Page 60 of A Dangerous Heart
She wanted to scream. How could he want to go back to that?
She breathed in deeply, clenched her jaw, wrestled to keep her tone even. “Eli, have you forgotten what it was like back in Missouri? Remember how many times we didn’t have enough food?”
She and Anne had tried to shield the boys from the worst of it, but she would never forget the terror of those bare cupboards. Or the panic of knowing there were only a handful of bullets left. She couldn’t afford to miss her target when she hunted game.
“He was cruel to your mother when she burned some of the fish you spent all morning catching. We didn’t eat that day, remember, because your pa brought his gang to the farm.”
Clare moved her shoulder into his and looked down into his face. She could see her words had hit their mark, the way his thoughts raced behind his eyes.
His ma had also burned herself that day. The long red welt on Anne’s arm had taken weeks to heal. She’d hidden her pain and kept cooking while Victor called her unspeakable names. Clare had never heard any of the McGraw men use such language.
“Pa wants me,” Eli said stubbornly.
“What about Ben? It wasn’t that long ago he beat him, left bruises on him, because he forgot to feed the chickens first thing one morning.”
Eli’s face crumpled at that. He was so protective of his little brother.
“Ben likes it here,” she pressed.
“Ben’s a baby,” he scoffed, but she could tell he didn’t mean it.
“Eli, you have to trust me on this. We need the McGraws.”
He didn’t answer, just got up and went inside the cabin. She heard him clamber up the ladder to the loft. The floor moaned when he threw himself on the mattress. Clare heard his stifled sniffles and a shuddering breath. She wanted to hug him like she had when he was little.
She took a shaky breath, then got to work packing. In no time, her baskets and crates were stacked near the door. Maybe Isaac could use some help gathering some things from the lean-to. She’d give Eli a little time alone in the cabin.
The door was propped open. She leaned a shoulder against the door frame. Isaac looked up from the chest on the wall and cast her a grim look.
“I suppose you heard all that?” She sighed and stepped into the small space. It smelled of hay and horse and earth. A rope hung by the door on a peg, and she fingered the tightly twisted strands of twine. Her heart was still tender from seeing Eli’s hurt. “I wish my childhood had been more like yours must have been.”
He turned questioning eyes on her, his wide stance blocking the chest and the gun belt lying on the quilt like some deadly snake poised to strike.
She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My pa and Victor…and my oldest brother Billy, were gone for months at a time,leaving us at home without money or food. Have you ever been so hungry that the gnawing in your stomach never goes away?”
He shook his head. His eyes filled with compassion.
“I was a little older than Eli when Anne’s grandpa began to teach me how to hunt, fish, and grow vegetables. He stayed on the farm with us after Victor and Anne were married. I think he knew his time on this earth was running out. He and Anne showed me there was another way to live.” Clare coiled the rope in a circular motion, looping it snug against the peg.
“Grandpa Ferguson knew I would need those skills for survival after he passed. But it was hard for a young girl at first, you know, killing and dressing rabbits and such.” Revulsion churned her stomach thinking about the other things she’d been forced to do.
Isaac’s expression turned from compassion to anger. His fingers curled into a fist.
“I didn’t actually like Anne at first.” She lowered her voice, glancing at the wall that she knew was too thin for secrets.
Isaac looked surprised enough that she went on.
“She seemed like such a Goody Two-Shoes.” The confession stung a little now, and she moved to the end of the cot, where an extra quilt was unfolded and had been thrown half off the bed. It was easier to remember if she had something to keep her hands busy. “All these rules. No lying. No stealing.”
When Anne had caught Clare with a chicken she’d butchered after stealing it from a neighbor, there’d been no punishment or shouts. Only a disappointment that had somehow stung worse.
“Once I started to see her in a new light, I didn’t think she’d want to know me if she knew the things I’d done for my pa and for Victor.”
It had taken weeks of chores together, of Anne’s gentle nature and patience, to break through the walls that Clare had built to protect herself.
“She taught me about true forgiveness. About real love.”
Anne had had such a pure heart. Clare still couldn’t understand how she’d fallen for Victor—cruel, heartless Victor. But after Eli had come, Anne was trapped in the marriage, and they’d all known it.
