Lone Star Loving by Martha Hix Read Free Book Online

promised a daughter t’ that Indian lad up in the territory.”
    Charity’s ears pricked up, and she abandoned the wooden puzzle that had kept her occupied since supper. Her sisters stopped stringing popcorn to look at each other, then at Charity. Over and again, the triplets had heard this tale. And they had always been interested in it. Well, Margaret wasn’t all that interested; she reverted to stringing.
    Lisette placed a candle on a cedar bough. “I didn’t promise a daughter to David Fierce Hawk.”
    Small fists covering their mouths, Olga and Charity giggled. Olga then reached for little Angus, who cuddled against his sweet sister. Charity, never one to keep her mouth shut, implored, “Tell us more about the Osage boy, Mutti.”
    â€œShut up, triplet.” Margaret pushed the needle through a kernel of popped corn. “You talk too much.”
    â€œDo not!”
    â€œYes, you do.”
    Charity wanted to cry; she loved Margaret and longed for her approval. But instead of crying, she balled her fist, boxed Margaret’s shoulder, and hissed through a half-grown-in front tooth, “I hope you catch smallpox and die, like Aunt Monika did.”
    This sent Margaret crying. And Charity felt awful, for her mother went white. Uncle Adolf’s wife hadn’t been the only one to die last spring. So had Charity’s three-year-old brother, Gilliegorm. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to apologize to either her mother or her sister.
    â€œCharity, you aren’t very nice,” Olga interjected.
    â€œI’m nicer than you are.” She forced a smirk at her nearsighted sister. “And at least I can see out of my two eyes!”
    â€œGirls, hush.” Collected, Lisette moved over to the table that held a punch bowl of spiked eggnog, then filled a cup that she handed to Maisie. She received a pat on the hand and a smile in return. “Fierce Hawk is a splendid Indian boy. I use the word Indian loosely, since his mother is white. And his father’s mother is half white. That makes him one-fourth Indian, doesn’t it?”
    The brainiest of the triplets, now fully recovered from her bawling fit, piped up. “It does.”
    â€œThank you, Margaret. I’m pleased you studied your sums.”
    Charity shrank a bit at her mother’s remark. Everybody in the whole world knew that Charity McLoughlin was stupid at sums. But she wished her mother would say something nice about her.
    Lisette settled into a chair and tucked her long legs beneath her. Sipping eggnog, she said to Maisie, “I wonder what’s happened to Fierce Hawk. Gil hasn’t encountered the Osage tribe since our trip to Kansas in ’69.”
    â€œ ’Tis too bad ye havena made the trip again, lass.”
    â€œI’ve small children, Maisie.”
    â€œBut I wooud be happy t’ look out for them.”
    â€œI know, dear one, but Gil says this is his last trip as trail boss. We’re set for life, he wants to spend more time with the family, and he’s looking to explore political possi–”
    â€œWe don’t wanna hear about any old cattle drives,” Charity broke in. “We wanna hear about Fierce Hawk.”
    Olga pleaded, “Oh, Mutti, do tell us.”
    â€œAll right.” Lisette smiled. “Fierce Hawk was such an interesting boy. I’ll wager he’s learned to read by now.”
    â€œI like to read.”
    â€œOh, Charity, shut your trap.” Margaret took a sip of fruit juice. “You never let anyone else do the talking.”
    Olga’s weak eyes tried to focus on their mother. “Mutti, what about the part where he wanted to marry your daughter?”
    Lisette scoffed. “Those were the words of the moment. I’m sure he’s forgotten them by now.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t forget them. He’s an Indian. And Indians are good for their word. You said so, Mutti.”
    â€œYou