Mud Creek Read Online Free Page B

blows.
    She had to buckle down and make tough decisions, had to select from numerous bad alternatives. She’d always scoffed at steady, reliable Albert, but how could she ignore his suggestion? In light of her current dilemma, it would be insane to pass up such a chance.
    Still…could she…should she…
    There was Violet to consider. Helen didn’t see any good future for her sister in Maywood. Violet was frequently swept away by a riotous gaiety that lasted weeks, then she’d fall into deep despondence, where she would be too drained to crawl out of bed for days at a time.
    Her condition was worsening, and Helen had no idea how to help her. If they moved to the Dakotas, if Violet married Arthur and lived quietly in the country and away from the temptations of town, surely she would benefit.
    Helen didn’t know what was best, and it dawned on her that she should visit Mr. Wainwright and seek out his opinion. He’d offered his assistance. Why not accept the aid he’d so gallantly tendered?
    She’d just resolved to call on him in the morning, when the back door opened and Violet stormed into the kitchen. She was cursing, stomping her feet, and banging something on the cupboard. Whatever it was, it shattered, the sound of broken glass hitting the floor, but the banging didn’t cease.
    Helen had been so absorbed in her afternoon of misery that she hadn’t once wondered about Violet. She’d assumed Violet was upstairs napping or reading a magazine. It hadn’t occurred to her that Violet might have gone out—Helen had insisted she not—and instantly, Helen was in a panic.
    It was the exhausting state of her life: fretting about Violet, quarreling with her, Violet’s promises of better conduct, which she quickly forgot, then the cycle starting over again.
    Helen was so weary, she felt ill with fatigue. She rushed to the kitchen, and the sight that greeted her was alarming.
    Violet had taken a coffee cup and smashed it, but she still held the cracked handle, and she kept bashing it over and over so it had cut her hand. She didn’t appear to notice her injury, and blood dripped from her fingers, flowing down her arm and staining her dress.
    “Violet!” Helen cried, but her sister didn’t hear. “Violet! Stop it.”
    Helen dashed over and seized Violet’s wrist so she could pry the cup away. Violet seemed bewildered, as if she didn’t understand how she’d wounded herself, and Helen guided her to a nearby chair.
    As Violet eased down, she was mumbling what sounded like, “He left…he left…”
    “What, dear? What is it? What’s wrong?”
    Violet blinked twice, and her vision cleared.
    “Helen?”
    “What happened, Violet? Tell me.”
    “Oh…oh, nothing.”
    Helen wrapped a dish towel around Violet’s hand and pressed tight to staunch the bleeding. They couldn’t pay the doctor, so she hoped it wouldn’t need to be sewn.
    Shaken, she pulled up a chair of her own and asked, “Where have you been?”
    “I walked out to the fair.”
    “Violet”—Helen clucked her tongue like a mother hen—“I warned you not to.”
    “It’s such a nice day. I couldn’t bear to be trapped in my room.”
    “You can’t fuel the flames of gossip. Otherwise, the rumors will never die down.”
    “I know.”
    “You didn’t speak to that man, did you? The one who caused all this trouble?”
    “No, I didn’t speak to him,” Violet hastily claimed, but she glanced away.
    “Swear it to me.”
    “I swear. I didn’t speak to him! He wasn’t even there.”
    Which indicated that she’d gone to check.
    Helen sighed with fury and disappointment. “Violet…what should I do with you?”
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
    It was Violet’s constant lament. She never intended any harm, but she hurt others anyway. Helen might have discounted her apology and sternly scolded her, but Violet began to cry, a flood of tears dripping down her pretty cheeks. Helen couldn’t stand to see her sister so out of control and unable