Free Stained Snow by Fallon Brown

stayed by the table until the hoofbeats retreated from the yard. His hands kept clenching into fists at his side. Finally, he turned and headed for the door. “I have chores to finish myself.” The words felt like glass against his throat. He had to get out.
    “Dinner’s about ready, William,” his mother said, her voice still tight.
    He wanted to scream she was choosing the wrong son again. Instead he kept walking toward the door. “I’m not hungry right now. I might eat later.” He didn’t care about the chores, they could be finished after dinner.
    He couldn’t stay in the house any longer when everything tried suffocating him. Hard work might help get the air back into his lungs.
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 10
     
    Lander, Wyoming Territory
    October 27, 1877
     
    William stood in front of another grave. David hadn’t gotten any better. Four days ago he didn’t even try to get out of bed. William checked on him before going out to do chores and check on the herd with Patrick. He’d been breathing but sleeping. When they got back before dinner, his mother said David had slept all day. He’d gone in to try to rouse him to at least eat something and found his skin cold to the touch.
    William had hit his knees on the floor beside the bed and pulled his son’s body to him. He held him there until Patrick returned with the doctor. It was too late. Doc thought the bullet shifted and nicked something. He had no idea how long he’d been bleeding inside. The doctor said probably not too long, or he would have died even sooner.
    It didn’t matter. He was still gone.
    The fog William had been walking through for the last several days finally felt like it lifted. With David buried, nothing held him here any longer. He could find Thomas and make him pay for everything he’d done. He knelt between the two crosses marking his family’s graves. “I’m sorry. It won’t bring you back, but I’m going to get justice. I promise you that.”
    He stood up and shoved his hat down on his head. He turned and headed out of the cemetery. He didn’t make it far. His mother came running up to him as he reached the gate and threw herself at him. “Please, William, don’t do it. Don’t go after your brother. You can’t do this to him.”
    Her words made his blood run cold. She had always taken up for Thomas, as if he could do no wrong. She never believed it when he did. Even when he attacked William with that knife. She insisted William must have instigated it. It had always been that way.
    He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her aside. Patrick stood a little ways down the street, his hands in his pockets. He’d already tried to convince William to go back home with them. “I’m sorry, Ma. You think your other son is perfect, but he killed my family. He destroyed everything good in my life. I can’t let him get away. Not this time. You may not have cared about Anna, but she’s my wife. I know you loved David. I can’t let him get away with this.”
    “I did care about her,” she cried, “but you don’t know it was him. It could have been anybody.”
    “I do. I should have been there to stop him. I’m going to fix that now.” He let go of her and walked past her.
    She cried his name, but he kept walking. He didn’t go to the sheriff’s office, where he’d bunked while making the funeral arrangements. Instead, he walked down the street, toward the livery stable where his horse waited.
    The hostler stood in front of the barn when William reached it. “I didn’t figure you’d be stayin’ long.”
    William shook his head. “No, Al. I need to be going after him.”
    “I understand, Will. Your pa does too. Even if not everyone does.”
    “Why did he try to stop me if that’s true?” Will asked, but he was already moving into the barn.
    “Because he worries about you, too. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, even if he knows why you must do it.”
    “I won’t let anyone stop me, Al.