Dorothy Garlock by Homeplace Read Free Book Online Page A

as she did. Owen rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands hanging between his knees, his head down, as if he wished he were anywhere but where he was. The lamplight shone on the top of his head where a few silver threads were mixed with the brown.
    “She’s going to die,” Ana said tersely. “I’ve done everything I know to do to stop the bleeding, but it isn’t enough.”
    Owen’s eyes moved over Harriet’s quiet face. “Poor little thing,” he whispered sadly.
    The words so shocked and angered Ana that she was up and out of the chair before she realized it.
    “It’s too late for that now. You should have thought of it when you came to Dubuque. Harriet said she had met a
man.
A real man would have never taken his pleasure of an innocent fifteen-year-old girl and left her to face the consequences. I bet you were surprised when she showed up here.” Ana drew a quick hurtful breath. “If she’d only have told me, I would have taken her away somewhere and taken care of her. She was wrong to give in to you, but she shouldn’t have to die for it.” Angry tears streamed down Ana’s cheeks. “Were you so angry that she found you that you worked her to death?”
    Owen looked up as if startled, his heavy brows drawn together in a deep frown. He held her angry gaze with his for a long while. The silence between them seemed to crackle.
    “You’re not entirely without blame, madam. You should have kept her off the street.”
    He got to his feet and left the room without giving Ana a chance to reply. She sank back down in the chair, tears blurring her eyes. She picked up Harriet’s hand and held it between her own. A rooster crowed in the barnyard below, announcing the coming of dawn. Time passed and a faint light came in through the east window.
    Owen came silently into the room. “I’ve sent Uncle Gus for the minister. They should be here anytime now.”
    “Did you and Harriet go to the church in White Oak?”
    “She did once or twice.”
    “But you didn’t.”
    “No.” He stood looking down at the baby. “He’ll have to be fed. The minister’s wife will bring a bottle and nipple if she has one to spare.”
    “Aren’t you asking a lot of them if you don’t even go to their church?” Ana asked.
    “Maybe.” He sat down and ran an agitated hand through his hair, disturbing the lock that had fallen over his forehead. “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.
    “Twenty-six,” she answered before she thought. “Twenty-six, not fifteen. How old are you?”
    “Twenty-nine.”
    The cold hostility on her face discouraged Owen from asking anything more. He knew she was worn out. There were deep shadows beneath her eyes and lines of fatigue around her mouth. Her eyes were on her daughter’s face, her expression bleak. Owen thought he had never seen a sadder face, or a lovelier one.
    Time passed slowly. The house was so quiet that Owen could hear the timbers creak and the mice scamper around in the attic.
    Ana held Harriet’s hand and gazed at her face. She continued to look at her while seconds turned into minutes, minutes into timeless silence. Her brain knew that Harriet was no longer with her, but her mind refused to accept it. When it did, a keening groan escaped her, and she fell to her knees beside the bed.
    Silent tears rolled from her amber eyes and fell on the hand she held clasped in hers. She wept for the young girl taken before she could really taste life; she wept for a baby who would never look on its mother’s face, and she wept for herself, now alone except for the small mite who lay beside his lifeless mother.
    Ana felt a hand on her shoulder. She had not been aware that Owen had left his chair and had come to stand beside her. Feeling empty and a little mad with grief, she leaned over and kissed Harriet on the cheek.
    “Good-bye, honey,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of your baby. I swear it.” She picked up the child and moved away from the