. Russell, Mr. James. I read in the Tyler paper yesterday that Mrs. Minnie Cunningham, that heads that gang of suffrage ladies down in Austin, has struck a deal with the governor. They’re gonna let all the women in the state vote in the July primary. How do you like them apples?” He puffed up like he was telling them something they didn’t know.
    She’d been reading about some hussy named Alice Paul stirring up women all over the country. Got the ones that could already vote out West to set themselves against the