Beyond the Quiet Hills Read Online Free

skirt that came to the ankles. Black lace decorated the edges of the collar and the wrists of the sleeves. Reaching out, Iris stroked the girl’s glossy brown hair and said with a half smile, “One of these days I’ll be going to your wedding.”
    Amanda ducked her head. “I don’t know who’d have me, Ma.”
    â€œNow, don’t you talk like that, Amanda! You’re a fine-looking young lady! By the time you get to be a full-grown woman, why, young fellas will be lined up to get to come courtin’.”
    Amanda did not answer. Her spirit had almost been broken by the brutal treatment she had received from her father. It was manifested in her every move. She walked with her head down as if she were afraid to look up, and her shoulders were often hunched as if she were expecting a blow. Still, on this special day she did look fresh and pretty, and now she managed a smile. “All right, Ma, if you say so.”
    â€œCome along. We’ll have to hurry or we’ll be late.”
    As the two left the cabin, Iris said, “We’ll come back as soon as the wedding’s over, Ezekiel.” She received no answer, for her husband simply sat there adding to the pile of thin, curling shavings. Turning, the two hurried off, walking along the path that led to the eastern part of the settlement.
    As soon as they were gone, Zeke stood up and stared after them. He slipped the knife back in his belt and walked aimlessly around the littered yard. A speckled chicken got in his way, and he swore at it, giving it a kick that sent it squawking through the air. This gave him some satisfaction, and he growled, “Get out of my way, chicken, or I’ll wring your neck!”
    As he wandered over the small farm, he thought back to the time when Hawk Spencer had held the knife to his throat and threatened to scalp him if he mistreated his wife or daughter again. It had gone hard with Zeke, for something in Spencer’s dark blue eyes had warned him that he would do exactly what he said.
    â€œMan can’t do what he wants with his own family! Country’s come to a pretty pass!” he muttered. A thought came to him and his muddy eyes lightened for a moment. Glancing around, he stepped more rapidly until he reached the woods that lay only a few yards past the front door of his house. He paused beside a hollow tree. Reaching carefully inside to the length of his arm, he grunted with satisfaction and pulled a brown jug from the hole.
    â€œNow this is somethin’-like,” he said with satisfaction. He had not been drinking so much lately. As a matter of fact, he had not had a drink for over three weeks. But something about the wedding sat ill with him. He was irritable and angry, and as he lifted the jug, a baleful light gave his eyes a hard glint. He swallowed the whiskey and stomped his feet as the fiery alcohol hit his empty stomach. Expelling a huge breath, he stood there for a moment blinking his eyes as the raw whiskey bit at him.
    Taking a deep breath, he thought again of the knife at his throat, and the memory was as bitter as gall. “One of these days we’ll see, Spencer! It’ll be you that gets scalped and not me!”
    ****
    The small cabin that Hawk had made his home since coming back from his wanderings was no more than ten by twelve. The single room of the structure had a dirt floor, and only one window beside the door allowed in light and air. The furnishings were sparse and rough looking, handmade by Hawk himself. A table and two chairs were placed in the center of the room. A plain worktable with a shelf hung on the wall, while above, tin cups, plates, and a few pots and pans were suspended on pegs driven into the logs. One small bed was fastened to the back wall, bearing a corn-shuck mattress. The worktable was placed next to a small fireplace in which a fire crackled continuously, and over it dangled a cast-iron pot for heating water and cooking his