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Authors: Leigh Greenwood
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When Amanda reentered her mother’s bedroom, she was reclining on a silk-covered daybed next to windows hung with satin drapes. The four-poster canopy bed that dominated the room was covered by a crocheted bedspread. A huge maple armoire covered most of one wall while a marble-top table with a porcelain bowl and pitcher painted with countryside scenes stood next to her mother’s bed. Three pictures depicting various scenes from the Mississippi of her mother’s youth hung on walls covered with white wallpaper decorated in tiny red and blue flowers.
“Is that man gone?” her mother asked.
“I wish you’d let me throw him out,” Gary said.
Her mother reached for Gary’s hand. “I needed you here. Amanda is very good, but she’s only a woman. You know I depend on your strength.”
Gary didn’t appear any happier hearing that than Amanda felt, but she’d given up trying to bring her mother to a true understanding of Gary’s character. Her brother wasn’t a bad person, but since their father’s death, he’d been too much under the influence of Corby Wilson and the men who hungout at the saloon. Amanda hated their shallow values, changeable honesty, and willingness to waste time and resources on drink and gambling when both could be better spent on their families.
“I told Mr. Kincaid not to come back,” Amanda said. “I also told him we don’t owe anyone any money, that he’s either a crook or has allowed himself to be duped by one.”
“That man made me uncomfortable from the moment I saw him.”
“You mean his scarred face made you uncomfortable.”
Her mother swung her gaze from Gary to Amanda. “How can you expect a man who looks like that to be honest?”
“The same way I expect a man with an amputated arm or leg to be honest.”
“I’m sorry he was so hideously wounded,” her mother said, “but I’m glad you told him not to return.”
Gary pulled away from his mother and stood. “I need to make sure he’s really gone.”
“Yes, do,” her mother said. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I thought he might be lurking about somewhere.”
With a brief nod to his mother, Gary left the room.
“Ask Eddie to come back in the house,” her mother called after Gary. “I’ll feel more comfortable once I know he’s safe.”
“Broc wouldn’t hurt Eddie or anyone else,” Amanda said. “You saw what he did for Andy.”
“It doesn’t matter if he was kind to Andy,” her mother continued. “He tried to steal money from us. I can never forgive him for that.”
“Actually, he merely told us that we owe a debt.”
“Well, we don’t, so that makes it stealing.”
“Mother, he said we ought to check into it before we do anything. That doesn’t sound like a thief to me.” Why was she defending Broc? If she didn’t believe he was unprincipled, why had she told him to leave?
“It doesn’t matter,” her mother said. “He’s part of whatever terrible scheme is going on. If that doesn’t make him a crook, I don’t know what does.”
Despite what she’d said to Broc, she couldn’t push aside the feeling that something was wrong somewhere, that Broc Kincaid wasn’t the kind of man to be involved in a conspiracy to steal from anyone. If he had, he could easily have tried to force her to pay for the return of the bull. Or stolen it and tried to sell it to someone else. He had no reason to set Andy’s shoulder. He had even less reason to offer to see her home from the saloon.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Amanda told her mother. “He won’t be coming back.”
Her mother sat up in bed. “Do you think he’ll ride to town and tell everyone we’re debtors?” Her mother put a hand over her eyes. “I couldn’t live with the shame.”
Her mother was still haunted by the loss of her home during the war. The whole family had tried to protect their mother because they knew how devastating that loss had been, but Amanda was beginning to
When Amanda reentered her mother’s bedroom, she was reclining on a silk-covered daybed next to windows hung with satin drapes. The four-poster canopy bed that dominated the room was covered by a crocheted bedspread. A huge maple armoire covered most of one wall while a marble-top table with a porcelain bowl and pitcher painted with countryside scenes stood next to her mother’s bed. Three pictures depicting various scenes from the Mississippi of her mother’s youth hung on walls covered with white wallpaper decorated in tiny red and blue flowers.
“Is that man gone?” her mother asked.
“I wish you’d let me throw him out,” Gary said.
Her mother reached for Gary’s hand. “I needed you here. Amanda is very good, but she’s only a woman. You know I depend on your strength.”
Gary didn’t appear any happier hearing that than Amanda felt, but she’d given up trying to bring her mother to a true understanding of Gary’s character. Her brother wasn’t a bad person, but since their father’s death, he’d been too much under the influence of Corby Wilson and the men who hungout at the saloon. Amanda hated their shallow values, changeable honesty, and willingness to waste time and resources on drink and gambling when both could be better spent on their families.
“I told Mr. Kincaid not to come back,” Amanda said. “I also told him we don’t owe anyone any money, that he’s either a crook or has allowed himself to be duped by one.”
“That man made me uncomfortable from the moment I saw him.”
“You mean his scarred face made you uncomfortable.”
Her mother swung her gaze from Gary to Amanda. “How can you expect a man who looks like that to be honest?”
“The same way I expect a man with an amputated arm or leg to be honest.”
“I’m sorry he was so hideously wounded,” her mother said, “but I’m glad you told him not to return.”
Gary pulled away from his mother and stood. “I need to make sure he’s really gone.”
“Yes, do,” her mother said. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I thought he might be lurking about somewhere.”
With a brief nod to his mother, Gary left the room.
“Ask Eddie to come back in the house,” her mother called after Gary. “I’ll feel more comfortable once I know he’s safe.”
“Broc wouldn’t hurt Eddie or anyone else,” Amanda said. “You saw what he did for Andy.”
“It doesn’t matter if he was kind to Andy,” her mother continued. “He tried to steal money from us. I can never forgive him for that.”
“Actually, he merely told us that we owe a debt.”
“Well, we don’t, so that makes it stealing.”
“Mother, he said we ought to check into it before we do anything. That doesn’t sound like a thief to me.” Why was she defending Broc? If she didn’t believe he was unprincipled, why had she told him to leave?
“It doesn’t matter,” her mother said. “He’s part of whatever terrible scheme is going on. If that doesn’t make him a crook, I don’t know what does.”
Despite what she’d said to Broc, she couldn’t push aside the feeling that something was wrong somewhere, that Broc Kincaid wasn’t the kind of man to be involved in a conspiracy to steal from anyone. If he had, he could easily have tried to force her to pay for the return of the bull. Or stolen it and tried to sell it to someone else. He had no reason to set Andy’s shoulder. He had even less reason to offer to see her home from the saloon.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Amanda told her mother. “He won’t be coming back.”
Her mother sat up in bed. “Do you think he’ll ride to town and tell everyone we’re debtors?” Her mother put a hand over her eyes. “I couldn’t live with the shame.”
Her mother was still haunted by the loss of her home during the war. The whole family had tried to protect their mother because they knew how devastating that loss had been, but Amanda was beginning to
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