Saving Grace (The Grace Series Book 2) by Elizabeth Courtright Read Free Book Online Page A

Thereafter, William Hughes joined them. The small party had been celebrating long enough to have downed several shots when a blast of cold air caught them up. The tavern door swung inward and Trent Emerson stormed through it. For a second he stood there, squinting in the dim light. Upon spotting them, he strode over and grabbed the chair between his father and Whistler.
    “We didn’t think you were gonna join us tonight.” Jon’s words were already slurred. He picked up a bottle—one of the two on the table that wasn’t empty—and splashed its murky liquid into a glass. Trent caught the glass before it tipped over an uneven plank in the table top. In one swallow he downed the shot, then slid the glass back toward Jon for second round.
    “Uh oh,” Luther chortled. “Trent’s in a foul mood. Watch out!”
    “What Bellows did tonight was wrong!” Trent spat. “He was just a little boy, a harmless child!”
    “Still a nigger,” Jon sniggered.
    Whistler guffawed. “Don’t matter how old they are. They still make the world stink.”
    “The only good nigger is a dead nigger!” Jon raised his glass in salute. Luther, Whistler and Hughes raised theirs and clinked against his.
    “What’s wrong with you people!” Trent seethed.
    William Hughes raised an eyebrow. “I think the question we should be asking, Trent, is what’s wrong with you? We’re better off without those animals in our lives. You know that. It’s the principle we stand for.”
    Trent shook his head. He was breathing so hard, his chest visibly expanded. His hand on the table was curled in a tight fist. For a second Jon was sure he was going to haul off and pop Hughes in the nose, or worse, throw his glass at the man’s head.
    “What happened to Bellows? I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up yet.” Whistler was either trying to distract and diffuse, or he was merely oblivious of Trent’s inflamed temper. Knowing Whistler, Jon was fairly certain it was the latter.
    “I hope he’s not alone out there,” Luther offered. “There was no sign of the spook earlier, but that doesn’t mean he’s not out there prowling. It’s not safe for any of us to travel alone.”
    Trent downed another shot. “I hope the spook is out there. And I hope Bellows runs into him. I hope the spook nails him! After what he did tonight, he deserves it!”
    “Trent!” Luther exclaimed. “The spook is not something to joke about! I don’t care how angry you are. Bellows is your brother in the Klan! None of us deserve to be attacked by that monster!”
    “You’d think, since he’s already been roughed up by the spook once, he wouldn’t risk it again,” Jon commented dryly.
    Trent’s heated glare turned from his father to Jon. “If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it!”
    “Trent! Enough!” Luther’s face turned red. “If you can’t be civil, then leave!”
    “Speaking of the spook, have you heard from Stone yet?” Whistler asked Hughes. “Did he tell you what we should do about Nash?”
    “Not yet,” Hughes said.
    “Stone must still be deliberating. He doesn’t believe Nash is the spook,” Luther offered.
    “I don’t either,” Jon snickered. “Nash is too damn prissy. I think the man is queer.”
    “You’ve said that before,” Hughes said, “but for a queer, he sure pays a lot of attention to your wife.”
    “What do you mean?” Jon was busily pouring another round.
    “Let me put it this way,” Hughes said. “I would strongly suggest you come back to church.”
    “I’m not going into any church with niggers in it,” Jon spat.
    “Perhaps you need to keep a better eye on that wife of yours. Are you aware she visits Nash every afternoon? She meets him at the church and then they go to the parsonage. They stay there together, alone , for hours.”
    “Are you implying that my daughter is—” Luther started and cut himself off. To Jon he said, “She wouldn’t do that to you, Jon. I know my daughter. She would