Free [Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek by Jan Watson Page A

two weeks since the burial, and Will still spent his days roaming around the woods with the baby tucked inside his shirt. At intervals when Will could no longer ignore her mewling cry of hunger, he would show up at their door and hand the infant over for a feeding. Each evening at dusk he’d leave the baby for Emilee to bed down with little John, then go sleep by the creek, alone.
    Daniel knew Emilee was near exhaustion. Laura Grace wanted to nurse constantly during the night to make up for what she missed during the day. Also, to add to Emilee’s indignation, the baby had a bad rash. Even Granny’s special paste of borax and honey didn’t clear up her sore bottom, and she cried every time Emilee washed her.
    “Emilee,” Daniel replied, “I swear I’d druther be in hell with my back broke than to interfere with Will that-a-way.”
    “If you don’t remedy this situation soon, you won’t have to go to hell to get your back broke. I’m near dry as a lizard on a hot rock now. And this little girl don’t need to suffer because her pa’s gone quare.”
    Daniel’s tone turned sharp. “To think you’d say that after what Will’s been—”
    “I know. I’m sorry. But he ain’t the only one to suffer a loss,” Emilee said, a trace of anger in her voice. “I miss Julie too, and I love her baby like my own. Will needs to let me have her, Daniel. I want to raise her up with little John.”

     
    Granny commenced stirring the bubbling thick oatmeal she was fixing for their breakfast. She could stand in the middle of the week and see both ways to Sunday on this one. Daniel was right to allow Will to heal in the only way he knew how, but Emilee was also right in her desire to protect the baby. Granny had thought Will’s treks would stop of their own accord, that he would come to terms with his loss, but so far there seemed to be no lessening of his pain.
    She portioned the cereal into white ironstone bowls, topping them off with a dollop of blackberry jam. She set the bowls on the table beside the platters of fried ham and biscuits. Food will help, she reckoned. A full belly don’t grumble.
     
    The baby was newly fed and freshly bathed when Will came for her later that morning. She’d had her first dipping bath, for her navel cord had finally shriveled and come off. Daniel met Will at the door and took him to the barn for a “little talk.”
    Granny and Emilee tarried on the porch. Granny picked over pintos, flinging the pebbles and broken beans out into the yard. Emilee busied herself by untangling a morning-glory vine and trailing it up the string she had fastened with a tack to the eave of the cabin.
    “Granny, this will be purty when it blossoms,” she said. A fat red hen scratched around her feet. “It’ll make a nice shade where I can set my rocker and feed my babies.” The hen cocked its head and pecked at Emilee’s bare toes. “Shoo, now. Shoo!” Emilee flapped her apron. “There’s corn in the chicken yard. I don’t want you messin’ on my clean porch.”
    They watched Daniel put his arm around Will’s shoulders and heard Will say, “Never, Daniel! I’ll never give my baby up!” Will stalked away from Daniel and stood, arms dangling at his sides, shoulders slumped, looking out across the valley for the longest time.
    He’s got so thin, Granny worried. It’d take two of him to make a shadow.
    She could see his resolve from where she sat. First his spine stiffened; then he stood straight as a sourwood sprout and put his hands on his hips. He turned back around and spoke in a voice so soft Emilee cupped her hand to her ear. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you and Emilee have done for us, but my baby keeps me sane. Having her with me stills the anguish in my heart. Sometimes, up in the hills, I just hold her and look at her, and she looks right back with eyes so full of wisdom. . . . It’s like Julie is telling me how to survive through our daughter.”
    Having reached some