Free Heart of the Sandhills by Stephanie Grace Whitson Page B

“Now what I got to show you here is just to get things straight in all our minds,” he said. He led the men inside the barn to a back stall. Inside the stall were three wire cages, each one housing a massive dog. All three were predominantly black, with powerful builds and sleek coats. One had pale gray eyes. At the sight of Daniel and Robert, the one with pale eyes lifted its upper lip, showing huge teeth in a silent snarl. Marsh uttered a strange word and the dogs instantly transformed into raging beasts, furious to escape their cages.
    When he saw both Daniel and Robert take a couple of involuntary steps backward, Marsh smiled. “Now these boys usually have the run of my place. They take good care of things. I taught ‘em only to eat what comes from my hand.” He glared at Daniel. “Had me a bulldog once that was a good dog—until one night an Injun got hold of him by offering him some jerky. Broke that dog’s neck like it was a piece of stick candy.” He grimaced. “Learned my lesson with that one. Used a pair of moccasins from a trader friend to teach these boys to attack anything that smells of Injun. Attack and ask questions later.” He sent a long stream of tobacco juice into the dirt. “I’ll see they get shut up in here right after sunrise on the mornings I know you’re comin’ to work on the place.” He glared at Daniel. “Just see that you don’t surprise me and we’ll all get along fine.” He led the way out of the barn and back to the plain, two-story house.
    Stepping up on the porch, Marsh opened the front door and shouted, “Sally! Come on out and tell these men what you want.” Two young girls’ faces appeared at a window.
    “Them’s my girls,” Marsh said abruptly. “Don’t reckon you’ll have need to talk to them at all.”
    Mrs. Marsh came out on the porch. She was rail thin and so pale as to look ill, but when she extended her bony hand to greet Robert, her grasp was firm. “Now, Abner,” she said in the voice of a woman not often denied her will, “there’s no reason for you to waste good daylight listening to a woman’s plans for fancyin’ up the place. You just go on about your business, and I’ll go on about mine with the carpenters.”
    After making his displeasure known by clearing his throat and spitting another stream of tobacco in disgust, Abner hopped down off the railless porch and headed for the barn. It wasn’t long before he emerged behind a team of mules. “I’ll just be up plowing the new field, then,” he called up to his wife, who dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Marsh made another attempt at appearing in control of his woman. “See you let the dogs out after these boys are gone,” he said.
    The moment Abner was out of sight, his two daughters appeared at the doorway, tittering like two nervous sparrows. They were pale like their mother, with dull brown hair pulled back into tight buns at the base of their thin necks and hazel eyes that were never still as they glanced nervously from Robert to Daniel and back to Robert.
    “Girls!” Mrs. Marsh said impatiently. “Stop acting like you were raised in a cabbage patch.” She looked down at Robert. “Mr. Lawrence, this is our youngest, Priscilla, and her sister Polly.” She turned to the girls. “Girls, this is Mr. Lawrence’s helper, Mr. Two Stars.”
    Priscilla and Polly offered limp hands to the two men and dipped into exaggerated curtsies, giggling all the while.
    “You must excuse my girls,” Mrs. Marsh said quickly. “Neither of them seems to have ever seen an Indian before.”
    “Oh, Mama!” the girls said in chorus, blushing.
    “Well, then,” Mrs. Marsh said stiffly, “since perhaps you have seen an Indian or two before, it would seem you could stop acting as if you have just discovered the seventh wonder of the ancient world and get some chores done.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Polly murmured.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Pris echoed.
    While the girls shuffled back inside, Robert