Free Montana Bride by Joan Johnston Page B

as he followed Griffin away from the fire. There was still enough sunlight to see in the grassy circle where they’d camped, but Griffin kept going until they reached a Douglas fir at the edge of the clearing, where the boy’s sullen face was lost in the deepening shadows.
    Griffin searched out a white-trunked aspen among the stand of pungent evergreens, peeled a switch from one of the bare, wind-whipped branches, and handed it to Karl. “Here. Go ahead and give me some licks. I deserve it.”
    Karl took the switch without thinking, then searched out the gleam of the boy’s dark eyes in the shadows and said, “I know it must have been difficult for you and Grace to leave your home in Cheyenne to come to the Montana Territory.”
    Griffin snorted. “Not hardly.”
    “Why not? What was wrong with it?”
    Griffin opened his mouth to speak and snapped it shut again.
    Karl waited him out.
    Finally, Griffin said, “Grace is the one who wanted a pa, not me. I was happy with the way things were.”
    “With just you and Grace and your mother, you mean,” Karl said.
    Griffin kicked at a pile of rotten leaves with the toe of his boot. “Yeah. With just us.”
    “Your ma said your father died shortly after you were born, and that you haven’t had a father for most of your life. I’d like to be your pa if you’ll let me.”
    “I don’t see the big deal about having a pa. All you’ve done so far is order me around and ask me to work like a dog.”
    Karl choked back the laugh that sought voice because he knew it wouldn’t help his efforts to discipline the boy. He tried to remember what role his own father had played in his life. Mostly, he’d been absent. Or absorbed in projects with Karl’s older brother.
    Karl had never really thought much about parenting his mail-order bride’s children, because they were supposedly seven and nine—still young enough to be tied to their mother’s apron strings. Whatever his age, Griffin was already clever enough to manipulate the world around him. He needed a man to guide him and set an example for him.
    Karl had thought about the kind of father he wanted to become, which was the kind of father he’d wished he had. “Fathers teach their sons to be men of character and honesty,” he said. “They teach the importance of working hard to get what you want, of being responsible for yourself, and taking good care of those you love.”
    “I take care of myself just fine,” Griffin retorted. “I don’t need help from anyone.”
    “What about taking care of those you love?”
    “Grace is pretty good at taking care of herself, too,” Griffin said.
    “What about your mother?” Karl said. “If I’m not mistaken, she gave up her supper to make sure you didn’t go without. Seems to me your sister joined her without a second thought. I figure they’re both pretty hungry right about now because you were too proud to accept your punishment.”
    Griffin hung his head and shuffled his toe over the golden pile of aspen leaves again. In a low voice he mumbled, “You can whip me now if you want.”
    Karl broke the switch in half and threw it aside. “I have a far worse punishment than that in mind for you.”
    Griffin looked up at him, the whites of his eyes visible, his shoulders braced for whatever blow was on the way. “I’m not afraid. Do whatever you want.”
    “Fine. Since Grace did your job for you today, you can do her job for the rest of the week.”
    It took Griffin a moment to process what he’d said. Then he blurted, “You want me to
wash dishes
? That’s a girl’s job!”
    “Bao does it all the time. I intended for Grace to help him, but I think under the circumstances, you should take her place for a week.”
    “I hate washing dishes.”
    “All the better,” Karl said. “I’ll expect you to fill up that tarp under the wagon with wood this coming week as well.”
    “You want me to do my job
and
Grace’s job? That’s not fair!”
    “I suspect you’ve