thing he could find to say was that it had probably cost him a pretty penny.
Before the year was out, Martin had gone from being surly and unpleasant to downright cruel. He’d think nothing of smacking one of the kids upside the head for being in his way or speaking when they hadn’t been spoken to. He was worse with Virgil, and Ben Roland was next in line. Virgil, he’d resented from the day he was born, but Ben Roland had been one of his favorites up until that January.
It was a bitter cold day with snow changing to sleet then back to snow again. The train ran behind schedule, and he’d had to wait an hour for the trolley. By the time he got to the house, he was in a mood blacker than any Eliza had ever seen. He plunked the envelope on the table, walked over to the parlor, and dropped into the overstuffed chair. Seeing Virgil nearby, he called to him.
“You,” he said. “Get over here and pull these frozen boots off my feet.”
Virgil was not quite six, small for his age, and scared to death of his daddy. Without lifting his eyes, the lad scurried across the room and started tugging on the boots. They were wet, heavy, and crusted with snow, so the boy’s small fingers couldn’t get a good grip on the first one. No matter how hard he pulled, it didn’t budge.
With his patience worn thin, Martin drew his foot back and kicked Virgil in the chest. The boy tumbled halfway across the room. Ben Roland came into the room in time to see what happened.
At 15 he was narrow across his back and shoulders but tall as Martin and strong as an ox. Leaning over, his face inches from his daddy’s, he shouted, “Leave him be, Daddy! Pick on somebody your own size!”
Martin bolted up and came at Ben Roland with his fists flying.
When Eliza heard the crash, she came running in. Oliver was right behind her. It took both of them to pull Ben Roland and Martin apart. When they finally did, she turned to Martin.
“Maybe you’d best be leaving.”
Instead of turning toward the door, Martin flopped back down in the chair. “I ain’t leaving. I decided to stay the night.”
“Stay?” Eliza said, her voice wavering. “But what about work? Don’t you have to—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Eliza. I’m paying for you and this house, so I’ll do as I damn well please.”
“I wasn’t saying you shouldn’t stay. I only thought—”
“You ain’t got brains enough to think. Get in the kitchen, and fix me some supper.”
A prickly feeling of fear rolled down her spine as Eliza called for the kids to come along and let their daddy get some rest.
Hoping there was a chance Martin might change his mind and return to Altoona that night if supper were over early enough, Eliza hurried things along. A short while later they all gathered at the table, but it was nothing like it had been back in Coal Creek. There was no conversation, no stories told, no adventures shared. There was only the clinking of utensils against plates and the anger that had settled over the room like an ominous storm cloud.
When supper was done, Martin asked if Eliza had any whiskey in the house. She said no, so he stomped off and went back to the parlor. Once he was gone from the room, Eliza turned to the older boys.
“Take your sisters and brothers upstairs, and make sure everyone gets to bed,” she whispered.
Oliver’s eyebrows twitched. “I’m thinking Ben Roland and me ought to stay with you, Mama. Dewey can take the kids up.”
Eliza shook her head. “I’ll be fine on my own. Your daddy’s just mad at the world; he’s not gonna hurt me.”
Oliver hesitated, but Eliza waved him off. “Go on. Get everybody into bed, be real quiet, and close your doors.”
Taking more time than usual to clear away the table and clean up the kitchen, Eliza waited until she felt certain the kids were asleep. With the kitchen spotless, she squared her shoulders and joined Martin in the parlor with a piece of embroidery. She focused on her stitching, forcing her tone to seem more normal.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve wanted to stay the night. I thought you most likely had another lady friend.”
“So what if I do?” Martin snapped. “You made it clear you ain’t interested in nothing but having me