Sins of Summer (11 page)

“I’m all she has. She’s… all I have.” He took a deep breath and lifted the chair.

“James knows what he’s doing.”

“Thank God.”

Odette was wrapped in blankets and laid on the board near the stove. The clothes rack was placed over her and covered on three
sides with blankets to hold in the hot, moist air.

“Close the door, Sis. We don’t want a draft.” James turned the teakettle spout, and it sent out a plume of steam toward Odette’s
head.

Ben squatted down on his heels beside a small opening and watched as the makeshift tent filled with steam. As he listened
to Odette’s labored breathing, he promised himself that when she was better he would tell her how much she meant to him and
how glad he was that she was his daughter. He vowed never again to wonder if one of the Callahans had sired her. It no longer
mattered.

James roamed restlessly, stopping every so often to add a stick of wood to the stove.

“It’s getting pretty hot in here.” James peeled off a flannel shirt and unbuttoned the four top buttons of his union suit.
He eyed his sister’s sweaty face. Wet curls were sticking to her forehead. “You don’t have to stay in here, kinky head,” he
said affectionately. “Go make me and Waller some coffee.”

Dory went to Ben and leaned down close to his ear. “Is she breathing any easier?”

“Not yet. But her face and hair are damp from the steam so it must be going to her chest.”

Dory placed her hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed it. The action did not go unnoticed by James.

“Is there anything else we can do’?” Dory asked.

“You’ve tried the poultice and the liniment. The only other thing I know is to burn a mixture of turpentine and whiskey in
a tin can and hold her over the smoke. They say it will loosen up the stuff clogging her chest. I’ve not seen it tried, but
one of the men said that’s what his wife does when one of their young’uns gets choked up.”

“Shall we do that?” Dory asked anxiously.

“Let’s give this a try first.”

After Dory left the room, James sank down on the floor, leaned against the wall and studied Ben Waller. There was a tough,
confident look in the man’s face and a vigilance in his alert eyes that looked straight into James’s and refused to let him
stare him down. With the trained eye of a lumberman, able to size up another human being almost in an instant, James decided
Ben Waller would be a man to ride the river with. He almost smiled. Just the fact that Milo hated his guts was enough to make
James like him.

“I heard you had a set-to with Milo.”

“Yeah. News travels fast.”

“He was roarin’ mad when he got back to the mill. Said you jumped him when he wasn’t lookin’.”

Ben shrugged. “He can say what he wants.”

James laughed. “Why’d you hit him?”

“I didn’t like the look on his face.”

James laughed again. “Good enough reason.”

“—And he fired me.”

“He’s fired almost every man we’ve got working for us at one time or the other. Are you goin’ or stayin’?”

“I’d be long gone if Odette wasn’t sick.”

“Can’t stand the heat, huh?”

Ben’s face turned hard. “Can’t stand men who abuse women.”

“Don’t much care for ’em myself.”

Ben looked steadily at the man sitting on the floor. He wanted to tell him that his brothers were meaner than a hungry wolf
to his sister and Jeanmarie. But Dory had insisted that James not be told.
Hadn’t the fool seen his sister’s face?
He gave himself a mental shake. This was a family affair and he’d best stay out of it. Yet questions nagged at his mind.
He decided to voice one of them.

“Why do the Callahans hate the Malones?”

James raked his fingers through his hair and wiped the sweat from his upper lip. He thought for a full minute before he answered.

“Our mother was raised in the Malone home along with Chip and Alpha, a girl about Ma’s age. She was the apple of the old man’s
eye and when she died, he turned to my mother and doted on her. She was no blood kin to the Malones and he wanted her to marry
his son, Chip, but she married my pa instead. That’s why the Malones hate us. Louis and Milo hated our mother because she
married their pa. She was considered a Malone, so they hate all Malones. Makes a hell of a lot of sense, doesn’t it?”

“Most feuds start over some little thing that doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”

“Most of the feuding was on the part of Milo and Louis until Mick Malone was found dead in the woods. The Malones had, for
the most part, ignored us up to then.”

“They think one of you killed him because he was meeting your sister?”

“It makes sense… if you’re a Malone.” Then James’s eyes fixed unwavering on Ben’s and there was a terrible intensity in his
gaze. When he spoke again his voice was abrupt. “Don’t get it in your head that my sister is a slut. It’s rumored around because
of Jeanmarie, but no one says it to me or makes an unwanted move toward her, or they’ll get their head blowed off. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

After that one terse word, Ben looked at James in silence. How could he not know how his brothers talked to and about his
sister? Hadn’t he heard her called Whory Dory by the men at the camp?

At that moment a hoarse sound came from Odette and she began to cough. James jumped to his feet and threw back one of the
blankets so that he could kneel beside her. He lifted her head and shoulders and leaned her back against his chest.

“It’s working, Waller. Get over there and turn the spout of the teakettle so the steam comes closer to her face. Not too close,
it’ll burn her. There, girl, I think you’re going to be able to cough up some of that stuff that’s clogging your lungs.”

Odette’s head, damp from the steam, lolled back against James’s shoulder. With long calloused fingers, he brushed the hair
from her cheek. She was so slight, so helpless. The soft curves of the body against his told him she was not a child, but
a very desirable woman. A strange protective feeling stirred within him.

Then her stomach began to heave.

“Get the chamber pot, she’s goin’ to vomit.”

Holding her tightly against him, one hand on her stomach, the other on her forehead, James leaned her over the chamber pot.
Liquid spewed from her mouth and with it thick slime from her throat.

“It’s the peppermint tea Dory made her drink,” James said, and glanced at Ben.

Odette gagged and spit. She groaned and gagged again.

“That’s good, girl. Spit it out,” James murmured.

Dory hurried into the room, her face anxious. “Is she choking?”

“You filled her so full of that tea she had to vomit.”

Dory knelt down and wiped Odette’s face while Ben stood helplessly by and watched James and Dory work with the young girl
who had come to mean so much to him.

“Do you have something dry you can put on her, Sis?” James asked, as he laid Odette back down on the makeshift bed. “We can’t
let her get chilled.”

“I’ll get a nightdress. You men can go drink your coffee while I change her gown. Do you think she’ll be all right?” Dory
asked anxiously.

James stood and looked down at Odette’s pale oval face. Her thick blond braid had come unraveled and damp strands curled about
her ears. Suddenly she opened her eyes and looked directly into his. Her great blue eyes were wide open and staring… at him.
There was a strange stillness about her. He didn’t know what to say. Then her eyes drifted shut. He wanted to look into those
blue eyes again. He wanted her to see him, really see him. He wanted—

“James,” Dory prodded. “Will she be all right now?”

“I don’t know. I sure as hell hope so. Sit by her, Sis, so she don’t roll off. When we come back up, we’ll put her over in
the bed.”

James put on his shirt and went out the door. Ben’s eyes met Dory’s and held. He moved to her, put his hand on her shoulder
and squeezed gently.

“Thanks,” he said, low-voiced and husky.

She nodded.

Dory was bone-tired, too tired to sleep. James had urged her to get some rest. Ben was going to sit with Odette and had promised
to call her if there was the slightest change.

She lay in Milo’s bed beside Jeanmarie thinking that she had never, in all her life, lain on this bed. Occasionally she changed
the bedding as she had done the first night Odette spent here. Other than that she seldom even came into the room. Milo didn’t
seem to mind the dust balls on the floor or the cobwebs on the ceiling, so why should she?

Milo was getting bolder and bolder with his abuse. Tonight was the first time he had struck her face. Usually it was a pinch
or a slap some place where the bruise wouldn’t show. Thank heaven James had been too occupied with Odette to really notice
her face. By morning the swelling would be down and the bruise less noticeable.

When Dory heard the roosters crowing, she turned her head to look out the window. It was daylight. She eased out of the bed,
tucked the covers around her daughter and felt on the floor for her moccasins. After belting her wrapper tightly about her
waist, she ran her fingers through her short curls and left the room.

Ben sat in a chair beside the bunk where Odette lay, his head tilted back against the wall. His eyes were closed, his mouth
relaxed and slightly parted. Dory stood for a long moment looking at him. As soon as Odette was strong enough to travel, he
would take her and leave. This could be the only chance she would have to really look at him, to store away his image so that
she could bring it out in the dark lonely days ahead and relive the few short hours they had shared.

His hair, dark as midnight, was thick and wavy and fell down over his ears. His cheekbones were high and his strong jaw was
covered with a stubble of black whiskers. His face, she thought, was somewhat sinister looking until he smiled, which was
seldom. Dory saw a great deal more than his physical good looks. She saw a kind, strong, restless man seeking to do the best
he could for his daughter just as she was trying to do for hers.

Suddenly she realized his eyes were open and he was looking at her. Her heart lurched, but she managed to lift her brows in
question and nod toward Odette. The girl lay on her side and from the rhythm of her breathing, seemed to be resting peacefully.
Ben looked at his daughter, then back at Dory. His smile told her what she needed to know. Reluctant to leave, but not knowing
what to say if she stayed, she hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. Why, she wondered, was she so happy? It was pure madness
to feel so light and cheerful because a man had smiled at her.

Dory hummed as she pulled out the large wooden bowl she used to make biscuits. She whipped off the cloth and dropped a chunk
of lard the size of an egg into the well formed by the flour in the bowl. Next she added salt, soda and buttermilk. With her
hand she worked in the flour until she had a soft dough. From the oven she took a large iron pan she had coated with meat
grease. Quickly she pinched off globs of the dough, rolled them between her palms and placed them in the pan. When that was
done she set the pan on the back of the stove, washed her hands and began to form sausage into patties and drop them into
the skillet. The sausage fat would season cream gravy to go on the biscuits.

She set the table for three after opening a jar of the wild strawberry jam she saved for special occasions. She was pondering
whether or not to go to the cellar for apple butter when she heard footsteps on the porch. She scarcely had time to turn before
the door was thrown open and Louis, his face red with anger, barged into the room.

“Waller ain’t in the bunkhouse! Is he in here?” His angry voice filled the kitchen.

“There’s no reason for you to shout,” Dory said calmly, although she felt anything but calm.

“Answer me, damn you!”

“Keep your voice down or you’ll be in for more trouble than you can handle.”

“Don’t you threaten me, you… slut.”

“Me threaten you? Ha! Go ahead. Dig your own hole.”

“Look at ya. Ya ain’t even dressed decent. Yo’re just like your ma… paradin’ ’round… half naked… hair hangin’ down.”

“Are you crazy, Louis? My hair isn’t over an inch long.”

“Well… huh… if’n it was it’d be hangin’.”

“And this wrapper is decent!”

“I ask ya a civil question and I want a answer. Is he in here? If he is…”

“I’m here, Callahan. What are you going to do about it?”

Dory turned to see Ben lounging in the doorway, his hair rumpled and his shirttail hung out over his britches.

Ben had been looking out the window when Louis had ridden into the yard. He had watched him dismount, make a beeline for the
bunkhouse, then slam out the door and head for the house. He knew exactly what Louis’s nasty mind would conjure up when he
found Ben here with Dory, and he decided to see if he could irritate Louis to the point where he would show his hand. Evidently
Louis didn’t know that James was in the house or he’d not have called Dory a slut.

“I knew it! By gawd, I knew she’d get her hooks in ya and ya’d slack up on the job. Ya didn’t get that engine half done and
ya had to sneak off down here to
her!”

“Didn’t your brother tell you that he’d fired me?” Ben came into the room and faced Louis from across the table.

“Shitfire! He didn’t hire ya. Nobody fires ya, but me.” He turned on Dory and vented his frustration. “Ya just had to get
yore itch scratched, didn’t ya? Ya couldn’t wait till he was done with—”

“I think you’d better shut up, Louis,” Dory said, louder than she had intended. Now was not the time for James to have it
out with Louis and Milo. When Ben left, it would be one against two.

“No, Dory,” Ben said calmly, and placed his hand on her shoulder in an intimate gesture that he knew would further infuriate
Louis. “Your brother is entitled to have his say.”

“Yo’re damn right I can have my say. This is my house, by gawd. Ya’ll not be doin’ no whorin’ here. Yo’re just like yore ma,
a pantin’ after ever’thin’ with a stick ’tween his legs.”