by Kate Whitsby
Alma followed the sound of tinkling metal to the barn. She ran over to the circle of lantern light at the end of the building. Jude straightened his horse’s bridle and laid out the leather reins as if he planned to go somewhere.
“Where are you going?” Alma asked.
“I guess I’ll head back up north,” he replied. “I have friends on ranches up north of Austin who will give me work for the rest of the season. I can make enough money to keep me going until I find a more permanent position somewhere.”
Alma’s heart pounded in her ribcage. “You can’t be thinking of leaving. We just got married.”
“I told you,” Jude growled. “I won’t stay on the same patch with a man who calls me a bunch of hateful names and thinks I butchered a bunch of Confederate soldiers.”
“He’s a doddering old man,” Alma told him. “He probably can’t see well enough to recognize your face. You can’t hold this sort of thing against him. His mind doesn’t work right at the best of times. You have to make allowances for his age. He’s infirm. You shouldn’t take anything he says very seriously.”
“Is that the way you handle him?” Jude asked. “Well, I won’t excuse him for that. I don’t care how old or infirm he is. If he can’t control himself, he shouldn’t be allowed to interfere with normal people’s lives. And if he’s that mentally unsound, then maybe he shouldn’t be in the house with the rest of us. He should be put out by himself where he won’t trouble anyone with his ranting and raving.”
“We can’t put him out,” Alma maintained. “He’s our own father.”
“And you can put me out instead?” Jude returned. “Very well, then. You keep him and I’ll go.”
“Please don’t leave, Jude,” Alma pleaded. “I’m your wife. Stay with me. I’ll deal with Papa for you.”
“And how will you deal with him?” Jude shot back. “What exactly will you do about these accusations he’s making?”
“I won’t do anything,” Alma told him. “I’ll pretend this never happened. You and I will go back into the house and finish our supper. Papa will go back to his chair by the fire if he hasn’t already. And the rest of us will continue to live our lives without the least thought about his accusations.”
“You can’t just ignore this sort of behavior,” Jude insisted. “You have to make a stand against it now. Otherwise, you’re just encouraging it and it will have it going on all the time.”
“You sound like you’re dealing with a child,” Alma pointed out. “He’s an old man. You can’t just whip him and send him to bed. You have to indulge him a little bit.”
“Indulge him?” Jude sneered. “And what about me? Are you going to indulge me by whipping him?”
“I can’t whip him,” Alma replied. “He’s my father.”
“Why don’t you indulge me by telling him you won’t put up with this ridiculous behavior?” Jude continued. “Why do you support him and not me?”
“I am supporting you,” Alma insisted. “I’m telling you that if we ignore it, if we act as if it doesn’t exist, it won’t exist.”
Jude scowled toward the house. “He’s an old fool if he thinks I did anything in the war. All these old veterans—all they ever think about is the blasted war.”
“You have to admit,” Alma remarked. “He must have some reason to feel as strongly as he does. Something must have set him off to make him think you were there.”
Jude started back. “Don’t tell me you believe him! Don’t tell me you think there’s any truth to his story. That would be the icing on the cake, if you turned against me and started thinking I was holding anything back.”
“I’m just saying,” Alma explained. “You’re acting like you do have something to hide. You’re acting as irrationally as he is, and you won’t even talk to him to clear the matter up. It doesn’t do anything for your claims of innocence. That’s all I’m saying.”
Jude waved his arms around in a wild gesture of desperation. “I wasn’t even born when the war was going on!” he shouted. “How could I do the things he says I did? My parents hadn’t even met back then.”
“Then why don’t you just tell him that?” Alma pointed toward the house. “Just tell him exactly what you just told me. We can clear all this up in a couple of minutes, and then we can all go on with our happy lives.”
“No, I won’t,” Jude grumbled. “I won’t waste two minutes of my precious time explaining myself to such a fool as him.”
Alma crossed her arms over her chest. “Then you can’t expect him or me or anyone else to take your word for your innocence, can you?”
“You’re my wife,” Jude shot back. “You’re supposed to support me, no matter what. You’re supposed to defend me against everyone else.”
“I told you before,” Alma snapped. “I am supporting you. I’m telling you how to clear this up so he’ll never be able to say anything against you again. But you won’t do it. And you stand there and call him a fool!”
“If you believe him,” Jude declared. “If you honestly think there’s any chance I could have done the things he thinks I did, then I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Go back to your family and leave me alone. I’ll go home to the people who want to believe in me.”
Alma narrowed her eyes. “Just like that, huh? Well, goodbye, and good riddance to bad rubbish!” She spun away and stomped toward the door of the barn.
Jude jumped away from his horse and caught Alma by the arm. “Alma, wait!”
Alma whirled on him with her black eyes flashing. “If you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, that I believe you’re innocent and we can make everyone else believe it, too, with just a few words from you to explain your situation, then you’re too stupid to be married. If you would throw me away just like that, without even trying to explain your position to him and my sisters, then I don’t want anything to do with you, either. You can go back to Austin or Amarillo, or wherever you want to go. I don’t care. Let me go and get out of here!”
She yanked her arm back, but he held her fast. “Alma, wait!”
Chapter 25