Welcome to Tuesday Tales- this week's word is GREAT
This is my work in progress- Patrick the mountain man has saved Samantha from the bitter cold and he has just discovered a young boy----
Samantha grabbed a tin plate and ladled some of the
venison stew on it. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered. Her clothes were
still damp so she grabbed one of Patrick’s shirts and put it on. It was huge on
her. She rolled up the sleeves and laughed when she saw it practically hung to
her feet.
Thankful for the food, she soon ate her fill. She’d
be dead if not for the mountain man. He didn’t seem to be one to smile often,
but he hadn’t tried to have his way with her either. Opening the door, she was
immediately pushed back by the intense wind. It was a struggle to close the
door. Hopefully Patrick wasn’t too far away.
Her hands and feet still hurt but not as much as the
first time, she woke. It was a good sign. Patrick must get supplies somewhere.
The nearest town couldn’t be too far away. As soon as the storm stopped, she’d
be on her way. She hadn’t quite figured out what she’d do once she got to town
but she was sure there must be a kindly pastor and his wife to take her in for
a bit.
Sitting at the table, she stared at the great food
still in her bowl. Wild onions, potatoes, and meat were a treat. It seemed to
be forever since she’d had enough to eat. Supplies on the wagon train were
rationed and the hope for hunting quickly dimmed as the hunters returned day
after day without food.
She took her last bite when the door blew open with
a bang. Patrick stood in the doorway, carrying a child and glaring at her. “I
found your child. I’ve heard about bad mothers but dang it you are as cold
hearted as they come. Why no mention of your son? You left him out there to
die!”
Quickly standing she backed up. “That is not my boy.
I’ve never been married.”
“Aha! So, the real skinny is coming to light. What
happened the rest of the pious folks on the wagon train found out you have a
bastard and threw you out? Did you figure you’d be better off without proof of
your sins?”
The back of her legs hit the bed and she immediately
sat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That child needs tending. Bring
him here.”
“What’s his name?” he asked as he laid him on the
bed.
“How would I know?” She was glad her irritation
echoed in her voice. The mountain man was pure loco.
“You plan to play out your lies? Your heart must be
iced over.”
“He is not my child.” She began to undress him and
gasped. His bones were visible and he had more than a few bruises on him.”
Patrick gaffed. “I wouldn’t want to admit to the
treatment of the boy either.”
It was getting nearly impossible to keep her temper
reined in.
“Could you get me some warm water and a bit of muslin if you have
it. I’d like to wash him off a bit.”
He didn’t say a word; he just did as she asked. He
watched as she tenderly wiped the dirt away from the boy.
“From his thinness I’d say he’d been on his own for
more than a few weeks. How old do you think he is?”
“He’s puny enough to pass for three but I reckon
he’s at least four or so. He was smart enough to hide in my hay.”
Samantha nodded. It didn’t matter what Patrick
thought, she needed to tend to the boy. Someone out there was missing a child
and must be either heartbroken or dead. These mountains were unforgiving. She
briefly wondered how the people on the wagon train were fairing but dismissed
them fast enough. They probably weren’t wondering about her.
As soon as the boy was washed, she tucked him into
the massive bed. His eyes opened and he smiled. “Mommy?”
Before she could utter a word, Patrick sat on the
edge of the bed. “You’re fine now, lad. Your ma is right here. No more
worries.”
The boy nodded and instantly fell back to sleep.
Patrick stood and crossed his arms in front of him.
His expression was thunderous. “Lies upon lies. If the wind wasn’t howling like
a banshee, I’d put you out. Children are innocents and no matter how they came
into the world they deserve the same love as any other child.”
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. What
was there to say? He didn’t believe one word she said. Why the child called her
mommy was a mystery but they did have the same coloring. His ma was probably
blonde too. She’d lived a good an honest and respectable life. She obeyed her
parents and tried to do what was right. Maybe it was all for naught. Patrick
didn’t care, he already judged her immoral.
“I hope his parents are alive somewhere and we can
reunite them.”
He laughed mockingly and shook his head. “Still
insisting he’s not yours huh? He did call you mommy. I think it’s proof enough.
You can stop with your untruths now.”
She gave him a sad smile, walked by him, and grabbed
one of the chairs. She put it closer to the fireplace and sat down. Maybe the
storm would be over soon.
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