Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
How long could Ned evade courting without raising eyebrows? His heart might have been made of stone, but marriage and children were part of the natural course of life. What was the alternative?
Men who couldn’t find a suitable match often sought solace in saloons and brothels, and those who refused such comforts gradually turned into misers or grew wild without a woman to bring civilization into their homes.
Trappers and other mountain men came to town sometimes to sell the fruits of their labour, and many of them were nothing like normal folk. They grew strange and beastly. Spoke little and didn’t care much for personal hygiene. There was relief in not having to follow rules of society, and Ned thoroughly enjoyed being on his own in the wilderness foraging, hunting, or sleeping under the sky when on errands for his uncle. But even when he was away for several days at a time, without a soul to speak to, the fact that there was a home waiting for him remained at the back of his mind. Living like a stray dog was something else altogether, and he wasn’t surprised it turned men feral.
Aunt Muriel cleared her throat and spoke in a hushed tone. “You wouldn’t have to visit the saloon for what a wife offers at home for free.”
Ned clenched his fingers around the grinder’s handle when heat flushed his face with the force of July sunshine. “I’ll speak to the new neighbors,” he said, to end this conversation faster. Pious and conservative, Aunt Muriel wasn’t the kind of person to bring up women of ill-repute, but she treated their existence as a fact of life and if he were to tell her the truth—that he’d never committed the sin she was alluding to, she’d have taken it for a lie.
A door opened somewhere in the house, and soon heavy footsteps accompanied by the jingle of spurs headed for the kitchen.
“Darlin’,” Uncle Liam said, pulling his hat off as he greeted his wife with a nod, standing just beyond the threshold, to avoid bringing in outside dirt.
Aunt Muriel’s hands dropped, and she inhaled a gulp of air. “Do you know anything else about the… accident outside the ranch?”
She wasn’t keen on calling things what they were when violence was involved, but Ned’s stomach dropped too when he met Uncle Liam’s gaze. His red brows were heavy, as if weighed down by too many worries, and the fact that he hadn’t yet taken off his dusty coat or dropped the large duffel bag hung over his shoulder meant he didn’t intend to stay.
He offered his wife a pale smile and pushed back his greying hair. “It’s nothing. Nothing you should be worried about. Can you spare Ned?”
She glanced to the grinder but nodded. “Go ahead, Ned. I’m sure you have important matters to discuss with your uncle.”
Ned promised to be back later, but then followed his uncle with a sense of unease.
He missed the warmth of the kitchen as soon as the wind outside slid its cool fingers under his shirt. Since he didn’t know where they were headed, he donned his buckskin jacket and hat before leaving the house. He half-expected Uncle Liam to spin around and tell him what part in protecting the ranch Ned was to play, but the farther away they walked from the house, past the stable and toward the grazing area, the stiffer Ned’s muscles became.
He itched to ask what this was about, but the wind that kept trying to knock his hat off would have dulled words anyway, so he followed his uncle’s lead, eyes pinned to the rosy back of the man’s neck.
It was only once they approached the barbed wire fence keeping the cattle from running off that he noticed the root of the problem and exhaled with relief. Two of the wooden stakes installed along the perimeter of the pasture were crooked and might encourage bravado in some of the cows.
“I’ll take the left one?” he asked, somewhat surprised that Uncle Liam chose him for the job. Owen and Neal were the ones to look after all the cattle enclosures, but maybe they’d been called into town because of the murder?
Uncle Liam nodded and handed him a wooden mallet. “Careful with them spikes,” he said as Ned positioned the crooked pole, but he didn’t sound concerned and watched the herd scattered between two hills.
Ned didn’t need his participation. His uncle and aunt never starved him, and he’d grown strong enough to deal with the repair in less than ten minutes, compressing the dirt around the stakes with one boot for good measure.
“There, all sturdy again,” Ned said, offering Uncle Liam a smile that wasn’t reciprocated.
Ned’s heart sped up when he met his uncle’s blue gaze. The tension in the air was sharper than the barbs, but Uncle Liam eventually dove into his pocket to produce cigarettes and matches. “Care for one?” he asked, turning away from the wind.