Dorothy Garlock (24 page)

Unsure of what to do, Owen held onto her upper arms while she called him and Ana every filthy name she had ever heard. Shocked by her savage attack with fists and feet, and the rough language, he could only stare into her hate-twisted face. It was heart-rending for him to hear the nastiness that poured from his sister’s mouth.

Suddenly Soren and Gus were there. Each took one of her arms and pulled her back away from Owen.

“I don’t know what to do,” Owen said over Esther’s hissing voice that continued to spit out filthy accusations. “She’s not herself.”

“Calm down, Esther,” Gus said gently. “We’ll take you home.”

Esther turned on him. “You’ll not get me off by myself, you dirty, ruttin’ bastard. I know what you want! You think I’ll spread my legs for you. I’ll not do it for you or any other horny old goat. Work off your lust on that city slut—”

“Stop it!” Owen shouted. “Shut your filthy mouth or I’ll backhand you.” He reached for her and shook her viciously. “Don’t say such things to Uncle Gus. Hear me?”

“It’s all right,” Gus said calmly. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“Let’s get her in the buggy and take her home.” Soren picked Esther up bodily, locking her in his arms, and plunked her down on the buggy seat. He climbed in and threw his leg across her thighs to keep her from jumping out while Owen went around to the other side.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Gus. I . . . just don’t know what to say.” Owen was so shaken by the scene that had taken place that his voice was raspy.

“There’s no need for you to say anythin’, son. For quite a while now, I’ve been ponderin’ if Esther was quite right in the head.”

“I kind of thought something was wrong but didn’t want to believe it.”

“She’s been actin’ queer for ’bout a year.”

“Will you see to Ana, Uncle Gus? If she heard any of this commotion, she’ll be wondering what’s going on. Explain to her that Esther just went out of her head.”

“Don’t worry about Ana. Take Esther home and try to calm her down. If they’ve got any laudanum over there, give her a bit to make her sleep.”

Owen squeezed into the seat, picked up the reins and headed down the lane. Esther was sandwiched between him and Soren. She had stopped struggling, but she was still babbling.

“Wash clothes . . . wash the dirty goddamn clothes. Mend, cook, feed chickens, hoe the corn . . . rotten, stinkin’ old bastard—Clean the spittoon, Esther. Damn you to hell, you ugly bitch! No, Papa, I won’t, I won’t! I’ll . . . bite you,” she shouted, then broke into sobs.

By the time they reached the Knutson farm, Esther was silent and limp. She seemed to have retreated into herself.

J
ens
Knutson cast an uninterested glance at his wife’s buggy returning to the farm and went about the chore of slopping his hogs. He continued at a leisurely pace even after Owen stopped the buggy and called to him. When he finished, he shut the gate and sloshed through the mud to where Owen waited.

“Mornin’.” The old man’s eyes went to his wife sitting in the buggy beside Soren, then back to Owen.

“Morning, Jens. Esther’s not well. Soren and I brought her home.”

“Ja. She busted down again from the looks a her.” Jens shrugged indifferently. “Damn woman be more trouble than what she be worth.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Spells is what she gets. Flies off the handle ’n’ acts like she ain’t got no sense a’tall. Then gets the sulks like she be now. Lily ’n’ Hettie get plumb ’fraid of her ’n’ I get plumb put out.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“She ain’t been right since the day she come here,” he snorted, then added when Owen scowled, “Started actin’ queerer after ya brought that gal back last fall. Ranted ’n’ raved, she did, till I be sick a hearin’ it. Warn’t natural, her bein’ so worked up ’cause her brother took a woman.”

The way the old man uttered the words rather than the words themselves, and the sly look in his eyes, caused Owen’s back to stiffen and his hands to form fists.

“Watch what you’re saying, Jens,” he warned.

“Ain’t no more’n what’s been talked of by other folks. Take her back. I got no use for her no more. ’Sides I done Eustace a favor takin’ her. Ya know that. What she done here was shipshod anyhow. Lily does for me ’n’ looks after Hettie.”

“She’s your wife, man!” Owen said, knowing what the man said was true, but refusing to acknowledge it.

“I don’t give a hoot if’n she is. She ain’t never been no real
wife.
Not from the first. I ain’t ort a wed up with her nohow.”

By looking away from him Owen was able to keep his temper under control.

“She brought you a pretty good chunk of money and she took care of Hettie and Lily. You seemed happy with the arrangement at the time.”

“’Twas more a bargain fer Eustace than ’twas fer me,” Jens said. His hard old eyes never wavered from Owen’s.

Owen opened his mouth, closed it. There was no point in arguing with this stubborn old Norwegian. He turned his head to look at his sister. Esther was sitting as still as a stone, looking straight ahead. Her eyes were vacant, her dark hair straggling down over her big ears. The pity Owen felt for her was like a pain in his chest. He looked back and fixed Jens with a cold stare.

“Regardless of whether you want her or not, this is her home and here she stays.”

Jens lifted his shoulders in resignation.

“Owen’s here.” Hettie’s voice came from the porch. “Lily, Owen’s here.” She stepped off the porch and came toward them with a huge smile on her pleasant face. “Hello, Owen. What did Esther come back for? Did she get the washin’ done already?”

“Esther’s . . . not well. We brought her home.”

“She wasn’t sick this morning. What’s she sick of? Is that slut still there? Esther’s mad as a hornet over that slut being there. Is that what she’s sick of?”

“Don’t talk like that about Ana!” Owen’s jaw was clenched so tightly that the words were hissed through his teeth. “Goddammit to hell!” he muttered under his breath.

“Why ain’t Esther sayin’ somethin’? Why ain’t she scoldin’ me for comin’ out here? Why’d ya bring her back for if the washin’ ain’t done?”

“Hush up, dangbustit!” Jens snapped. “You ain’t got no business out here. Get back in the house.”

“I don’t want to.” Hettie tossed the words over her shoulder, then ignored her father. She went around the buggy and smiled up at Soren. “Hello, Soren. Me and Lily can’t come over to Owen’s ’cause of you. Esther said you’d get under our skirts, and she didn’t want no more woods-colts like Lily. Esther said you’d get in our drawers. Would you do that, Soren?”

Soren reached out and patted the top of Hettie’s head as if she were a small child. His smile was gentle, understanding.

“Of course not. How are you, Hettie?”

“Esther said you was randy as a billy-goat. She said for me and Lily to stay clear of you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Hettie. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world,” Soren said patiently.

The screen door slammed. Lily stepped off the porch and came toward them.

“Lily! Guess what?” Hettie called cheerfully. “Soren ain’t goin’ to get under our skirts like Esther said. He said he won’t hurt us none a’tall.”

Lily spun around and barged back into the house.

“Lily’s mad.” Hettie cocked her head to one side, a puzzled frown on her pleasant face. “Somebody did something mean to Lily.”

Soren watched the young girl dash for the house. Poor Lily. The humiliation she faced each day must be like a fist in the gut. Living with Esther and Hettie must be hell for a young girl. He had known Hettie all his life and was used to her frank, childish ways. He wasn’t the least bit shocked by her frankness. Like everyone else in the community, he also knew the circumstances of Lily’s birth.

A strange feeling of protectiveness swept over him. He’d caught just a glimpse of Lily’s white face before she had lifted her skirt, showing slim ankles and legs, and run for the house. She had grown into a beautiful young woman in the year since he’d seen her last.

Esther allowed Owen to lift her down from the buggy and guide her into the house. She stumbled along beside him until they entered the kitchen. Then she pulled away from him and headed for the stairs. Standing at the cookstove, turning potato pancakes, Lily caught Owen’s eye and sent a silent message that his sister would be all right.

Jens came into the kitchen followed by a man in dirty tattered overalls. His cheeks and chin were covered with a stubble of beard, and tobacco stained the corners of his mouth. The brows over his deep-set eyes came together over his nose, giving him the look of a timberwolf. Procter Himmel was a shirttail relation of Jens from near Decorah and had worked at the farm off and on for several years. Jens seated himself at the table without as much as a glance at Owen and began forking meat onto his plate.

“Ya make them tator pancakes fer me, sweetie?” Procter gave Lily a sly grin, smirked at Owen and sat down.

Lily ignored him. “Have some breakfast, Uncle Owen.”

“No, thanks. Breakfast will be ready when Soren and I get back to the farm.”

“Coffee, then?”

“No, thanks. I’ll go unhitch Esther’s horse.” He looked at Lily over her grandfather’s head and jerked his toward the door.

Lily glanced quickly to see if her grandpa or Procter had intercepted the message. Their eyes were on their plates, and they were forking food into their mouths as if they expected a famine.

“Tell Mama to come in and watch the table,” Lily called as Owen went out. “I’ve got to gather the eggs.”

“Hettie can gather eggs,” Jens growled.

“I want to see about my setting hen. Mama don’t know where she is.”

Lily turned back to the stove. She could feel Procter’s beady eyes on her back and wanted to hide. Why was he here now? The fields were planted and it wasn’t time to hoe. Lily had a feeling Procter was working to get his hands on the farm, and the only way he could do it was by marrying her or Hettie. Come to think of it, her grandpa had been mighty nice to Procter since he arrived two days ago. A sickening realization caused Lily to pause and close her eyes tightly.
Her grandpa was going to try to match her up with Procter!
Lily’s stomach almost heaved at the thought.

When Hettie came in, Lily picked up the egg basket and hurried to the door, certain that if she stayed a minute longer she would be sick.

“Yore grandpa said Hettie could do it.” Procter spoke with his mouth full.

“I’m going to see about my setting hen,” Lily said defiantly.

“Yore wantin’ to switch yore tail ’round in front of them fellers out there is what yore wantin’ to do.”

“What’s he mean, Lily?” Hettie’s large brown eyes were puzzled as she looked at her daughter. “Why is he saying that? You don’t switch your tail.”

Procter let loose with a loud guffaw.

“Pay no attention to him, Mama. Just keep the coffee poured and fry more potato cakes.
He’ll
eat anything that don’t bite him first.”

Procter laughed again, spewing food from his mouth.

“I don’t like him,” Hettie said and set her chin stubbornly. “His face is ugly.”

“Shut up yore mouth! A woman don’t say such to her men folk.” When Jens roared, Hettie cringed. “Procter’s kin. Ya treat him with respect, hear?”

Owen and Soren were waiting beside the gate leading to the pasture they would cross on the walk back to the farm. Lily came toward them. Her hair, caught at the back of her neck with a ribbon, hung to her hips. To Soren she seemed so small, so young to have such a burden of responsibility.

“Hello, Lily.” He tried to catch her eyes, but she looked down at her feet.

“Hello, Soren.”

“If I’d known the prettiest girl this side of the river was here, I’d have come home sooner,” he teased, trying to make her look at him.

Lily’s white face turned beet-red. Her lips parted slightly as though to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and scrutinized the pasture behind her uncle’s head. A strained silence went by during which Soren was exceedingly sorry he had teased her.

“You wanted to talk to me, Uncle Owen?” Owen looked at her as if his mind was a thousand miles away when she turned pleading eyes to him.

“I wanted to tell you that Mrs. Fairfax and I were married yesterday. This morning I told Esther and she just went out of her head.”

“Yes, I suspect she’d do that.” Her voice was low and husky, a throaty whisper. Soren felt a tingling go down his spine. “I thought you’d marry her.”

“She’ll be a good mother to Harriet’s boy, Lily.”

“I’ve been thinking that, too.”

“But she’ll not put up with Esther coming over and running things like she’s been doing. Esther has got to stay here. Not that she won’t be welcome to come visit,” he added hurriedly.

“I don’t know how she’ll take to that,” Lily said softly. “She’s not been . . . acting right.”

“How long has this been going on? I couldn’t get Jens to tell me anything.”

“For a while. She has a spell when things don’t go to suit her. Like about . . . Harriet. Now it’s the baby or Mrs. Fairfax. We don’t dare mention them. When she came home the other day, she went to bed and wouldn’t talk to anyone.”