Page 19 of The Gift of Seeds
Dale glanced down at the pup. Discovered with a dog indoors. Oh, he was in big trouble!
Clarise sent him a gloating smile, and then whirled and raced off in the direction of the front veranda.
His stomach cramped, and he backtracked to escape the house and hide in the stables. He squeezed the dog so hard, the pup wiggled, and Dale almost dropped her. He had to slow down to reposition her against his chest.
His mother caught up to him in the back yard, marching toward him with her blue chiffon skirts fluttering, her beautiful face distorted with ire. She carried one of the many riding whips she’d stashed around the house to grab and hit whoeverangered her, mostly Dale, but occasionally one of his sisters (although not Clarise) or a hapless servant.
She grabbed Dale’s shoulder with one hand, and, with the other, shook the whip under his nose. “How dare you! A filthy animal in the house. We’ll have fleas.”
The puppy cringed, and Dale would have done likewise if not for his mother’s crab-claw grip bruising his shoulder. “I never set her down,” he stammered. “Really, I didn’t.”
With a disgusted look, she stared toward the stables, where John Coachman sat on a bench near the wide door, polishing harness. “John Coachman, get over here,” she yelled, thrusting Dale around to face the man. “Take that creature and drown it.”
Dale twisted to look back at his mother. He knew it was useless to beg, but for the pup’s life, he had to. “No, Mama. Please. Just let her go.” Despite his care to hold back, a sob slipped out.
She held up the whip as if to smack his face. “Don’t you cry, or I’ll really give you something to cry about.”
Dale nodded sharply, holding back his tears as best he could. But he could feel them about to burst forth. He’d really get the whip then. His mother believed if she disciplined him enough, he’d toughen up.
“Why must my only son be such a sniveling weakling!” She sent a sharp whip smack to the back of his leg but, luckily for Dale, she turned and marched back inside without inflicting more lashes.
The blow stung. But not as much as his pain about the dog.Her death is all my fault.
Dale knew he needed to run, to get out of ear-and-eyeshot lest his sobs erupt. But before he could take a step, John Coachman glanced furtively around and then took him by the arm.
Tears flooded. Ashamed, he tried to pull away.
The man held on and gently guided him around the corner of the stables and out of sight of the house. He placed a hand on Dale’s shoulders and bent close. “Now, now, Sonny,” he said in a gruff voice. “I won’t be drowning this dog. Yah have my word on that.”
“But…” Dale stuttered, not believing anyone would dare defy his mother.
“I’ll keep the pup. Take care of her.” He straightened and rubbed a leathery hand over Dale’s head, tousling his hair. “So, no need to fret, eh?”
Affection was rare in Dale’s life, and the coachman’s rough caress provided a small amount of balm to his hurting heart.
“Maybe sometimes, on my day off, you can sneak a visit to the pup, eh?”
Dale nodded vigorously and scrubbed the wetness from his face.
“Mrs. Marsden, that is, the senior-senior Mrs. Marsden, will be here in a couple of weeks. I’ll be picking her up from the train myself. She’s a kind lady, your great-grams. Not like that clutch of raptors you’re surrounded by. You stick close to her.” He held up an admonishing finger. “Mind, you don’t be repeating I said that. Cost me my job, you will.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The man tucked the dog under one arm and jerked a thumb in the direction of the house. “Go on, then. I’ve got to get this un home to my missus. She’s been a-pining since our old hound died. Wanted another. But I t’weren’t ready. Hurts something awful when you lose ’em. She’ll be right glad to welcome this one home.” He winked at Dale. “She might even hug me, and then buss me right there.” He tapped the side of his cheek with one finger and made a smacking kiss sound. “What do you think?”
That wink pulled a little levity out of Dale, and, with his index fingers, he tapped his own cheeks.
“Two, eh? I’ll be a lucky man.” John Coachman chuckled and set off down the drive.
Dale watched until the man was out of sight. How he longed to go along—to live with John Coachman and his missus. A family who loved dogs and laughed and gave hugs and kisses, surely would be kind to a boy.
Dale awoke in the dark, his heart aching for the loving family he never had.I’m forty-six years old, and yet that hurting boy still resides inside me.He stared into the night, his chest heavy.
With a sigh, Dale made himself turn over.Probably always will.
CHAPTER 7
The next day, having left Lucy in the back yard with the bone, Hester walked to town at an unhurried pace.The better to view my new surroundings, she told herself. But really to postpone the time when she’d have to deal with the Cobbs.
