Brazing by Lila Felix

Author:Lila Felix [Felix, Lila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00NR5D7UA
Published: 2014-09-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Bridger

The walk of shame in the movies was nothing compared to what I was about to endure. With West’s loud and proud announcement, I would now have to face my entire family, red-faced and humiliated beyond reprieve.

“Where is he?” I demanded with a growl, entering the kitchen.

“We have comp’ny, Bridger.” Stockton drawled.

“Didn’t a good hanging used to serve as entertainment around here? It’s gonna be dinner and a show tonight because I’m gonna hang him up by his…”

“Kill your brother after dinner please. At least have the decency to wait until the preacher is gone.” Cami giggled.

Preacher grumbled from his seat at the table. “If he makes it through the meal.” That earned him an arm pinch by his wife who smiled graciously throughout all the family drama. Cami bustled in the kitchen humming to herself, so proud of whatever noxious concoction she’d prepared.

We needed a chef in the family.

“Wash up you two.” Willa pulled something from the oven and motioned toward me and someone behind me. I knew the touch as soon as I felt it. Tate’s lissome fingers danced along the inside of my palm for an instant, clueing me into her presence behind me. At the kitchen sink, she bumped my hip more than once trying to get me to loosen up. For her sake, I did.

We all took seats at the table when Stockton called out, “Come on West. I took Bridger’s knife. He’s gonna let you have one last supper.”

West crept out slowly from the broom closet and made Willa move over so he could sit as far away from me as possible. That wouldn’t help him one bit because as soon as he sat down I pictured myself vaulting over the table and taking him down with my hands around his throat. Then I’d feed him to the pigs.

Not really. I loved my brother.

Mostly.

Anyway, I wouldn’t kill him until the preacher was gone.

Stockton cleared his throat and filled the silence. “Preacher, won’t you bless the meal?”

We all stifled a chuckle at Preacher’s uncharacteristic shudder. Of course, as a minister, he’d never shied away from praying, but he looked particularly wary of praying over the dishes that Cami was placing on the table.

“Lord in heaven. We pray that the talk around the table be a blessing to our souls and the meal—um—sit well in our stomachs. In Jesus’ name. Amen.” We all resounded a unified Amen.

Poor Cami. She doled out the food with such pride. Her main dish looked like it was supposed to be chicken pot pie, but the crust was tougher than road pavement and the middle was cold.

“Enjoy everybody!” She cheerfully clapped her hands and dug in.

I watched Stockton’s face as he was the second to take a bite, but soon realized I couldn’t trust him when it came to Cami’s cooking. I didn’t know if he looked over the flaw to keep the peace or because he was in so deep that he didn’t see it at all.

We all managed

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