everything else might be bearable.
With his head bent low as he remembered all the painful scenes from his brief past, Pete barreled down the alley back of Silverâs saloon. His shoeless feet were blotched and streaked from the loose dirt on the road as he plunged ahead, unseeing.
Feeling a heavy thud as he collided with a solid object, the boy reeled. Then he was abruptly aware that he had brought a pedestrian to the ground. The manâs muttered epithets sounded familiar, and Pete found himself staring down into the dull pewter eyes of Edward Malvers.
âUncle Ed!â he gasped, shocked, as he hastily palm-brushed the settling dust from his relativeâs rumpled clothes. âGosh, Iâm sorry! I didnât mean to knock you down. I didnât even see you coming.â
âThat you, Buckshot?â The man looked up, bleary-eyed.
He tossed his long, unkempt gray hair out of his elephant-hide face. âConsarn it, boy, where was you off to at such a clip? I thought I was bowled over by a runaway steer.â
âI donât know where I was goinâ, really.â His thin face went bright red. âI was thinking to find you, I guess, and Iâm supposed to be at the woodshed. Findinâ a board for that son-of-a-bitch to whale me with.â
Malvers shook his rubbery cheeks in what seemed like sternness. âNow, look, Buck. Donât you never insult a manâs parentage like that. I know old Geraldâs no good for you, and I also know he ainât half the man your daddy was. But thatâs still no way to talk.â
âYes, sir.â Pete hung his head while his uncle maneuvered unsteadily to his feet.
Edward, obviously, was still a mite tipsy from the heady Silver Special Brew heâd been downing all afternoon. âBest tell me what you and him are on the outs over this time, Buckshot.â
âAll I did was slide down Curl-toesâs haystack. I know it was wrong. But, Unc, Hammâs goinâ to whip me with a piece of wood! He told me to go pick it out, myself.â
The desperate glitter in his blue eyes was enough to break Edâs heart as the boy took a deep breath and plunged on.
âCanât I come and live with you, Unc? Things just ainât the same at home since Pa died and Ma got herself hitched to thatâthat...â Peteâs whole body went rigid as he clenched his fists and steeled himself against the words he wanted to shout.
âNo, you know you canât. Why, your Ma wouldnât let you! She says I drink too much.â
A sad, faraway look lightened his eyes. âAnd Buck, Iâm afraid sheâs not full wrong. It wouldnât be no life for you a-tall.â
âWell, then,â Pete demanded, his chin trembling, âwhat should I do now? About the lickinâ?â
Edâs voice went as soft as the rest of him felt. Putting an arm across his nephewâs shoulders he advised, âIf I was you, Iâd just try to take my medicine like a man and get it all over with. Only, next time, try to keep out of Hammâs way and donât get ketched.â
âYes, sir,â Pete said grimly, standing as tall as possible. âI guess I can handle anything that land pirate gives out.â
âLand pirate?â Malvers blinked. âWhere in tarnation did you get that one? I sure as hell never heard it before.â
Pete smiled proudly. âNever got it from nobody. I made it up. See, at school once, the teacher gave me this book about pirates. One of âem was called Bluebeard. He went all over the ocean in a big boat, just takinâ whatever he wanted from other people. Donât Hamm do that? Just takes and never gives? Well, donât that make him a land pirate?â
Ed shook his head. How could he argue with Peteâs logic? Anyway, heâd rather the boy called his stepfather a land pirate than a son-of-a-bitch. Although, come to think of it, they both
Sandra Mohr Jane Velez-Mitchell