Free And Then Came Spring by Margaret Brownley Page A

Garrett bolted forward but the door was locked from the outside. “Eddie, open this door. Do you hear me? Open it at once!”
    Nothing, not a peep came from outside.
    â€œDrat!” Garrett kicked the door with his boot. “The boy is out of control.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Are you saying he set the fire?”
    â€œNot a fire, a smoke bomb.” He lifted his voice. “Eddie!”
    His raised voice made her flinch. “I’ll say one thing. They sure do know how to build strong barns out here.”
    â€œYou won’t be so calm if he burns down the house.”
    â€œI reckon I know why he locked us in here.” The more she thought about it, the more certain she was. “He wants us to get to know each other better.” She quickly explained about Eddie’s two schoolmates. “That must be what gave him the idea.”
    Garrett threw up his hands. “Now, isn’t this just dandy?” He gave the door a whack with his fist. “We’re locked in here and he’s running free out there. God only knows what mischief he’ll get into next.”
    She sat on a bale of hay and twisted her hands on her lap. “Perhaps if you stop yelling he’ll open the door. Right now all you’re doing is scaring him.” He was scaring her too, though she sensed he was more frustrated than angry. He was also worried about Eddie.
    â€œThat’s not all I’ll do when I get hold of him.” He plunked down on a hay bale opposite her.
    She chewed on her lip. “He didn’t mean no real harm. He just wants us to be friends.”
    Head buried in his hands, Garrett said nothing, but at least he’d stopped yelling.
    â€œDid your brother have a temper like yours?” she asked after a while.
    The mention of Daniel seemed to have a sobering effect on him. Elbows resting on his thighs, he rubbed his hands together. “Dan was the quiet one, except when he was arguing a case.”
    â€œWas he a good lawyer?” she asked.
    â€œHe was better at getting criminals out of jail than I am at putting them there, if that’s what you mean.”
    She supposed he was still blaming himself for not having captured his brother’s killer. To divert his thoughts, she asked, “And your pa? Was he in law too?”
    â€œHe was a banker. He dealt in faith and hope, just like your father.”
    She laughed. “Well now, I reckon you have a sense of humor after all.” He didn’t smile, but she’d sensed a thawing in his voice.
    He studied her. “I know about your father, but you never said anything about your mother.”
    She drew in her breath. “Ma died in an accident when I was five. That left just me and Pa. I slept in gambling halls, under the tables while he gambled.”
    A shadow touched his forehead. “It must have been a hard life.”
    â€œIt was. One night when I was twelve, my pa was losing real bad and for a joke, he let me play a hand. You don’t spend the better part of seven years in a gambling hall without knowing how to gamble and—wouldn’t you know?—I won.”
    â€œNo!” He studied her. “You were so . . . young.”
    At the time she’d felt anything but young. “I guess I had what they call beginner’s luck. I didn’t win much. Less than three dollars. Pa thought I would give it to him, but I refused. Instead, I walked out of that gambling hall and took the first stage to my aunt’s house.” Surprised to find herself sharing something she’d not shared with anyone but her aunt, she added, “It was the best thing I ever did.”
    No more sleeping on casino floors or going to bed hungry. No more putting up with her pa’s drinking during losing streaks. “My aunt taught me to read and write and how to mind my p’s and q’s. She’s a seamstress and she taught me to sew. She also took me to