Veiled Revenge

By Jack O. Moore

The Appalachian Mountain Range stretches north through Eastern West Virginia. It is here the roots of this saga seared into minds, never to be forgotten. Two families, neighbors, one suffered from the other. Ones conscience does not always control actions.
Many years pass, the vicious acts and rudeness are rekindled. One strikes out, pushing aside personal integrity and a nagging conscience. Nasty events happen with no clues. They continue shielded by non-recognition and trust. Pulsating love surfaces from different directions. Mind-boggling emotions are expressed. In the midst of unrestrained love, payback must be made. Real life axioms are dealt with.
Past actions become part of ones future, inscribed on character, never to be changed. Revenge is taken with no thought of hurt to the initiator. Hard lessons abound. Ones life, actions and experiences offer rewards and consequences. These riveting characters will bring tears, smiles and laughter. They will push your mind and conscience to dwell on the highs and lows of living and love. Both can bring hurt and dire anguish.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483687179

Jack O. Moore

Jack O. Moore spent his early years in the Appalachian Mountains, Pocahontas County, West Virginia, in the beautiful rural community of Stony Bottom, along the Greenbrier River. He had no running water, bathroom or electricity. He attended a one-room school with one teacher. Received his Bachelor of Science Degree from the University of Charleston in West Virginia, then four years as an Air Force Traffic Control Instructor. Later studied at Ohio State University leading to his top management career, in Southern California. With his wife Mary Dare, now deceased, raised five children and began writing late in life. This is his sixth book. He enjoys creating new characters involved in romance, intrigue and suspense. At age 81 he remains active managing a vacation resort, running marathons and writing.

Book preview

VEILED

REVENGE

JACK O. MOORE

logo.jpg

California Trend Publishers

1241 Pine Lane

Big Bear City, CA 92314

xl.jpg

www.Xlibris.com

Copyright © 2013 by Jack O. Moore.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013914980

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4836-8716-2

                Softcover      978-1-4836-8715-5

                Ebook              978-1-4836-8717-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 08/30/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

140275

CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY ONE

TWENTY TWO

TWENTY THREE

TWENTY FOUR

TWENTY FIVE

TWENTY SIX

ONE

The afternoon air had the bite of fall as the breeze rippled through nearby one-hundred year old sugar maples. Twenty years tucked away up this hollow on the mountainside, she felt was more than her mind and body could endure. Alice did not intend to die here as her husband did one year ago. He was adamant about these acres and would never seriously talk about moving down by the main road, closer to other families. Keeping up the place, with her young daughter, and raising most of their food was too heavy a burden. She made a promise to herself. The coming winter would be her last on this mountain, even though Nathan, her husband, was buried within sight of the house.

There were moments, especially in the fall, when the mountain put on its best display, she would marvel at being in the midst of nature’s best. She viewed, from her porch, the grassy hillsides dotted with multicolored trees, parched tree stumps and grey boulders. All cascaded up to the timber line, as the surrounding hills uplifted the high mountain. The majestic view would ease her mind during a busy day. But she never seemed to snatch an hour, as often as she intended, from a hurried day to sit and allow the calm, brilliant colors to saturate her soul. Though when she took such moments to be alone, her spirit was lifted to finish her day.

A peak towered high and clearly visible from the house gave her an uneasy feeling. Huge boulders and sharp pointed rocks were prominent, rising above the trees. Those odd-shaped boulders were called the Devil’s Nose. When she allowed her imagination to roam, it had the faint shape of a snarling, fearsome nose. There were moments when she looked up from her kitchen window she felt unwanted vibes. She could almost hear a deep, agitated, rumbling, broken voice, belching out from those boulders. Why are you on my mountain? During winter, hushed barren trees plastered against the grey cold mountainside with dark green pine draped on top, reflected no warmth or mercy for any person who may venture to such height. Even during spring and summer, when the mountain burst alive, with vibrant greens, gold and red honeysuckle, no friendly invitation. Those boulders, that snarling nose, seem to cast an ugly pall over everything good. She reminded herself that was the mountain’s character, aloof, frigid and to be left alone. In her heart she would oblige, not remain on a hostile and angry mountain.

When cold howling winds thrashed against the house for days, dropping one or two feet of snow, she felt chilled and totally isolated. She couldn’t imagine a lonelier place during winter blizzards. She peeked out the kitchen window, looked high on the mountain. Dark clouds covered the pine, slithered over the top and she knew shivering rain usually followed.

Where was Angie? She had not seen or heard her for two hours.

Angie, where are you? She called out. She had no response and went to the front door. Angie, can you hear me? You better come in.

She didn’t like her fifteen-year old daughter wandering off without telling her and would remind her again her mother wanted to know where she was going. She had noticed lately Angie was beginning to act as though she was older. Perhaps that’s a good sign of maturing, but she must let her mother know. She returned to the kitchen to finish preparing supper and heard the front door open and close.

Mom, I’m back, Angie said, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.

Where have you been Angie? I’ve been calling for you.

Angie did not answer immediately. Came into the kitchen and began washing her hands in the sink. I walked down the hollow a piece. Stayed longer than I expected.

Her mother noticed she was washing stain from her hands. Angie, have you been in Old Purdy’s grapes and blackberries again? She turned and stared at Angie.

Angie turned and grinned. Yes, and I didn’t see him this time.

I’m telling you to stay away from his grapes and berries. That man has a streak of the devil in him. You don’t know what he might do.

Mom, the grapes and berries are going to waste. Birds and coons are getting their share, so I see no harm in eating them. She reached for a kitchen towel to dry her hands.

He has never told you to help yourself to his grapes and berries. You know that. I don’t want him coming up here again, ranting and raving about my daughter I can’t control.

Mom, you know the old man has lost most of his marbles. He’s weird. He’ll yell nasty things at me even when I’m walking down the road. And you know how far that is from his house.

Angie, don’t say things like that. She smiled, knowing there was much truth in what Angie said. Young girls like you shouldn’t be saying such things. Older folks don’t like to hear young people making remarks like that. They won’t think kindly of you.

You know it’s true mom.

Her mother with a slight grin responded. Just be careful what you say about him. Okay? He’s not the kind of close neighbor I’d like to have. But Old Purdy is our neighbor.

I know Daddy didn’t think much of him either. But Daddy would never say much about Old Purdy.

Angie to you he is Mr. Purdy. Okay? She responded in a serious tone.

Mom, you just called him Old Purdy. I merely called him what you did. She replied in a questioning tone.

Angelica Sue, come here. She spoke her full first and middle name when she wanted Angie’s undivided attention and put her arm around Angie’s shoulder. Adults can refer to others in ways that young people should not. I can say that and another person may not think it’s bad. If a nice young girl like you would say that, others will think you are disrespectful of adults. You don’t want adults thinking that about you. You’re a nice young girl and I don’t want people thinking you’re not. She turned Angie toward her. Give me a hug.

Angie smiled and they hugged lightly.

I love you mom, Angie said as she pulled away.

I love you to honey. She patted Angie on the back and turned toward the kitchen table. By the way, did you see Rex?

Only at school.

Does he talk to you?

Angie thought a moment. We usually nod or speak. She recalled how he would turn away from her. He never wants to say much. I think Purdy, or Mr. Purdy I should say, she smiled at her mother, Has told him to stay away from me. He seems to have some of his father’s traits. And I say that’s unfortunate for him.

Now Angie don’t be too critical of Rex.

Mom, I smile at him at times when I speak and he never smiles back. Even then, most of the time, he only nods. I’ve tried many times to talk with him—he is not friendly.

Is he friendly with other kids?

No. Not that I have seen.

Her mother glanced at the wall clock. Angie you better do your outside chores. By the time you’re though I’ll have supper ready. I’m sure the chickens are waiting to be fed.

Angie started toward the back door. Why is that old rooster so mean? If he tries to spur me again, I’ll bust him with a board.

Her mother chuckled. You just be careful around him. I don’t want you doing anything to my prized rooster. We need a good rooster.

He better stay away from me. He sneaks up behind me when I gather the eggs.

Just watch out for him. You’ll be okay. She reassured Angie.

Angie returned a skeptical look and went out the door with a small basket in hand.

Alice smiled as her mind lingered on her daughter. Angelica was her jewel and she wanted the best for her. But this mountainside was no place for her daughter. Somehow there must better things in her young life. She was a bright girl and could have a great future if given opportunity. One more year and she would be through high school. Angie had mentioned college only a couple times, but Alice knew deep within, college was on her mind often. Somehow that would have to happen. But how? Again she vowed, one more winter and that’s it. No more. She would get off this mountain one way or another. She had noticed Angie was more interested in boys the past year and thought Rex and she may become good friends. But that’s unlikely due to Old Purdy. A young girl should have a boy as a good friend. Young people need to have others their age to talk with.

Angie was self conscious of her appearance and this also worried Alice. The medical ointment helped, but the rash and constant pimples on her face never totally cleared. Alice was certain this caused Angie to be reserved and aloof at times, keeping her from cultivating more friends. Her skin should gradually clear as she becomes older, but it couldn’t happen a day too soon.

Taking care of the place kept her and Angie busy. This also prevented Angie from having time to develop and spend time with more friends, but it was necessary for now as she could not do everything herself. She thought of only part of the chores waiting to be done; potatoes had to be dug, apples had to be picked and onions had to be pulled and stored. All necessary to prepare for winter. She was stretching the money, saved by her and her late husband, as much as possible. She could not see it lasting more than two years. She figured her ninety acres would have to be sold. One of the nearby farmers should be willing to pay a good price for more good grazing land for their cattle. At least that was her hope and perhaps her only option. Several acres were also forested with good timber that could bring a good price.

Every night before going to bed she gave Angie a hug and bid her goodnight. Angie was a good student and she wanted Angie to feel her support. She encouraged Angie at every opportunity and told her often better days were ahead. Though Angie’s reaction, at times, reflected her doubt. Alice also had her doubt, but she believed and strived to be positive about life. Their life was not easy, but she felt they were a team. They needed each other and it had to be that way for now and the near future. These mountains and this house were all Angie had known. Though she had traveled to Washington, D.C. once with a group of teachers and students from high school.

Every night before her eyes closed, her mind dwelled on her three main worries. Getting off the mountain, Old Purdy and having a better life for Angie. She became a bit fearful of Old Purdy after Nathan died. His actions toward her and Angie became worse. But she did not want Angie to have the same fear. She had never been around a man who acted so brash and rude. He had never shown any consideration for Angie or her. He would even yell at Angie from a distance for no reason. He acted as though he didn’t want another human being around him or even in sight. There were moments she felt sorry for him. But in the next breath wondered what had happened in his life that caused him to be so disagreeable and offensive.

Within five minutes the tuna casserole could come out of the oven and supper would be ready. This was one of Angie’s favorite dishes and she should be finished with her chores soon. Suddenly, two large bangs on the front door rattled the front of the house. Alice hurried and when she opened the door she was blasted by a loud voice.

Lady I am telling you for the last time. You better—

Alice cut him off, Rupert Purdy don’t you yell at me. If you have something to say, calm down or I’ll slam this door shut.

Do you know where your girl was an hour ago? Before Alice could respond he continued in a stern but lower tone. That little thief was in my grapes again. If you can’t control her you will be talking to the sheriff.

You would call the sheriff over grapes that are going to waste? And don’t you call her a thief. Alice replied with an angry tone.

Those are my grapes and what happens to them is none of your business. She took something that is mine and I call her a little thief. I’m giving you fair warning for the last time woman.

She is not a thief just because she ate your grapes. Rupert Purdy why don’t you let the kids have some grapes? If you’re not picking them they will be wasted. Makes no sense to let all those good grapes go to waste.

Don’t you tell me what to do woman! I better never see that brat on my property again or you will be sorry.

Are you threatening me? Alice blurted in a hard tone.

He jutted his face forward. You heard what I said.

Alice shook her head, frustrated. Rupert calm down. And answer me this. We are neighbors in this hollow. Why can’t we be friendly neighbors?

Rupert was surprised by her overture for friendship. Uh—I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t need friends. You understand that?

No I don’t understand. Everybody needs friends. You’re not getting any younger you know. Why do you say such things?

I say it because that’s the way I feel. And you better remember what I said. He turned to walk away.

Alice quickly called out in a demanding tone. Rupert Purdy stop! Turn around and look at me. She surprised herself in blurting out with a commanding voice.

He stopped, turned his head and looked back, surprised.

I would like us to be friends. She spoke in a solemn tone. But you remember this. It is you and not me. You are the one who refuses to be friendly. If you walk away giving no desire for friendship, I will never ask you again. She wanted him to understand. And I mean just what I said.

He continued to look at her. His eyes flashed from one side to the other. His lips moved as if he was going to blurt something. But turned his head and walked away. Alice stood in the doorway and watched as he hurried down the road. Her emotions gyrated. One second she was angry and the next she felt sorry for him. Had he been subjected to physical or verbal abuse as a child? What kind of parents did he have? He had allowed himself to become a miserable human being.

But she had to make the offer for friendship. To satisfy her conscience, she could not let the situation continue without making the effort. That’s all she could or would do.

Twenty years prior, Alice Smithson and her late husband Nathan, wanted to have a home in the mountains. Though his desire for a mountain farm home was stronger than hers. She grew up outside of town, but was not a farm girl. Nathan was a good man and she wanted to please. They searched and looked at several houses and locations for a year. Finally, they came upon the ninety acres in the Allegheny Mountains, situated one mile up a dirt road and about three miles on Route 28 south of Cherry Grove. The two-story, three bedroom house had been vacant for six months, but was only ten years old. The exterior was white with grey trim and well kept. The dirt road wound up the hollow fairly level for one-half mile. Then it climbed steadily up the mountainside a short distance. This was the last house up the hollow. There were two other houses along the dirt road, both near Route 28, the main two-lane blacktop road.

The house and five acres were on level ground with a large vegetable garden, an orchard with several apple and two pear trees. The remaining acres had good grazing areas on the hillsides. Nathan figured he could raise and sell cattle, along with some sheep and have a good living. Alice liked the house, but was not keen on being so isolated and off the main road. Nathan, however, had the excitement of a teenager. He grew up on a farm and this was his fulfillment of a dream. Each had traveled in the West and Deep South prior to their marriage, but both had the desire to remain in West Virginia. Nathan grew up on a farm near Summersville, in Nicholas County, and Alice came from the Elkins area, in Randolph County. They lived in Elkins the first four years of marriage before finding their mountain home. Both fell in love with Pocahontas and Pendleton County mountains and scenery. And for Alice their new home, located in the southern part of Pendleton County and near the northern part of Pocahontas County, was slightly more than one hour’s drive from Elkins near her home place. They adored this section of the Allegheny Mountains, which are part of the huge Appalachian Mountains running north from Alabama to Quebec in Canada. The mountain range sprawls through the eastern part of West Virginia.

Angie came in the back door and set the basket of eggs on the kitchen counter. I saw Old Purdy, Mr. Purdy I should say, going down the road. Was he here mom?

Yes he was.

Angie recognized her tone of voice was not good. He came because of me. Right?

Yes he did.

What did he say? Was he mad?

Yes—he was mad and that’s an understatement. He was furious. Almost knocked the front door off the hinges.

Come on mom, it wasn’t that bad.

It was bad alright! And you know what he called you?

Angie stared, mouth gaped, waited to hear.

Little thief. Alice said as she set the casserole on the table.

He what? Angie blurted. Called me a thief over some grapes?

That’s right. And if he sees you there again, said he would call the sheriff. Alice looked at Angie. But honey, I stood up for you. I told him you were not a thief and he should let kids have grapes that are going to waste.

Angie smiled. You really said that?

I did, but it made no difference. Alice put her hand on Angie’s shoulder. Angelica Sue you must stay away from those grapes. He will call the sheriff and I don’t want them knocking on my door.

Angie shook her head in disbelief.

Angelica Sue, promise me. Okay?

Angie dreaded no longer eating those sweet grapes, leaving all for the raccoons. Yes, I promise—why does he have to be so mean?

Honey, we’ll never know. I also told him we are close neighbors and should be friendly.

You offered to be friendly with him? Mom you surprise me.

Yes, I did. She pointed, as she sat down. Grab some napkins, we’re ready to eat. You will understand, as you become older, sometimes a person has to forgive and overlook what somebody does to you. It’s not good for him or us not to be friendly. I had to extend the offer for myself. I don’t want it on my conscience that I never made the effort. That’s all I can do.

What did he say?

Said he didn’t want to be friends with me and he did not need friends. Alice shook her head in disbelief.

Angie had never thought of anybody feeling that way. Mom can you imagine never having any friends?

Alice continued to be amazed. I can’t imagine such a thing. Person’s life would be miserable and I feel sorry for someone like that. We humans are social by nature. She tightened her lips. Except for a few, I suppose.

Mom I still feel angry when I think of him killing our young lamb in the spring. He didn’t have to do that.

You’re right. It was totally unnecessary. I suppose he was venting some of his anger, or whatever.

He could’ve just picked up the lamb and dropped it on our side of the fence. But no, he kept hitting it with a heavy stick trying to make it go back through. Angie stared at her plate. I’ll never forgive him for that. Never.

Angie honey, don’t say that. A person should not carry grudges or hate for another. It’s not good for the mind or soul.

Mom you’re a forgiving person and I reckon that’s a good thing. But the feelings I have against that man won’t go away. I can’t help it. I will never feel different about him. He is just plain mean.

Don’t continue to hate him. Okay? The man has problems which we cannot change or don’t know about. As you become older you will feel differently.

Angie shook her head. I don’t know, but I doubt it.

Okay. Enough talk about Old Purdy. We’re not going to let him ruin our evening. Right? She reached and touched Angie on the shoulder.

Angie shook her head yes and smiled back.

Good. Let’s enjoy our supper.

Neither spoke for several minutes as they ate. Thoughts drifted through Alice’s mind on how nice it was to have good neighbors. While growing up her family had caring and friendly neighbors. But on this mountain it was not her luck-of-the-draw. Someone with whom you could have a friendly casual chat, usually about nothing serious, as you went about your day would be pleasant. She reminded herself that would change, only a matter of time, after getting off this hostile mountain.

Angie’s mind was occupied briefly about her home assignment for school. Then she wondered how different her life would be if she lived in or near town. She would not have Old Purdy around to harass her. But on second thought, neither would she have his sweet tasting grapes and berries. She and her mother were a team which was necessary while on the farm. She realized this hindered her social life in developing more high school friends, but there was no other option. She would do anything to help her mother. Also, she believed they would be off the mountain and not any too soon.

Casual conversation began, primarily about the weather. The forecast called for another winter storm which neither wanted to hear. Both expressed their hope it would move through quick and be mild. They dreaded the possibility of another heavy snow of one foot or more. But with mountain weather, nature often brought surprises.

Couple hours following cleanup after supper, Angie had done her home work and both were preparing for bed.

Alice knocked on Angie’s bedroom door.

It’s okay, Angie responded.

Alice noticed, as she entered, Angie was looking in the mirror checking the rash and blemishes on her face. Often they talked at bedtime.

Mom, some days I can’t stand how I look.

I know how you feel Angie. I had the same problem.

What did you do? Some weeks it looks better, then it comes right back.

Honey, some young people go through that as their body changes and develops. Unfortunately it’s part of maturing. I did about the same thing you’re doing.

Angie leaned her head forward, frustrated and flipped her lightly colored brunette hair down her back. Now it seems like it will never clear up.

Alice moved close to Angie, both looked in the mirror. Look at my face. You don’t see any blemishes do you?

Angie looked, did not respond.

Alice put her hand on Angie’s shoulder. It will clear up, believe me. It will and probably soon. Alice wanted to assure her. Angelica, as I keep telling you—you’re a beautiful girl. It’s both what’s inside and outside a person that makes the person beautiful. Not just their looks. I know, today so much emphasis is placed on skin and exterior looks, but that’s not true beauty. It’s a superficial kind of beauty. She pulled Angie closer as both continued to look into the mirror. Believe me, you will have true beauty. True beauty is not just how you look to others, but your character, consideration for others, being friendly, willing to help others, your personal values and being able to respect yourself as a person. She patted Angie on the back. I have no doubt. You will be very happy with your looks. You are a beautiful girl.

Angie smiled. Mom, you always make it sound good.

Because I believe what I tell you. Do not doubt—it will be good. You are a wonderful girl. Don’t ever doubt that.

They hugged, wished each other goodnight.

As Alice walked away, Angie said, Thanks mom, you always make me feel good. Love you.

Alice turned, smiled. That’s part of what a mother does. You should feel good. Sleep tight. Love you to. And closed the door.

TWO

The afternoon temperature had dropped and another winter snow storm was blowing in. The mountain had already turned gloomy and cold. The school bus dropped Angie off and she always walked the dirt road home. She shivered for moments even though she was wearing a heavy sweater. Rex was ahead of her by a few yards and she walked fast to catch up.

How is school going for you? Angie asked, as she walked beside him.

Rex just looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.

Do you like your teachers?

Not really, he replied as he looked straight ahead.

Angie wanted to engage him in a conversation, but knew it may not be easy. She wanted to know how he gets along with his father. Also she would like to be his friend, sit, talk some times, do things together.

Angie responded. You seemed to be a quiet person. Do you talk to your friends much?

Don’t have friends. He said somberly. Except, maybe one or two.

Friends can be nice, you know. Someone to talk with near your own age, other than your father. Are you interested in having friends?

He continued on for several steps. Maybe, he responded and looked at her. Why are you asking these questions?

Angie was surprised by his reply and wanted him to talk. Just making conversation, I suppose. Thinking of school and how much time we spend with others in class. No big deal. She turned toward him. I’d like to be your friend.

He did not reply as they continued walking.

Soon Angie asked, Do you not want to talk?

He glanced at her as though he wanted to and looked straight ahead.

If not, just say so and I won’t bother you.

I’m not supposed to talk to you, he responded in a subdued tone as he looked down into the dirt.

Not supposed to? She replied quickly. What does that mean? She continued to look at him waiting for a response.

He took several more steps before he answered. My father does not want to see me talking to you. Again he did not look at her.

That’s nonsense. Why?

Rex did not respond, continued with his head down.

Why would your father tell you that?

I think you know. He glanced at her. He does not like you.

I know. Because of grapes that are going to waste and I ate some.

Again Rex did not respond. Silence followed as they moseyed along.

Angie asked, That’s no reason you and I can’t be friends. Is it? Angie had decided she would make one last effort in spite of his father’s attitude. They lived close and would be nice to be friends.

I don’t want to talk about it. Okay? His tone reflected irritation.

They had reached the point where Rex started to leave the road toward his house.

Wait, Angie said. Stop and listen to me. I would like for us to be friends. At least be able to talk to each other, in spite of how your father feels. What’s wrong with that?

He glanced at her, stared back down at the road. Clearly surprised and bothered by her questions.

Do you not get along with your father?

I can’t go against what he tells me. He wanted to say something else, but was afraid to go against his father.

He told my mom he did not want any friends. He seems to be an angry man. Has he always been that way?

Rex stared down at his feet, gently kicked a small rock, as if uncertain what to say. After mom died, he changed. He glanced toward his house. He did not want his father to see him. I don’t want to talk about it. I have to do what he says. He turned and started walking away.

Rex, Angie called out. Sorry, if I irritated you. But remember what I said. We could be good friends. Okay?

She watched, he did not respond and continued toward his house.

Two days later the weather had turned colder, wind whipped the trees and tiny snowflakes were being tossed and blown around. Angie came in from doing her afternoon chores.

Mom it is getting cold and it’s starting to snow.

I noticed and we may get another good snow the way it looks. I think we should put the sheep inside tonight. Did you see them?

Yes, they’re over on the hill. You want me to bring them in?

You do that and I’ll have supper ready by that time.

Angie went upon the hill, began to pet and talk to her favorite ewe. Then, as usual, they all began to follow her back. On the way she noticed one was missing. She looked around and it was not in sight. She continued, as they followed her into the small barn where the floor was covered with hay, for them to bed down for the night.

Angie had been gone about thirty minutes when she came in the back door, shivering from the cold. I should have worn a heavy coat. It’s getting worse. They are inside but one is missing. I didn’t see it anywhere.

Are you sure? They usually stay close together.

Yes mom. Only twelve.

Alice walked to the kitchen window, looked out. The clouds were becoming more ominous and dusk would settle in soon. Angie, I need to go look for that ewe. You watch supper that’s on the stove. She started toward the coat tree by the front door. I better get my heavy coat.

Maybe she will come in on her own.

I doubt it. There’s not much daylight left and I’m afraid something has happened. One doesn’t normally stray away from the others. Within a minute she was out the door.

She went to the hill where Angie found the others and began to call. They knew her voice and would usually come. She continued onto the second hill, calling as she went. And no ewe appeared. As she went over the crest of the hill, down in the low cove area where her property ended at the wire fence, she saw the ewe hobbling up the hill. In the distance, at about fifty yards, she saw Old Purdy walking away. Immediately, she knew what happened.

Alice ran to the ewe. It would barely touch the ground with its left rear leg. Alice could see the leg was skinned, seeping blood and had been beaten.

Alice yelled. Rupert Purdy what did you do to my sheep?

Purdy stopped, turned, waived his big stick and yelled back. It came through the fence on my side. If it happens again it’ll be worse. He then continued on his way.

Alice yelled again. How mean can you be? Beating a defenseless sheep.

Rupert ignored her.

When she finally got the ewe in with the others, she put antiseptic on the wounds and wrapped the worst area of the leg. She knew the ewe should be alright in a few days but she was furious at Old Purdy. They had their supper late and before bedtime the conversation turned back to Old Purdy.

Mom why would Mr. Purdy beat a sheep?

Alice’s jaw bristled. I have no idea. The man is mean. Just plain ornery.

You can say that again. Why did we have to end up with a neighbor like that?

Our misfortune. I’d say there’s not another man like him in the whole county.

Both were occupied with thoughts. Alice couldn’t imagine a rational man beating a defenseless ewe because it got through a hole in the fence. She had not been able to keep the fence mended as Nathan did.

Angie’s thoughts were on Rexrode. It would be nice if they could have friendly talk at school and while walking up the road together. Nothing was said for a few minutes.

Angie broke the silence. I tried to talk with Rex a couple days ago.

Alice looked at Angie. What do you mean—tried?

As we walked up the road together from the bus, I asked him about his father and told him I thought we should be friends. She looked at her mother. I used your approach mom, as she smiled.

Alice wanted to know more. When Angie did not continue she said. Go on. Tell me what happened.

My offer to be friends didn’t make any difference. Same as yours.

Did he say anything about his father when you asked?

I don’t think he wanted me asking questions and said he had to listen to his father. And he is not supposed to talk to me.

Alice blurted, His father told him that?

Angie nodded yes. And said his father changed after his mother died. I really tried to get him talking, but he would say very little. It’s almost like he’s afraid to talk, as though he could be punished for something he says.

Sounds as though he’s afraid of his father.

He definitely does not want to go against him. Angie thought about her efforts to talk. They are strange. Now Rexrode is old enough to start thinking for himself. But that Mr. Purdy is a nasty man. I will never forgive him. She furrowed her brow. Mom why do I have to call him Mr. Purdy? He does deserve to be called Mr. I thought Mr. implied respect for the person.

Alice grinned. Honey, it does imply respect. But I do share your feelings about him. She touched Angie on the shoulder to make her point. But at your young age call him Mr.—Okay?

If you say so, but he does not deserve it.

Alice smiled, admired her daughter. "Angie, life is not always fair and people do not always get what they deserve. Some seem to get better than deserved and others less. As a person becomes