blazing with fury.
“How dare you!” she demanded, but the marshal only met her gaze with a calm he had practiced for years.
“You came to me for advice, Miss Edna,” he said, “I’m giving it to you. I know you resent suddenly having a child in your home. You’re used to having Diana’s attention all to yourself, and now you won’t have that anymore. As far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to try to convince Diana to give up the child. But I wouldn’t try to take it to court, Miss Edna, Instead I’d try to get used to things the way they are.Life does not always go the way we want it to. Not even for you.”
With tension crackling between them, the marshal and the old woman silently challenged each other. In the end it was Dan Gurley who looked away, shifting his attention to the bright day outside.
“It’s summer, Miss Edna,” he said conversationally, as if a moment before he hadn’t been locked in wordless battle with her. “It’s going to be hot this year. Hot and dry. Folks are going to be edgy. Seems to me like the best thing we can all do is try to stay quiet, try to get by.”
“It’s a summer like all others, Daniel,” Edna replied. “And I intended to spend it like all others. At home, alone with my daughter. Perhaps I still shall.” She picked up her purse and left Dan Gurley’s office. He heard the door close behind her, but remained by the window until he saw her move slowly down the steps of the building and climb into her car. Only when the Cadillac had pulled away from the curb did he turn back to his empty office.
Diana led Christie into the shed above the root cellar. Lining the walls were sacks of food, and she carefully began explaining to the little girl what each of them was for, and how much of it was to be given to the chickens each day. But even as she talked, she wondered with half her mind where her mother had gone and why she had gone alone.
There had been a moment of panic when she saw the Cadillac leave the garage, but then, as Edna proceeded steadily along the road toward Amberton, the panic had lifted, leaving only a vague sense of unease.
She should have felt relieved. It had been years since her mother had gone anywhere alone, and Diana knew that she should be happy that her mother was at last doing something for herself. But deep inside, shealso knew that the reason for Edna’s trip had to do with herself. Herself and Christie.
“Do they really eat gravel?”
Christie’s question interrupted her thoughts. “It’s for their gizzards,” she explained. “They need the gravel to help them digest the seed they eat.”
“Yuck.” Christie’s face creased in disgust. She looked at the various bags, sure she would never remember what all of it was. What if she fed the chickens the wrong food? Would Diana be angry with her? She’d have to be very careful not to make a mistake. But what if she did? The question nagged at her, worried her. Life was so different now. Everything was new, and there was so much she didn’t understand. “Can’t we go see the horses now?” she begged. She understood horses and liked them a lot better than chickens.
Diana nodded and began securing the latch on the shed door. “Always be sure this door is closed tight. Chickens are stupid, but they know where their food is, and if they get in here, they’ll eat themselves to death.” Christie nodded solemnly, and they started across to the stable. “Do you know how to ride?”
Christie bobbed her head eagerly. “I took lessons in Chicago, but it was with an English saddle.”
“Then we’ll start you out with Hayburner until you get used to Western. He’s big, but he’s gentle. I think if you fell off him, he’d try to pick you up and put you back on.”
They went into the barn. In the second stall an immense dappled gray whinnied at them, his head hanging over the gate as he watched them move toward him.
“Is that him?”
“That’s him. Do you want to
“How dare you!” she demanded, but the marshal only met her gaze with a calm he had practiced for years.
“You came to me for advice, Miss Edna,” he said, “I’m giving it to you. I know you resent suddenly having a child in your home. You’re used to having Diana’s attention all to yourself, and now you won’t have that anymore. As far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to try to convince Diana to give up the child. But I wouldn’t try to take it to court, Miss Edna, Instead I’d try to get used to things the way they are.Life does not always go the way we want it to. Not even for you.”
With tension crackling between them, the marshal and the old woman silently challenged each other. In the end it was Dan Gurley who looked away, shifting his attention to the bright day outside.
“It’s summer, Miss Edna,” he said conversationally, as if a moment before he hadn’t been locked in wordless battle with her. “It’s going to be hot this year. Hot and dry. Folks are going to be edgy. Seems to me like the best thing we can all do is try to stay quiet, try to get by.”
“It’s a summer like all others, Daniel,” Edna replied. “And I intended to spend it like all others. At home, alone with my daughter. Perhaps I still shall.” She picked up her purse and left Dan Gurley’s office. He heard the door close behind her, but remained by the window until he saw her move slowly down the steps of the building and climb into her car. Only when the Cadillac had pulled away from the curb did he turn back to his empty office.
Diana led Christie into the shed above the root cellar. Lining the walls were sacks of food, and she carefully began explaining to the little girl what each of them was for, and how much of it was to be given to the chickens each day. But even as she talked, she wondered with half her mind where her mother had gone and why she had gone alone.
There had been a moment of panic when she saw the Cadillac leave the garage, but then, as Edna proceeded steadily along the road toward Amberton, the panic had lifted, leaving only a vague sense of unease.
She should have felt relieved. It had been years since her mother had gone anywhere alone, and Diana knew that she should be happy that her mother was at last doing something for herself. But deep inside, shealso knew that the reason for Edna’s trip had to do with herself. Herself and Christie.
“Do they really eat gravel?”
Christie’s question interrupted her thoughts. “It’s for their gizzards,” she explained. “They need the gravel to help them digest the seed they eat.”
“Yuck.” Christie’s face creased in disgust. She looked at the various bags, sure she would never remember what all of it was. What if she fed the chickens the wrong food? Would Diana be angry with her? She’d have to be very careful not to make a mistake. But what if she did? The question nagged at her, worried her. Life was so different now. Everything was new, and there was so much she didn’t understand. “Can’t we go see the horses now?” she begged. She understood horses and liked them a lot better than chickens.
Diana nodded and began securing the latch on the shed door. “Always be sure this door is closed tight. Chickens are stupid, but they know where their food is, and if they get in here, they’ll eat themselves to death.” Christie nodded solemnly, and they started across to the stable. “Do you know how to ride?”
Christie bobbed her head eagerly. “I took lessons in Chicago, but it was with an English saddle.”
“Then we’ll start you out with Hayburner until you get used to Western. He’s big, but he’s gentle. I think if you fell off him, he’d try to pick you up and put you back on.”
They went into the barn. In the second stall an immense dappled gray whinnied at them, his head hanging over the gate as he watched them move toward him.
“Is that him?”
“That’s him. Do you want to
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