The Men of Bitter Creek by Joan Johnston

Author:Joan Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-11-25T16:00:00+00:00

The Christmas Baby

One

The killing has to stop, Emaline thought. Somehow, someone has to make it stop.

Nobody knew how the feud between the Winthrops and the Bentons had started. But for twenty years, since before the War Between the States, the town of Bitter Creek in Nolan County, Texas, had run red with the blood of both families. The most recent victims were five-year-old Sissy Benton and fourteen-year-old Rufus Winthrop. The two family patriarchs had called a week-long truce so they could bury the dead. The Bentons attended funeral services at the Bitter Creek Baptist Church in the morning. The Winthrops took over in the afternoon.

Emaline Winthrop had lost both a father and a younger brother to the feud. At twenty-two, she had spent nearly her entire life under the cloud of animosity that existed between the two families. For the past five years a particular plot of land had been the focus of hostilities. It was an idyllic spot where a stream rimmed with pecan and cypress trees crossed a pleasant grassy valley about two miles south of town. Both Winthrops and Bentons claimed possession of the land and, more importantly, the year-round source of water for their cattle.

Emaline sat in a back pew of the church mulling over a plan to end the fierce contest over those precious acres of land. She would never have a better opportunity to suggest her idea. Today she intended to confront the family patriarch, Jeremiah Winthrop, and see what he had to say.

Emaline moved to the edge of the crowd that surrounded Rufus’s grave at the cemetery on the outskirts of Bitter Creek. Her eyes slid to a lone figure who stood vigil over yet another fresh grave. It was John Fleet, the town blacksmith. His daughter, Bethanne, had been a third victim of the cattle stampede through town that had killed Sissy Benton and Rufus Winthrop. Fleet’s face looked ravaged, and Emaline tried to imagine the pain he must be suffering. His wife had died a year ago, and now he had lost his only child. There was no rallying clan to lend him comfort in his hour of need. He was grieving alone.

Emaline hesitated a moment before walking the twenty or so steps that took her to the huge man’s side.

“Mr. Fleet?” she said quietly.

He turned to face her with red-rimmed brown eyes that seemed vacant of all feeling—until he recognized her. She recoiled at the virulent hatred that contorted his face when he spoke.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just thought you might need—”

“Get out of my sight! You Winthrops and Bentons have done enough.”

“I only wanted—”

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he spat. “Will it bring back my Bethanne?” he said in an agonized voice. “Just go away and leave me alone.”

Emaline fled, her heart wrenched by his pain, more convinced than ever that what she was about to do was right. The feud had to be stopped, not just for the sake of Winthrops and Bentons, but for the sake of everyone who lived in Bitter Creek.

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