Nobody's Child Read Free Page A

shoulder as her aunt clung to her, a prolonged hug that cried out, “Please, let me stay.”
    The moment wouldn’t last. Preacher said something to Uncle Jack that she couldn’t hear. His countenance soured and he dropped a rock, then stormed through the fence gate, headed straight for Auntie Rose. As he approached, a quiet young man to Laura Ann’s left stepped forward, planting himself in Uncle Jack’s way.
    â€œYou’re not on duty, Ian,” Uncle Jack said.
    Ian locked eyes with Uncle Jack. “Far as you’re concerned, I am. Don’t try something you’d regret, Mr. Harris.”
    Laura Ann could see the pulse pounding in Ian’s neck, only a few feet away. Yet he seemed so calm, an impenetrable barrier between Auntie Rose and her thundering husband. How many years had she watched him stand up for underdogs in class or in town? Now her friend stood up for Auntie Rose. And for
her.
    Lowering his gaze, face red, Uncle Jack spun about, kicking at the air, then walked straight to his car. He lingered at the driver’s door, half-open, nearly yelling his next words. “It’s a sad day, Preacher, when a husband’s authority is undermined this way. Don’t you think?”
    Laura Ann watched Preacher’s head bob up and down. Muffled by the closed door of the car, only one word stood out. “Sad.”
    Jack took his seat in the car. Moments later, the horn blared—Jack’s first line of defense when he didn’t get his way.
    â€œLet him go,” Laura Ann begged. “I’ll drive you home later.”
    â€œYou know Jack,” Auntie Rose replied with a sniffle, dabbing her nose with a crumpled napkin. She smiled a pasted-on “See? I’m happy!” resignation that Laura Ann often saw below a bloodied cheek or swollen eye.
    â€œYou don’t have to leave, Auntie Rose. This is your home too. Please. Stay a while.”
    Rose shook her head. Her chin quivering, she pushed away. She squeezed the hands of the Culpepers, and Ian, the young lawman who’d taken a stand. The shake of her head as she left screamed stories of suffering, of betrayal and abuse.
    The car door slammed behind her, and chunks of slag flew out from behind Uncle Jack’s wheels when he spun away. Pamela put an arm around Laura Ann as they watched the sedan make its way across the pasture and up a frozen hill in the darkness.
    Ian turned to face them as a sense of calm returned. “I’m sorry it came to this, Laura Ann. You didn’t deserve that. Especially not today.”
    â€œI’m not sorry,” she replied. “You saw my life for what it is. All of you did. But thanks for stepping in.”
    She caught Ian’s eye, and he nodded, with the hint of a smile. “Call me if you need anything. Promise?” His eyes spoke words of comfort he’d left unsaid.
    â€œI will,” she replied.
    Ian’s smile faded with his next words. “Now that your dad’s not here to stand up for her, I’m afraid Rose won’t have a day of peace.”
    Laura Ann folded her arms against the chill and turned to watch the last glimmer of red lights heading over the ridge. “No.” She shook her head. “She won’t. And neither will I.”
    D ECEMBER 25
    Cows’ breath fogged the air inside the barn where the big creatures pushed their heads into feed stalls, maneuvering for first position to reach Laura Ann and a fresh flake of hay. Oblivious to her pain, two-dozen Black Angus woke to a new day like they did every winter morn, pushing and shoving for their five a.m. feed. Warm breath spewed damp clouds in the bitter cold predawn air of Christmas Day.
    Laura Ann took her time as she tore at the hay from her perch above the cattle in the loft, holding each section of the bale to her face before she dropped it to hungry beasts. She breathed in memories of summer. Clover, dried in crisp pale-green shamrocks,