Read Online The Glorious Prodigal by Gilbert Morris - Free Book Online
Authors: Gilbert Morris
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“You want to get in the front seat?”
Stuart slowly rose and stood for a moment in the bed of the wagon. He reached up and touched his head and then winced and looked at his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Devainy.
“All right,” he grunted. Moving carefully, he stepped over the seat and plunked himself down beside Ace.
“Get up!” Ace commanded, but he kept the horses to a fast walk. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Stuart sat there saying nothing for what seemed a long time. Finally he said, “Are you all right, Stuart?”
“I guess so.”
Stuart Winslow was having a hard time. He had trouble for a few moments remembering what had brought him to this place, and then he turned and said, “You hit me with something.”
“Blackjack.”
“What did you do that for, Ace?”
“Because you wouldn’t listen to reason.”
A dull flush rose on Stuart’s neck, and he could not meet Ace’s eyes. He turned his head forward and saw that they were almost at his farm. “Did she send you to get me, Ace?” he asked in a subdued tone.
“Merle came. I couldn’t let him get into trouble dragging you away from Cora’s house.”
Winslow had no answer for this. A deep feeling of shame flooded him, and he clamped his lips together and held on to the seat. His temples were beating as if someone were driving spikes through them, and he dreaded having to face Leah.
“You ought to know better than to fool around with Carter Simms’s woman.”
A hot answer leaped to Stuart’s lips, but he knew there was no proper response. As he sat there hanging on to the seat, the bile rising in his throat, he thought he was going to be sick and vomit, so he said nothing. Finally the wagon stopped in front of his door, and he caught a quick glimpse of Annie at the window looking out. She disappeared, and he finally managed to say, “Thanks, Ace.”
“Go see your wife. And it’s your anniversary, which you obviously don’t remember.”
“I . . . I guess it slipped up on me. I didn’t get her anything.”
Ace reached down beneath the seat and handed him a package. “Here. Give her this. I bought it for Ellie. You’re a sorry specimen, Stuart Winslow.”
Stuart turned to face Ace, and the man’s light blue eyes seemed to bore deep down into the cavern of his own depravity. He swallowed hard, then nodded and without another word got out. He swayed for a moment, clutching the package, and looked down at his soiled, wrinkled clothes. He did not turn, but he heard Devainy’s wagon drive away. Everything in him wanted to turn and run, but there was no running from his shame.
Moving slowly and carefully, Stuart mounted the steps andpaused for one moment with his hand on the doorknob. Why did I do it? he thought. Ace should have shot me. I’d have deserved it. Everything within him hated to have to face not only Leah but also Annie, whom he had seen glowering from the window. He had gone through this many times before; promising himself to behave, to stay away from Cora and other women, to stop drinking, to be a better husband to Leah. He thought of the child to come, and guilt and shame washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and opened the door. Annie stood in the hallway, her eyes fixed on him, her mouth turned down in a scowl. Avoiding her eyes, he moved down the hall and glanced to the left. He went to the bedroom. Closing the door, he turned to face Leah, who was in bed sitting up with a pillow bracing her. She was reading by the fading light that came through the window, and she closed the Bible and put it down by her side.
“Hello, Stuart,” she said quietly.
Stuart swallowed hard. His throat seemed as dry as dust, and the silence in the room was thick, almost palpable. From far away a rooster crowed, and then he heard the monotonous ticking of the clock. His tongue was thick, and his head was splitting open, but he moved over and pulled the rocking chair up and sat
Stuart slowly rose and stood for a moment in the bed of the wagon. He reached up and touched his head and then winced and looked at his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Devainy.
“All right,” he grunted. Moving carefully, he stepped over the seat and plunked himself down beside Ace.
“Get up!” Ace commanded, but he kept the horses to a fast walk. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Stuart sat there saying nothing for what seemed a long time. Finally he said, “Are you all right, Stuart?”
“I guess so.”
Stuart Winslow was having a hard time. He had trouble for a few moments remembering what had brought him to this place, and then he turned and said, “You hit me with something.”
“Blackjack.”
“What did you do that for, Ace?”
“Because you wouldn’t listen to reason.”
A dull flush rose on Stuart’s neck, and he could not meet Ace’s eyes. He turned his head forward and saw that they were almost at his farm. “Did she send you to get me, Ace?” he asked in a subdued tone.
“Merle came. I couldn’t let him get into trouble dragging you away from Cora’s house.”
Winslow had no answer for this. A deep feeling of shame flooded him, and he clamped his lips together and held on to the seat. His temples were beating as if someone were driving spikes through them, and he dreaded having to face Leah.
“You ought to know better than to fool around with Carter Simms’s woman.”
A hot answer leaped to Stuart’s lips, but he knew there was no proper response. As he sat there hanging on to the seat, the bile rising in his throat, he thought he was going to be sick and vomit, so he said nothing. Finally the wagon stopped in front of his door, and he caught a quick glimpse of Annie at the window looking out. She disappeared, and he finally managed to say, “Thanks, Ace.”
“Go see your wife. And it’s your anniversary, which you obviously don’t remember.”
“I . . . I guess it slipped up on me. I didn’t get her anything.”
Ace reached down beneath the seat and handed him a package. “Here. Give her this. I bought it for Ellie. You’re a sorry specimen, Stuart Winslow.”
Stuart turned to face Ace, and the man’s light blue eyes seemed to bore deep down into the cavern of his own depravity. He swallowed hard, then nodded and without another word got out. He swayed for a moment, clutching the package, and looked down at his soiled, wrinkled clothes. He did not turn, but he heard Devainy’s wagon drive away. Everything in him wanted to turn and run, but there was no running from his shame.
Moving slowly and carefully, Stuart mounted the steps andpaused for one moment with his hand on the doorknob. Why did I do it? he thought. Ace should have shot me. I’d have deserved it. Everything within him hated to have to face not only Leah but also Annie, whom he had seen glowering from the window. He had gone through this many times before; promising himself to behave, to stay away from Cora and other women, to stop drinking, to be a better husband to Leah. He thought of the child to come, and guilt and shame washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and opened the door. Annie stood in the hallway, her eyes fixed on him, her mouth turned down in a scowl. Avoiding her eyes, he moved down the hall and glanced to the left. He went to the bedroom. Closing the door, he turned to face Leah, who was in bed sitting up with a pillow bracing her. She was reading by the fading light that came through the window, and she closed the Bible and put it down by her side.
“Hello, Stuart,” she said quietly.
Stuart swallowed hard. His throat seemed as dry as dust, and the silence in the room was thick, almost palpable. From far away a rooster crowed, and then he heard the monotonous ticking of the clock. His tongue was thick, and his head was splitting open, but he moved over and pulled the rocking chair up and sat
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