Nightchild

Chapter 41

"Ma, what are you doing here? I told you to take off early," Blythe scolded, throwing her purse on the stairs.

"Well, what may I ask, young lady, are you doin' back her so bloomin' early? Thought I'd have ya out of my hair and the house to my self so's I could get some work done for a change."

"For a change? All you do is work."

The spry old woman walked over and picked the purse from the step and hung it neatly from a hook on the hall tree. "That's cause you kids make a mess just as soon as I've gotten another picked up," she said, swinging around. A gray-flecked brow rose accusingly. "You didn't answer my question. I thought you'd spend the day out enjoying yourself. What are ya doin' back here?"

Blythe sat on the step where her purse had been. "It's almost four. I've been gone hours. Christ, Ma, you treat me like a child."

"That's cuz ya are one. Now what brought ya back?"

"Well, if you must know, I was feeling rather anxious about Thunderboomer. I've spent time with him every day since Nate brought him here and I just didn't feel right about deserting him today."

"Thunderboomer, huh?" Mrs. Manford snorted skeptically. "Don't you suppose the blasted beast would have been fine this once with just Duke ta look after him?"

"Not really," Blythe answered, staring guilelessly back at the sly old lady, and with eyes wide and as innocent as she could make them asked, "Ma?"

Ruby had been about to turn away. "What is it, child?"

"Has anyone called? Are there any messages I need to give Nate?"

Wise old eyes turned back to look knowingly at the young redhead. "Look at you, tryin' to wheedle it out me if your husband's called, as if I wouldn't be tellin' ya right off if he had. No, child, there are no messages but don't start poutin'. The man's probably doin' his best ta hurry things along so he can get home to ya. That's the real reason you're back, isn't it? Worryin' about Nathan when there's no need to?"

"No, I'm not! I was just curious, that's all," she retorted defensively and standing, slipped her jacket back on and started for the door. "I'm going to the stables now. You go on home. That's an order."

#

"Hi, baby. How's my handsome boy?" Blythe asked, reaching up to stroke Thunderboomer's black velvet muzzle. The horse nudged against her hand. "Duke take good care of you today? Huh, baby?"

"Ah, yeah, Duke took fine care of the horse," a voce said, startling her as Thunderboomer snorted and rolled his eyes. She jerked around, peering into the black recesses of the stalls as a figure emerged from the shadows, taking a long pull from a leather covered flask.

"Joey? My God, I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"Etienne," he said with the barest hint of what was either an accent or the slurring effects brought on by the beverage he took another swig of.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Etienne, like my papa. Joseph Etienne Tupelo."

Unsure of herself, Blythe felt uncomfortable being alone in the secluded stable with this virile and obviously inebriated young man and, briefly, she was plagued by old doubts. Any man could have been her attacker all those years ago. Realizing how ridiculous that was, she shook her head to clear it, to ward off the stirrings of foreboding. This handsome dark-haired boy, who leered at her so openly with alcohol induced lust from jet-black eyes, could have been no more than a toddler at the time of her defilement.