Free Sins of Summer by Dorothy Garlock Page A

and
     her lips felt as if they were glued together. She managed to nod as she turned back to the stove.

CHAPTER
* 6 *
    “What’er ya lookin’ at, old man?”
    Wiley had looked up when Milo had stomped into the room and slammed the door. He continued to look as Milo shook off his coat,
     tossed it on a chair and dabbed at the blood on his mouth with the towel he jerked from the washstand.
    “Did a stick of stove wood jump up and hit ya?”
    “What’a you care?”
    “Wondered. That’s all.” Wiley broke off a piece of bread and dipped it in his soup bowl.
    “Keep yore trap shut,” Milo growled. “I ain’t in no mood to take no sass off a crippled old fool who don’t do enough to earn
     his keep.”
    Wiley grunted and continued to eat. He had heard those words or others like them a hundred times before. How a man as good
     and kind as George Callahan could have raised Milo and Louis was beyond Wiley’s understanding. George Callahan’s first wife
     had been alive when Wiley had come to work for him. Milo had been a kid of eight or nine years, Louis a few years older. Even
     then Milo had been a mouthy, cantankerous brat, the image of his ma—a woman Wiley never heard speak a kind word from the first
     time he set eyes on her until the day she died. Wiley suspected that George had never had a happy day in his life until he
     married Jean Malone. He had fairly worshiped the woman and had gone downhill fast after she died.
    Until the time of his accident, Wiley had been cutting foreman. He was injured when a falling tree split and kicked back,
     striking his leg with such force that it broke the bone in several places. Unable to get Wiley down the mountain to a doctor,
     the men in the camp had set the bones. They had done their best, but their skills were limited and their supplies scant. As
     a result, Wiley was permanently crippled.
    When he was able to get around, George had brought him down to the homestead to help the smithy. He had taken to the job,
     determined to earn his keep. He was good enough now to get work most any place he wanted to go, but he hung on here because
     he thought he might be of some use to Dory and the baby.
    Milo hooked a chair out from the table and sat down. “Get me something to eat.”
    Pride forced Wiley to hold his head erect and look the man in the eye.
    “Soup’s on the stove. Here’s fresh bread.” He pushed the wooden board holding the loaf of bread closer to Milo. “Thought ya
     was eatin’ in the house.”
    “Keep yore damn thoughts to yoreself, ya old goat.” Milo pushed his chair back and went to the stove. “What’s this other stuff
     here in the pan?”
    “Bread puddin’.”
    “Ya got it pretty soft, ain’t ya, old man. Whory Dory bringin’ puddin’ an’ pie so ya’ll keep yore mouth shut ’bout her whorin’
     when me and Louis ain’t here.”
    Wiley didn’t answer. He didn’t mind it so much when Milo or Louis took their spite out on him, but when they talked about
     Dory in an insulting way it made him want to horsewhip them. He kept his head bent over his bowl so that Milo would not see
     that the words bothered him. In this mood, Milo was as mean as a rutting moose and if aggravated might really hurt him. A
     few months back Milo had yanked a chair out from under him and he had been laid up for a week.
    “I’m talking to ya. Ya deaf like that dummy in there?”
    “I heard ya,” Wiley muttered.
    Milo brought the pudding to the table and began to eat out of the pan.
    “That high-handed sonofabitch Waller will get what’s coming to him for buttin’ in my business. You can bet your ass on it.
     There’s plenty a ways of gettin’ even.” Milo scooped up another spoonful of pudding.
    “Louis is dependin’ on him to set up that engine so they can snake those big’uns out of the woods.”
    “Hell. It don’t take no brains to set up that pissin’ engine. It ain’t no different than the one in the mill. We ain’t needin’
     no