Sins of Summer Read Free

I’ve tasted better bread,” Ben said.
    “Could be you’re just hungry,” Dory replied. “My mother was the best bread maker in the territory. She claimed the secret
     to making good bread was to dissolve the yeast in potato water. In the winter she’d load a dishpan full of warm bread and
     take it to the cutters up in the woods. Before they started the winter cut they would make sure a path was cleared for the
     sleigh. Sometimes, even then, Mama had to walk a mile through deep snow. She loved the woods and—”
    Her voice trailed when she realized she had been chattering like a magpie. Weeks went by when the only adult conversation
     she had was with old Wiley in the bunkhouse and an occasional grunt from her brothers, who took turns coming back to the homestead
     on Sunday.
    Ben liked sitting across the table from the woman, listening to her voice. He sensed her loneliness. He was strangely comfortable
     with her, although he could feel the sharp edge of her curiosity about him and Odette.
    Silence, broken only by the child’s chatter, stretched while they finished off most of a loaf of bread. Then the thump of
     heavy boots came from the porch, followed immediately by the opening of the door.
    The man who stood in the doorway looked down the table at Ben, then advanced a step into the room and slammed the door shut
     behind him. He was a big, deep-chested man wearing the clothing of a logger: pant legs stuffed into the tops of his boots,
     a mackinaw, and a wool cap. Snow lay on his shoulders and clung to his wiry beard. He took another step, his eyes, hard and
     piercing, holding on Ben.
    “Who the hell are you and what’er you doin’ in my house?”

CHAPTER
* 2 *
    The greeting was as shocking to Ben as a splash of cold water. A chill crawled over his skin, but he met the man’s angry gaze
     without a flicker of the emotion that tensed every nerve inside him. He pushed himself away from the table and stood.
    “For God’s sake, Louis! He’s the man you sent for,” Dory said before Ben could speak.
    “Benton Waller?”
    “Yes,” Ben said. “I wrote that I’d be here between the tenth—”
    “—And… the fifteenth.” Louis rudely interrupted. He threw angry, suspicious words at his sister. “What’s he doing in here?”
    “I invited him in.” Dory stood, her face red with anger and embarrassment.
    “Hired hands are not invited into
my
house,” Louis shouted.
    “Your
house?” Dory retorted, her voice low and quivery. “One fourth of this house is mine and I’ll invite in who I please. Nothing
     in Papa’s will gives you the right to say who comes in and who does not.”
    “I’m head of this family. You’ll do as I say, or—”
    “Or what, brother dear? James won’t let you throw me out. We’re two against two.”
    “That don’t mean shit!”
    “You’re back a day early,” Dory said lightly, then added with heavy sarcasm, “Did you hope to catch me having a high old time
     with old Wiley?”
    “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had a high old time,” he sneered.
    “You’re pitiful, Louis. Mean-minded and pitiful.”
    “Thank you for the coffee and bread, ma’am.” Ben felt an acute dislike for Louis Callahan, and the need to leave before his
     fist connected with the man’s face. He reached the coat rack in two strides and unhooked Odette’s coat as well as his own.
    Odette followed Ben and stood close beside him. She could tell by his movements and his facial expression that he was angry.
     Something had gone wrong. Something Ben would tell her about later.
    Louis seemed to notice Odette for the first time. “Who’s this?”
    “His daughter, you stupid, bull-headed dolt. You didn’t tell the man he would have to share quarters with twenty or more horny
     timber beasts.”
    “Stay out of this,” he snarled. “This is company business.”
    “I’ve got a one-fourth say.”
    “You got nothin’ to say. He should’ve told me he was bringin’