Page 31 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

The boardwalk was crowded. He could see Silas’s Model T parked around the corner from the store.

Silas, in the driver’s seat, appeared to be dozing.

Lucas, in the back, was looking out through the window.

At the sight of his son, Joseph felt the familiar tug at his heart.

He knew enough to keep his distance. He had no claim on the boy.

But the thought of Silas’s fist crunching into Annabeth’s soft, lovely face had ignited a blazing fire inside him. He couldn’t just get in his car, drive off, and let this go. He strode up to the car. Silas looked up as he approached. His eyes glittered with hatred.

“Get out of the car, Mosby,” Joseph said. “I’ve got something to say to you, and I don’t want to say it in front of the boy.”

After exchanging a word with Lucas, presumably telling him to stay put, Silas climbed out of the car, a hulk of a man, looming over Joseph with murder in his gaze.

Joseph was six feet tall with an athlete’s lean, muscular body.

Silas had bested him in their first encounter at the dance.

Still, in his present frame of mind, Joseph wouldn’t have hesitated to tear into the big man with his fists and do enough damage to hurt.

But there were plenty of people around. Nothing like that was going to happen here.

Silas spoke first. “Leave my wife alone, Dollarhide,” he growled. “Stay away, or you’re a dead man.”

“Shut up and listen to me, Mosby,” Joseph said.

“There’s nothing going on between your wife and me.

She’s a good woman, a lot better than you deserve.

I saw her in the store. I saw her face. I didn’t have to ask her what happened.

Are you proud of yourself, battering a defenseless woman who only wants to take care of her family? ”

“She tried to blackmail me. I gave her what she deserved. But that’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not. I’m only here to tell you one thing. If you ever hurt her again, and I hear about it, you’ll be one sorry sonofabitch.”

“Oh?” Silas sneered. “What are you going to do?”

“Think about it,” Joseph said. “I know enough about your side business to put you behind bars. I’ve kept quiet for the sake of your family, but that could change. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to lay a hand on your wife.”

Silas’s lip curled. “You think you’ve got the best of me. You and her both. But you’re the one who’ll be sorry. Leave us alone. And don’t tell me how to treat my woman. You’ll only be making trouble.”

Joseph chose to ignore the threat. “If you’re smart, you’ll learn something from this,” he said.

“Any minute now, your wife will be coming out of the store with one arm holding your daughter and the other carrying a heavy basket. Maybe you should get off your rear end and help her to the car—if you’re man enough. ”

With that, Joseph walked away and crossed the street to where he’d left his car.

When he looked back, Annabeth had come out of the store.

Just as he’d described her to Silas, she was holding onto Ellie with one hand and struggling to balance the overloaded basket with the other.

Silas leaned against the hood of the car.

With a mocking glance toward Joseph, he rolled a cigarette.

Joseph cursed, knowing that interfering would only make the situation worse. Maybe he should have left well enough alone. Somebody needed to stand up to the bully. But his actions and the threat he’d made would do nothing to help Annabeth.

The reckless part of him wanted to cross the street again, challenge Silas, and ram the big man in the gut where the bullet had struck him. The healing wound would still be tender. A solid blow would leave him writhing in agony.

But what would that do to the boy who looked up to Silas as a father—and to the woman who’d have to deal with his rage when she got him home? Joseph was out of options. All he could do was leave.

Joseph drove away with his emotions in turmoil. He would have given anything to help Annabeth and her children. But aside from keeping his distance, there was nothing he could do without making things harder for them.

He’d left Blue Moon behind by the time he remembered his lunch date with Francine.

For a moment, he weighed the idea of turning around but decided against it.

Francine would be peeved at him, but he was in no mood to enjoy a chatty lunch.

Gazing across the table at his charming companion, he would have found himself remembering Annabeth’s haunting, battered face and how the sight of her had crushed his heart.

Joseph kept on driving. He had almost reached the turnoff to the ranch when he remembered the paper that Annabeth had given him in the store. It was still in his pocket. He needed to see it now.

He swung the car onto the cutoff road and parked on the shoulder. The paper, torn from a blue-lined dime-store notepad, had been folded and creased multiple times. The writing, hastily scribbled in pencil, was hard to read, but as Joseph studied it, the message became clear.

I, Annabeth Coleman Mosby, being of sound mind, do declare this to be my last will and testament.

I have no worldly goods to leave, but I request that in the event of my inability to keep them, due to death or other cause, my children, Lucas and Elinor, be given into the custody of Joseph Dollarhide, to care for and raise as he sees fit .

Signed:

Annabeth Coleman Mosby, August 4, 1929

The breath had left Joseph’s body. He read the makeshift document again, then again, his throat swelling with emotion. That Annabeth would trust him, above all others, to care for her children, and that she would give him his son, moved him beyond any possible words.

But he was also terrified for her. Why would she write a will unless she thought she might need it? And why did she assume Silas wouldn’t get the children?

The reasons were self-evident—and they left him cold with fear.

There had to be something he could do. But short of taking her and the children by force, his hands were tied. Aside from some ugly bruises, he had no proof that Silas had threatened her life. And he knew that she would never leave him without her little ones.

Joseph could report Silas to the law for his moonshining activity. But if Silas suspected Annabeth had done it, that would put her in even more danger. He could even challenge Silas himself. But any outcome would be risky for everyone involved, including the children.

Worry twisted his gut. He read the will again, imagining the desperate courage it had taken for her to write it. He pictured her hands and her beautiful, bruised face.

Annabeth. She was his first sweetheart and the mother of his son.

He loved her.