Kentucky Rich (2 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Rich
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1
Seventeen-year-old Nealy Coleman's chest heaved and rattled when she coughed, causing the housekeeper's faded eyes to grow wide with alarm. The toddler at Nealy's feet started to cry. Nealy reached down to pick up the little girl. “Shhh, don't cry, Emmie. Please don't cry,” she pleaded hoarsely. The child whimpered in her mother's arms.
“Let me hold her while you stick your head under that steam tent I made for you. Land sakes, child, if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to end up in the hospital or the cemetery.” The housekeeper reached for the toddler, who was barely two years old.
“All right, Tessie, but you keep an eye out for Pa. I've still got three horses to groom, and you know how he is. He doesn't like it when any of us get sick and can't do our chores.” Nealy gave Emmie over to the housekeeper and sat down. “If you sing to Emmie, she'll stop crying.”
Tessie walked around the kitchen with Emmie in her arms, crooning as she tried to calm the fretful child.
“Whatever you do,” Nealy added, “make sure supper isn't late. Pa will take it out on me if it is.” Nealy stuck her head under the towel and struggled to take deep breaths from the bowl of steaming mentholated water. She could hear the old woman singing off-key to Emmie. Something about a blackbird baked in a pie. If she wasn't so sick, she might have laughed.
Moments later Nealy heard the swinging door slam against the wall and ripped the towel away from her head. Her face dripping wet from the steam, she jerked around to face her father. In that one instant she saw everything in the huge kitchen: the coal stove and bucket, the stewpot on the stove, the old refrigerator, the clean crisp curtains hanging on the windows, her brothers Pyne and Rhy, and her hateful, angry father. So much for Tessie keeping an eye out.
The sound of rain hitting the back porch beat like a drum inside her head. Chills racked her body as she struggled to her feet. Afraid of what her father might do, she started to inch closer to Tessie and her daughter when his hand snaked out and pulled her back.
“What are you doin' lollygaggin' around in here when you have horses to tend, girl?”
Nealy threw her head back, lifted her chin, and met his angry gaze. “I wasn't lollygagging, Pa. I was waiting for the rain to let up.”
Her father snickered in disgust. “Like hell you were,” he said, looking at the bowl of water. “You got a slicker, girl. Now git to it.”
Pyne stepped forward. “I can do her chores, Pa. Nealy's sick.” Without warning, Josh Coleman swung his arm backward. Pyne took the blow full in the face. He reeled sideways, his hand going to his nose. Blood spurted out between his fingers. Rhy handed him a dish towel.
Tears filled Nealy's eyes. She staggered over to the coatrack by the kitchen door. Her hands were trembling so badly she could barely take the slicker from the peg. She turned around as she put on her slicker and looked straight at Tessie, begging her with her eyes to take care of Emmie a little while longer. The old woman nodded in understanding. Nealy cringed when she heard her father say, “Put that drooling half-wit in her bed and get our supper on the table, woman.”
Outside in the pouring rain, Nealy trudged to the barn. Once inside, she collapsed on a bale of hay and fought to catch her breath. She turned fear-filled eyes on the barn door, and whispered, “Just this once, God, help me. Please.”
Help arrived minutes later in the form of her brother Pyne. He touched his lips to her forehead. “Jesus God, Nealy, you're burning up. Lie down and rest, and I'll do what needs doing. Pa will never know. He went into his office with a bottle, and you know what that means.”
Nealy curled up in a nest of loosened hay and put a horse blanket under her head. “I don't understand you, Pyne. Why do you let Pa treat you like he does? Why don't you stand up to him and show him what you're made of?”
Pyne looked up from cleaning April Fantasy's rear hoof. “You keep thinking I'm something I'm not. I don't have your grit, Nealy. I never have, and I never will. And Pa knows it.”
Nealy sighed in resignation. It was sad but true. Pyne had no backbone whatsoever.
“He doesn't pick on Rhy, just you and me. I hate him. I hate him so much . . .” She broke into a fit of coughing. She felt like she'd swallowed a pack of razor blades. “I never felt like this before, Pyne. I think I must be dying. I see two of you. Who's going to take care of Emmie if I die?”
“Shhhh,” Pyne said as he picked up the currycomb. “I'm not going to let you die, Nealy. As soon as I finish up here, I'll take you into the house and put you to bed. Tessie told me she's going to fix you a couple of mustard plasters and that you'll be right as rain in no time.”
Right as rain,
Nealy thought as her eyes started to close.
What's right about rain?
she wondered as she drifted off.
The barn door opened and banged against the inside wall. Nealy struggled to a sitting position and was relieved to see it was Rhy, not her father.
Pyne looked over the horse's back. “Rhy!”
Rhy looked at Nealy, then at Pyne, his expression full of disgust. “Pa's in rare form tonight,” he said, picking up a hoof pick and a currycomb as he walked past Nealy toward the second stall.
Nealy didn't know what to think. Was Rhy going to help Pyne do her chores? Maybe he wasn't such a bad brother after all. Or maybe he wanted something. With Rhy, you just never knew.
“Hey, Rhy, you ever been horsewhipped?” Pyne asked.
Nealy knew that it wasn't so much a question as it was a prediction of what was going to happen if their father found out what they were doing.
“You know I haven't. If you're trying to scare me, don't bother. Pa isn't going to find out unless one of you tell him.” He bent to pick up the horse's hoof. “I can tell you this, Pa's worse now than he ever was, and it's all
her
fault,” Rhy said, pointing the hoof pick at Nealy. “Her and that illegitimate half-wit of hers have been the talk of the town for the last two years. Christ Almighty, we can't go anywhere anymore without folks whispering behind their hands.”
Nealy bristled. “Just because Emmie hasn't talked yet doesn't mean she's a half-wit. Stop calling her that, Rhy. Please.”
“Wake up, Nealy. For Christ's sake, Emmie's two years old, and she hasn't done anything but cry and grunt. Like it or not, sis, you spawned a half-wit, but worse than that you brought shame to this family and this farm. It's pretty damn hard for us to hold up our heads. Guess you didn't think about that when you opened up your legs.” He tossed the hoof pick into the bucket. “You'd be doing us all a favor if you'd just pack up and leave.”
“Rhy!” Pyne shouted. “You said you wouldn't say . . .”
“I know what I said,” Rhy interrupted, his face transformed with rage. “But that was then, and this is now. I'm tired of living this way. Tired of the gossip, the whispers, the smirks. I'm tired of it all, ya hear? I've had enough.”
Nealy bit down on her lower lip. So now she knew why Rhy had come out to the barn—not to help, but to tell her to leave. And since Pyne always wanted everything Rhy wanted, that probably meant he wanted her to go, too. But where could she go? What would she do? Even if she was almost eighteen, how would she take care of herself? How would she take care of Emmie? She tried to think, but her head was too fuzzy. Tomorrow she would think about it. Tomorrow, when she was feeling better.
A long time later, Nealy felt herself picked up and carried. She heard the familiar squeak of the barn door, then rain beat down on her face. It was cold against her hot skin. She heard her brother whisper something close to her ear but couldn't make out what he said.
A warm blast of air hit her when the kitchen door opened. She was on her feet a second later, the slicker sliding off her shoulders into a large wet puddle at her feet.
“Take her up to her bed,” Tessie ordered. “As soon as I'm finished with the dishes I'll go up and tend to her.” She handed Emmie to Rhy. Her shoulders slumped as she faced the mountain of dishes that waited for her in the soapy water.
The moment they reached her room, Rhy dumped Emmie on the bed and left. Pyne set Nealy down on the edge of the bed, his face worried. His gaze raked the room as he looked for her flannel nightgown. He finally found it on the hook behind the closet door.
“Do you think you can get undressed by yourself or do you need me to help you?” His voice was not unkind; nor was it kind. It was cool and flat.
Nealy looked up at her brother. His demeanor had changed since Rhy had asked her to leave. “No, I don't need your help. I can do it myself,” she said. When Pyne started for the door she added, “Thanks for doing my chores. I owe you one.”
Pyne glanced at her over his shoulder. “No you don't. You would have done the same for me. But what Rhy said, Nealy . . . I hate to say it, but he's right. You might as well get it through your head Pa is never going to forgive you unless . . .”
“Unless I give Emmie up and put her in an orphanage,” she finished for him. “I can't do that, Pyne. She's my baby, my child. Maybe she came into this world the wrong way, but it's my fault, not hers. I've done everything else Pa's asked. I quit school. I quit going to church though I haven't quit praying. I always pray. When I'm not sick, I work as hard as you and Rhy. Tessie says I work harder than most men. I keep up my studies here at home. And I take care of Emmie. I don't know what else I can do that I'm not already doing.”
“You can go away,” he said, then closed the door behind him.
Tears streamed down Nealy's face. She'd deluded herself into thinking Pyne loved her in spite of everything. The truth was he was just like Rhy, who was just like Pa—cold and heartless.
They'd always been that way, she realized with startling clarity. Emmie's birth had only magnified things.
The lack of love between her and her father and brothers was what had brought her to this point. Because she couldn't get any love or attention at home, she'd gone looking for it elsewhere. It was so easy to find. Too easy. He'd said the words, words she'd needed to hear, words that had lulled her into letting him make love to her. He'd offered her everything her father and brothers hadn't . . . love, comfort, joy, and promises for the future.
Lies. All lies, she realized now as she picked up Emmie and held her close to her breast.
Late the next afternoon, Nealy struggled to open her eyes and when she did she closed them instantly. Why were so many people in her room? She tried again and slowly opened one eye, thinking she must have imagined seeing the crowd of people. Maybe she was dreaming or delirious. But there they were—Pa, Rhy and Pyne. They were standing at the foot of the bed staring at her. The white-haired man with glasses was Dr. Cooper. What was a horse doctor doing in her room? And where was Emmie?
“Emmie? Emmie?” When there was no answer, she tried to crawl out of bed. It was Pyne who forced her back onto the pillows.
“Tessie has Emmie. She's got a low-grade fever and a cough,” he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as the others left the room.
Nealy eyed him warily. After what he'd said last night, she didn't trust him anymore. But what could she do? She was too weak to move. “Am I dying, Pyne?”
“Don't be ridiculous. Doc gave you a shot and said you'll be fine in a little while. Listen, Nealy. You have to get better real fast. Pa's planning on sending Emmie to the orphanage in the morning. Once he does that, I don't know if you can get her back.”
Nealy pushed the covers away and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her face felt hot, her skin stretched to the breaking point. And yet her body was cold.
“What do you think you're doing?” Pyne asked.
“Taking your advice. I'm going to leave.”
“But . . . You're too sick, and Emmie's coming down with the same thing.”
Nealy ignored him. Chills racked her body as she gathered her warmest clothes and took them into the closet. Minutes later she emerged completely dressed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and was pulling on her boots when the door opened and Emmie ran in. Tears streamed down Nealy's face as she hugged her. “I'll never let Pa take you away from me. Never.” The toddler burrowed her head against her mother's chest. Nealy rocked her feverish daughter in her arms. She looked up when her brother came to stand in front of her.

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