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

Democrats a couple years back and had been nearly driving President Wilson crazy since then. Humph.
    Why, the President had enough on his mind without them pitching a fit. Riding around the countryside on a train and wearing their prison clothes. Making speeches complaining about bad food and rats. Spoiled Yankee city women that didn’t know a thing about hard times. They deserved everything they got.
    All that nonsense just to let women vote. She had twice as much sense as most men, but her ma didn’t vote, and neither did her grandma. If that was good enough for them, it was good enough for her.
    â€œWell, sir, I’m too old and set in my ways to get all het up about running to town and casting a ballot,” she told the preacher. “One politician is as crooked as the next, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I’ve got enough to do here without stirring up trouble like these silly women. They need about five kids each. That’d settle ’em down real quick.”
    James nodded then shut his eyes and went right to sleep.
    The preacher fished around for something else to discuss. “I spent last night with the McCade family and talked to Mr. Angus about his two younger sons.”
    â€œIs that right?” she asked. “So you met the new Mrs. McCade then?”
    He blushed. “Yes’m. She’s an interesting person. Different from most all the women ’round here.”
    â€œAin’t that the gospel truth? Anyways, I don’t aim to waste my time talking ’bout her. How’s Eric?”
    The preacher looked sad. “Well, ma’am. I never knew him, but last night he didn’t say much. Sat in the corner glaring at me.”
    â€œLordy. That doesn’t sound like the Eric I’ve always known.”
    â€œThe War’s most likely changed him,” the preacher said. “He acted like he was mad at the world, and I can’t say as I blame him, being wounded like that.”
    James had waked up and looked worried. “I’ve always put a lot of stock in that boy. He’s the pride of the community.”
    But she figured Eric’d been through a lot and needed to rest. Then he’d be back to his old self. She changed the subject. “What did Angus McCade say ’bout his two youngest boys?”
    â€œOh, he was about to bust a gut. Said they’re having the time of their lives up at Camp Funston in Kansas, meeting young men from all over the country. But they said it was mighty crowded. Over sixty thousand soldiers, they reckon.”
    â€œLand of Goshen,” she exclaimed. “That’s half the size of Dallas. Have the men been well?”
    â€œThe boys said the influenza at Camp Funston was pretty bad, but not to worry about them none.”
    She smoothed back her hair. It felt oily. She’d better wash it with Borax Saturday. The weather was getting warmer. Maybe she could dry it in the sun.
    Just then three big blue jaybirds flew out of the chinaberry tree and landed in a large oak in the unfenced section of the front yard. Jeeah, jeeah , they screeched.
    She jerked her head up and stared past the white fence and down the long driveway. A T-Model had pulled off the road and sat still with its motor running, wasting gas. Who in tarnation had the gall to come calling without letting her know? Would she ever get to take her Sunday-afternoon walk?

    *

    Jaq drove up toward the big house through huge oaks. Then, right before she parked, she spotted a green automobile sitting up on blocks under a shed. What a waste. She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her bangs.
    Mr. James ambled over and opened the gate like an old-fashioned gentleman. “What an unexpected pleasure. Welcome, Madame , to our humble abode. We don’t get many visitors as comely as yourself. And with such a mellifluous name. The feminine version of Jacques, I believe. And isn’t Jacques French for