Free Sins of Summer by Dorothy Garlock Page B

outsider comin’ in lordin’ it over us.”
    “I hear the donkey blows pretty easy.”
    “I hope the hell it does an’ takes him with it.” Milo’s voice rose as his anger escalated. “Sonofabitch’s sittin’ in there
     eatin’ at my table while I eat with a crippled up old beggar.”
    Resentment stiffened Wiley’s back. “I’m crippled. I won’t argue that. But I ain’t no beggar and never have been.”
    “If I say yo’re a beggar, yo’re a gawddamn pissin’ beggar,” Milo shouted as he flung himself from the table, sending his chair
     crashing to the floor. He slammed the pudding pan into the slop bucket and jerked on his coat and cap before he stomped out
     the door.
    Wiley sat for a moment, relieved that he was gone. Then he left the table and hobbled into the darkened part of the bunkhouse
     so that he could look out the window. Milo was saddling his horse. Ben Waller’s horse stood by the porch. That explained Milo’s
     bad mood and cut lip. Wiley would bet his last dime Milo had had a run-in with Waller over his daughter. The man was going
     to get hisself killed fooling around with young girls. It was just a matter of time.
    Like a shouted warning the realization came to Wiley: Things around here were about to change—forever. Waller wasn’t a man
     to be pushed or one who backed down. His loose-knit frame and the careless way he held his hands to his sides, the air of
     quiet watching, was a trifle too well-managed, too pat. Wiley had been around long enough to know that Ben Waller was a bobcat
     with bristles on his belly. By jinks damn! Milo might not be so lucky next time.
    Wiley waited until Milo was astride his horse and heading toward the mill before he left the window and went back to the table.
    He looked at the pudding pan upside down in the slop bucket and shook his head in disgust. It was a childish, irrational act
     to dump the pudding. It spelled out clearly what Wiley had thought all along: Milo was going crazy in the head—as crazy as
     his ma had been before she died.
    It didn’t look good for Dory and the baby unless Waller stayed around. Wiley wondered again if he should break his promise
     and tell James the straight about a few things. Still, if he did that and James had an
accident,
Dory would be alone. It was a hell of a mess.
    There was total silence in the kitchen while Ben ate the meal Dory had placed before him. Odette had shaken her head when
     asked to eat and continued to hold Jcanmarie. who had cried herself to sleep. With a heavy heart Dory sat down at the table
     and waited for Ben to finish his supper.
    She was determined to make him understand that Odette was in no condition to make that long ride to the Malones’. The croupy
     cough she’d had since the day after he brought her here had held on in spite of the dosing of hot tea and honey Dory had given
     her. Now Odette’s flushed cheeks were a sure sign of a fever. Dory couldn’t blame Ben for wanting to take his daughter from
     this place, but oh… it would be so lonely here when they were gone.
    For a brief moment Dory considered asking Ben to take her with him. She could stay with the McHcnrys for a while. It was only
     fair that her daughter know her grandparents. She had no doubt that Chip and Marie would take to her baby. But would they
     try to take her baby away from her?
    The only time Chip Malone had seen Jeanmarie was when she was a lively two-year-old. The giant of a red-haired man had stood
     as still as a stone in the doorway of the store and watched the little girl with bright red hair run up and down the aisles
     and play peek-a-boo behind stacks of merchandise. Fearing he would snatch her child and take her away. Dory had scooped Jeanmarie
     up in her arms. Holding her breath, she had waited to see what Chip Malone would do. He had looked at her and the child for
     a long while, his eyes as bright a blue as Mick’s, and those of Mick’s daughter’s, then had abruptly turned on his