The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(10)

“She’s riled up ‘cause I won’t take none of her sass.” William spoke with his back to Livonia, and kept to his doctoring of the sick cow.

“What did you do?”

“Told her get back to the house.”

“That’s all?”

“Just about.” William turned, his face knotted tight with anger. “She’s a girl, Livonia! A girl! Instead of accepting that, you fill her head with craziness and get her thinking she can do whatever Will does. Well, it ain’t so!” he snapped.

“How can you talk this way? She’s your daughter, your own flesh and blood!”

“Women got their place in life. Nothing you say or do is gonna change that!”

“Nothing’s gonna change you either!” Livonia said. “You’re just a stubborn old bull frog!” With that, she whirled on her heel and marched off.

The Lannigan family was halfway through their soup when Livonia heard the clip-clop of a horse trotting up the dirt road. She said nothing but listened with a sharp ear until moments later she heard the familiar clunk of the pen latch. She was certain everyone else had also heard it, but William just dunked his bread in the soup and never even raised an eyebrow. A minute or two passed and then several more, but still Abigail did not come into the house. When Livonia could wait no longer, she left the supper table and walked out onto the front porch. The child was sitting on the top step with her head dropped down between her knees. Her face was hidden but with the youthful curve of her body and a tangled shank of chestnut hair hanging down her back there was no mistaking that it was Abigail Anne.

“You were gone a mighty long while,” Livonia said.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Abigail did not look up.

“Your papa’s pretty peeved about you taking Malvania.”

“I figured he would be.”

“I’ll have none of your sassiness, young lady. Your papa told you not to ride Malvania for fear you’d get hurt.”

Abigail jumped to her feet and faced her mother. “You blind, Mama? Don’t you see it ain’t just Malvania? He plain out hates me!”

Livonia saw the red welts on Abigail’s cheek. “What happened to your face?” The girl just rolled her eyes and turned away but Livonia could tell it was the mark of a man’s powerful hand. “Abigail, honey, you’ve got to get something on that. Come have some soup while I fix up a salve.”

“I ain’t hungry, Mama.”

“Nonsense.” Livonia took hold of the girl’s hand and led her to the table.

With an empty stare fixed on her own feet, Abigail sat down. Livonia brought a bowl of soup and set it in front of her; then Abigail dutifully picked up her spoon and brought it to her mouth. Her movements were slow and deliberate; the movements of a child following commands, not those of one driven by hunger.

William did not look up, but after he had emptied his own soup bowl, he pushed back from the table and started taking his belt off. “You hurry and finish up that dinner, girl, ‘cause soon as you do you’re gonna get the beating of your life for sassing me and taking that horse.”

“No, Papa!” Will shouted.

“Shut up, boy. Keep to your own business.”

“Abigail Anne, you take your time with that soup,” Livonia said then she turned and walked out the kitchen door. In less than a heartbeat she was back with a pitchfork in her hand. She looked straight into William’s eyes. “Lay another hand on this child,” she said, “and, I’ll run you clean through.”

“Are you crazy, woman?”

“Blind maybe, but not crazy,” Livonia answered. “You’ve done her enough harm. Now, you let her be.”

“I’ll do no such thing! She needs to be taught a lesson.”

“I warn you, William, harm her and I’ll make certain you never sleep through another night. Even if you best me now, I’ll wait ‘till you grow so weary that you have to close your eyes then I’ll cut your stubborn old heart out.” Livonia’s voice didn’t waver, didn’t show one iota of weakness, it was as flat and cold as the meadow in the dead of winter. “Believe me, William,” she said, “believe me when I tell you I’ll do it.”

William kicked over his chair and stepped back from the table. “Woman, you have gone stark raving mad. I’ve half a mind to let the authorities come lock you up in the insane asylum.” He took three long strides toward Livonia and grabbed hold of the pitchfork handle. She was a tall woman but narrow built and certainly no match for a man of William’s size, her heart started beating faster and beads of sweat rose up on her face, but still Livonia kept a firm grip on the pitchfork. “I’ve been a patient man,” he said, and pushed his face up into hers. “You wanted Abigail Anne to go to school and I let her, even though I knew a girl didn’t need book learning. I give in on that, then you start in filling her head with Suffragette nonsense, telling her how women now got the same rights as men—well, it ain’t so. It ain’t never gonna be so! That little she-devil ought to learn about the truth of life or she ain’t gonna grow up fit to be any man’s wife!” With that, William yanked the pitchfork from Livonia’s hand and heaved it right through the screen door. Then he banged open the door, stormed out and slammed it behind him.