Read Marna for Free Online Page B

to hear
it again, and grew angry. He must-still be feverish. How
could a man get hard just listening to a female voice?
    Nevertheless it had happened, and he forced himself
to shut out the voice beside the fire.
    Then Hertha was back, carrying a steaming bowl of soup in her hand and dragging a chair behind her. She
sat down and teased, "Can you feed yourself, or do you
want me to spoon it to you?"

    Matt grinned up at her. "I ain't no helpless babe.
Just let me at it."
    The soup was thick with pieces of meat and different
herbs swimming in it, and he ate greedily. Hertha
waited quietly until he had taken the edge off his
hunger. Then, folding her hands in her lap, she asked,
"Are you stayin' permanent in the settlement, Matt, or
just passin' through?"
    Matt laid down the spoon. "Me and six hunter
friends are camped a few miles from here. We plan on
spendin' the winter at least, huntin' and trappin'."
    A pleased gleam flickered in the brown eyes, and she
murmured, "I see."
    When Matt had finished the soup and handed the
bowl back to her, she inquired, "Do you have any
women in your camp?"
    Matt felt himself blush and became confused because
of it. When in the world had he blushed last? Again he
became angry with himself. Why should he care about
this strange old woman's opinion? Still he avoided her
eyes as he answered, "Just a squaw."
    "Then you're not married," Hertha stated, a sound
of relief in her voice.
    "No, ma'am. I've been lucky so far," he laughed.
    A grin, half teasing and half sympathetic, curved
Hertha's lips. "Women pester you a lot, do they? To
marry them, I mean."
    "Yeah, pretty much."
    "Well, I tell you, there's nothin' better than a good
marriage."
    "Yeah, and no worse hell than a bad one."
    A film slid over the old woman's eyes and she murmured, "Ain't that the truth."
    Matt gave a small laugh and was about to ask why
she said it so gloomily, when a heavy tread sounded on the porch. Hertha's body went tense, and he could see
her knuckles grow white as she clutched the bowl. He
leaned up on an elbow and asked, "What it it? What
has scared you?"

    Hertha placed a finger on her lips, answering in a
hushed whisper, "Shh, the old devil has come home."
She jumped to her feet and hurried to stand beside the
girl. Matt gazed wonderingly at her protective stance.
Then his glance took in the girl, whose tightly clasped
hands sought to still her trembling. He frowned darkly.
What kind of man could drive these two women into
such a fright?
    The door banged open, and there came a laugh, a
grating, ugly sound. From his dark corner Matt stared
at the drunken man who swayed in the doorway.
    Through the years Emery's way of life had dealt
harshly with him. The evil within him shone plainly on
his face and in his mean little eyes. And to add to his
debauched appearance, there was a week's growth of
whiskers on his splotched, bloated face.
    He staggered to a chair, calling loudly, "Marne, get
over here and take off my boots."
    Hertha jumped in front of the girl. "I'll do it, Emery.
Just sit there and rest," she placated.
    Emery peered up at Hertha, his bleary eyes focusing
her in. His lips curved into a sneer as his fingers came
out and sank into her bony shoulder. Ever so slowly his
grip tightened until the old woman moaned her pain.
    Matt jerked erect in the bed, his eyes searching furiously for his clothes. That bastard was crazy mean,
and he was going to hurt his wife badly if he weren't
stopped. But the girl had jumped to her feet and struck
down the man's hand. Respect for the girl's courage
surged through him. Good for you, you wild little
animal, he thought.
    Marna led Hertha to a chair, guided her down into it
and gently rubbed the bruised shoulder. The husky
voice urged, "Don't worry so about me, Grandma. I can take pretty good care of myself. You stay here now.
I'm not afraid to be around him."

    As she turned to her scowling grandfather, sprawled
in the chair,