Chapter Eight

Mrs. Brady stood in front of Jess, between him and the door, gazing at him with those mother's eyes of hers that told Jess she knew very well that he was anything but fine. Staring back vacantly, he sought to give the sweet lady some reassurance that he was at least steady on his feet and functioning.

Barely able to force any words out, he quietly said, "Much obliged for the kindly welcome, ma'am."

"Of course. And you remember, Jess, you will always be welcome here."

Mrs. Brady patted his arm and squeezed Francie's hand. She stepped aside and then followed them as Jess led his sister out the door and to the wagon, where the Brady boys waited.

"Hope you'll be around here for a while, Jess." Gil's view darted from Jess to Francie, where it lingered.

Still in a mournful daze, Jess didn't notice the exchanged look of tenderness between the two. He made no response other than a nod to Gil. He climbed up onto the wagon, reaching a hand down to help Francie as Gil lifted her and she settled in the seat.

Jerome stepped toward the wagon, a look of deep sympathy on his face. "Sure want to do more talking with ya, Jess. Before you head out, or I do. You take care now, buddy."

Jess managed to make eye contact. Of all the Brady boys, he had been closest friends with Jerome. Making no commitment about the talk, his strained, raspy reply conveyed sincere concern. "You be watchful o' them yankees, Jer."

Jerome nodded as he put his arm around his mother's trembling shoulders.

Without a further word, Jess flicked the reins and started forward, his horse trailing at the back of the buckboard where Jerome had tethered it. Silently, he drove toward Ebal Harper's farm.

Francie didn't say anything. She knew Jess wouldn't want her to. Not even to distract him from his pain. She waited until he finally spoke.

"Francie, are ya tellin' me everything?"

Bewildered, she asked, "What do ya mean?"

"Johnny… Was there anything else that coulda made him pass out, so's he fell in that crick? Like… with his head maybe? A concussion or such? From hittin' his head earlier… or a blow… or somethin'?"

"I don't know how there coulda been. I saw him right before him and Matthias left to fish, and he was fine then. Laughin' and jokin'. The two o' them had become real good friends." She stared at her hands, folded in her lap. "I thought they were goin' over to the pond. Didn't know they were intendin' to go up yonder to that high crick." She sighed shakily. "You know how Johnny's heart's always been."

Jess nodded, a forlorn look in his eyes.

"Poor Matthias. He's still havin' trouble handlin' it, 'cause he couldn't help Johnny." Francie carefully observed Jess's frown, his eyebrows drawn up the way their Pa's did when he was thinking hard, or was curious, or had intense feelings of some kind. "Why? What are you wonderin' 'bout?"

"Did Ebal…" His voice trailed off.

"Did Ebal what? Jess, what is it?"

"I reckon he got mighty put out when Johnny had rough days and couldn't work." Jess's eyes pinched with inner turmoil as he ground his next words out low. "Did he ever beat Johnny?"

His throat constricted at his thoughts. "Has he ever hit either of ya?" Then he looked intently into his sister's eyes. "Or…" He swallowed hard. "…h-hurt… you?" He cringed as he whispered the question.

"You can let go o' that worry," Francie said softly. "No, Jess, he's never raised a hand to either of us." Understanding her brother's unspoken fear, she added, "He's never even tried to git near me."

Jess released the breath he'd been holding.

"In fact," Francie continued. "Johnny and me… we talked about it a couple times. How we were surprised Ebal never tried to take a belt to us like he does to his kids. Or slap us around like he does them and Janeene. He does plenty of hollerin'. Orderin' us around. Makin' demands 'bout work he expects done. But no matter how mad he got─and he's always mad─he never so much as gave us a tap."

"Good. 'Cause if he ever did─" Jess cut off the thought that almost slipped out. He focused on the horses.

Francie watched him, pondering the tension in his jaw and the way he was gripping the reins so tight. Suddenly, her eyes widened as a new thought occurred to her.

"It's because of you, isn't it?"

He was silent, never taking his eyes from the road.

"He's left us alone… because of you!"

Jess kept his gaze fixed on the horizon.

In a very quiet voice, Francie said, "Jess… what did you do?"

He clenched his teeth.

"Jess?"

"The law'd say I don't have no claim for tellin' him 'bout handlin' his own kids. Wish I did," he said regretfully. "But you and Johnny…"

Francie studied the brother who always looked after her and his younger siblings. "Before you left, you threatened him, didn't ya?"

"I just told him how it would be."

"And how's that?" she murmured fretfully.

The muscle in Jess's jaw twitched. His words were strong, raw. "I told him if he ever laid a hand on you or Johnny… I'd kill him."

Francie quietly sucked in her breath.

What Jess did not tell her were the details of the night before he left.

How after everyone else had gone to bed, he had found Ebal on the porch, drinking and whittling by lantern light. He didn't tell her how Ebal had bragged, "Folks'll be thinkin' I'm a gall-durned saint, takin' in them two strays." He didn't tell her how the man had laughed. "Likely the store'll give me all the credit I want. And them church biddies'll send over all kinds of stuff to help."

Jess didn't tell Francie how the lowdown snake had gloated, "And here I'll practic'ly have me two slaves." How he had mockingly glared at Jess and added, "At my beck 'n' call." Jess didn't tell her how Ebal had grinned and licked his lips, staring off across the ranch yard with a feral gleam in his eyes, and muttered, "And one of 'em a right purty girl."

The wagon rolled steadily along, and Francie sat quietly, thinking of how Ebal kept his distance.

"You know, Jess, even with you tellin' him you'd kill him, I'm still surprised it stopped him from whoopin' on us. Or doin' worse."

Jess glanced at her and then quickly back to the road.

He would never tell her about that night.

How his blood boiled at the wickedness his drunken distant cousin spouted.

How, even with his burned and bandaged hands, he had grabbed Ebal by the shirt front and hauled him from the chair. How he had slammed the piece of scum up against the house.

Francie would never hear how Ebal fell forward to his knees, and Jess pounced like a cougar with lightning speed to land behind him.

She would never know how her brother wrapped his left arm around the man's neck in a strangling chokehold.

"They'll work for ya, Ebal. They'll earn their keep. But you leave my sister alone. You let my brother be. I'll come back here someday. And if I ever hear that you so much as laid one finger on 'em… I will END you. Remember that. 'Cause it ain't a threat, Ebal. It's a sworn promise."

Jess would never tell Francie how he had growled that warning in Ebal's ear, while pressing the man's own whittling knife against his throat.

What he did tell her was simple.

Still staring straight ahead, Jess's voice rumbled toneless, hard.

"He knows I mean it."