Dakota Child. Linda Ford

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СКАЧАТЬ back. Ma, Ma…”

      But whatever he meant to say was drowned by an ear-splitting scream.

      Vivian jerked to her feet and spun around.

      A woman swaddled in a bulky woolen coat and hat faced her, a bucket of frothy milk in one hand. The woman put the pail on the floor, yanked her hat off and rubbed her pale hair into wild disarray, all the time making the sound of a cat with its tail slammed in the door.

      Bony fingers of fear dug into Vivian’s scalp. She tried to back up but ran into the stool she’d used a few minutes earlier for changing the baby. The fireplace blocked her retreat to her left; the big man blocked her right.

      The screeching woman stopped to suck in air.

      “Ma, I found them in the storm. I couldn’t leave them to freeze.”

      The woman scrubbed her hands over her hair again until it was a cloud of faded blond tangles. “Nobody comes here. Nobody.” Her voice shivered along Vivian’s nerves.

      Vivian’s jaw dropped. Although she hadn’t seen this woman or her son in eight years, she knew who they were.

      Mad Mrs. Black.

      And her son, Big Billy.

      Everyone was terrified of the pair. Rumors said they turned wild after being captives of Indians for years. Vivian scrambled to remember what she knew or heard. But it was just before her own disaster. Seems she’d misplaced bits of her memory along with losing her parents and home. About all she knew was she couldn’t have landed in a worse situation.

      She clutched the baby to her chest and prayed to be able to save him from this savage pair.

      Chapter Two

      He saw the way she jolted. Knew she’d figured out who they were. Knew, too, what direction her thoughts took. He’d heard the comments often enough, seen hands raised to mouths to unsuccessfully hide a whisper. Everyone thought the Blacks were mad and dangerous. He’d long ago given up trying to prove otherwise, no longer cared what people thought so long as they left him and Ma alone. Though, if he could convince just one person it wasn’t true, it would be the woman standing wide-eyed with fear not inches from his elbow.

      But he didn’t have time to deal with that right now. Ma was about to explode before his very eyes. She didn’t handle strangers well, never let anyone in her house.

      Ma choked off another screech, sent Vivian another fear-filled look, then glared at Billy. “Why’d you bring her?” She poked her mittened hand toward the woman as if she could drive her away. “Get out.”

      “Ma, it’s okay. It’s only until the storm lets up.”

      He couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t go from an ordinary housewife to this raving creature when anything upset her routine, though he guessed before she’d been captured by Indians, she’d been perfectly normal. However, he was too young at the time to remember.

      Ma cranked around.

      Sensing her intention, Billy strode for the door. Only the fact she struggled with the latch allowed him to get there before she opened it. He took her hands. “Ma, what are you doing?”

      “Let me go.” Her voice was thin and high-pitched.

      “Ma, you can’t go out. It’s storming.” He took her restless hands, guided her to the kitchen area and pulled out a chair. He tried to ease her down, persisting until she gave in and sat. As soon as he released her, she jerked the chair around so she gave her back to the woman.

      Ma hadn’t even glanced at the baby. Maybe if she did…For some unknown reason, he wanted Ma and Vivian to be friends. A little jeering finger jabbed inside his thoughts. In a mocking voice, it insisted Billy knew the reason. But Billy had grown very good at ignoring things he couldn’t do anything about, and he shut out the voice.

      “Ma, there’s a tiny baby. You want to see him?”

      For answer, she started to rock.

      He took that for no. For himself, he could barely take his eyes off the little critter. He’d nursed every kind of baby animal—kittens, puppies, a fawn, several kinds of birds, the usual calves and colts. But he’d never seen a bitty-sized human. Tiny little fingers and toes, a kiss of a mouth, ears that folded like spring buds, legs no bigger than his little finger. New life was such a miracle of God’s powerful love and creative power. But this replica of humanity took his breath away. Everything in perfect tiny detail. He knew a protectiveness stronger than he’d ever known before. He thought of the few minutes when he’d held Vivian in his arms, plowing through the storm toward home. He hadn’t known it was her until he dropped her in the chair but he remembered the almost nothingness weight of her, the way she had fought so bravely and then the sweetness of her head pressed to the hollow of his shoulder as she huddled against the cold. He curled his fists. He was being fanciful and tried to remember how to push his thoughts beyond acknowledgment.

      It took a few seconds for him to succeed, then he shifted his attention to Vivian. He liked the way she cradled the baby to her, though perhaps as much out of fear as any other reason. Everyone was afraid of the Blacks.

      However, good or bad, she was stuck here until the storm ended. Just as Ma was stuck with the uninvited pair.

      “I guess you figured out who we are.” Seeing her again made him wish for a heartbeat his life was different. Only half a heartbeat, really.

      The woman nodded. “I remember you from school.”

      “Didn’t know if you’d recall.” He’d gone to school less than two weeks before he figured out he wasn’t exactly welcome. He recalled only one person who had treated him kindly. He’d almost decided to continue to face his tormentors in order to see her—Vivian Halliday. Looks to be she was now other than Halliday. Married with a baby. With a practiced hand, he pushed aside any hint of regret. He only hoped she was happy.

      “You’re Billy Black.”

      “Huh.” He was surprised she didn’t call him Big Billy Black. It was the only way he’d ever heard his name said in town.

      “You probably don’t remember me. I was barely twelve last time I was in Quinten. Vivian Halliday.”

      She’d called herself Halliday. Perhaps an unconscious slip of the tongue.

      “I remember.” He’d recognized her the instant her eyelids snapped open and he looked into coffee-brown eyes revealing fear, and lots more besides. He saw flickers of the determination and gentleness he remembered from school. How often he’d thought of her and wondered how she fared.

      He hadn’t even realized she was gone at first, though he wondered that he never managed to glimpse her. ’Course, he avoided town as carefully as he avoided crossing paths with a skunk. Only necessity drove him to venture in by way of alleys.

      It was Lucas, the man at the general store, who served him at the back door, who told him of the Halliday’s misfortune.

      “Mr. and Mrs. Halliday were among those who died in the flu epidemic. Their daughter went to an orphanage.”

      Remembering what happened to Vivian, СКАЧАТЬ