When the Heavens Fall (2 page)

“Get out of that bed!” Stuart Winslow grabbed his son's hair and pulled him up and out of his slumber

Instinctively Brandon launched a blow; and his fist hit Stuart in the chest

Stuart shook him, furious now that the boy would not wake. “Why, you dare to strike your own father, do you?”

Brandon groggily said, “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to hit you. You scared me.”

“You were never scared of anything in your life, Brandon! I wish to heaven you were!” Stuart Winslow studied his son.
Will he ever grow up?
“Get dressed!” he commanded. He stared at his son a long moment, then said angrily, “What kind of blood has come down to you, Brandon? Some northman raider, if not worse.” He was irritated at how long it was taking for the boy to dress. “Come. Quickly.”

“Where are we going?”

“To face your sins,” Stuart said over his shoulder. He left the room, closely followed by his son and the big dog. He took the stairs two at a time. Reaching the ground floor, he found his wife, Heather, waiting for them. She was forty-one but could have passed for ten years younger. She was a woman of quiet spirit, but now there was fear in her eyes. No doubt she saw the anger in his own. They'd had a good marriage and still loved each other deeply, but Brandon had become a problem that neither one of them could solve

“Will you be able to make it right with Elwald?” she asked, following them toward the great hall

“I doubt it.” He stared at Brandon and asked harshly, “Didn't you know James Elwald would come for you, boy?”

Brandon looked surprised, caught but not overly concerned. Stuart took a firmer hold of his son's arm, knowing what he was thinking. “I've gotten you out of trouble many times, but you'll pay up this time!”

As soon as the three entered the great hall, Stuart saw two female servants who were replacing the stale rushes on the floor with new ones. He didn't miss the sly grins they didn't bother to conceal.
They know well what Brandon is like. Has he been sniffing around them, too?

Up ahead, in the middle of the great hall, Stuart's brother, Quentin Winslow, waited for them. He was thirty-three. With the same blue eyes and auburn hair, he bore a striking resemblance to Stuart and Brandon

“A little trouble, Brother?” He fell into step with them

“A little? This whelp tried lifting the skirts of Elwald's daughter!”

Quentin had been a rough enough young man himself in his youth, but he had found God and was now preaching the gospel. He said nothing, but there was grief in his eyes as he looked at his nephew. “I'm sorry to hear that, Stuart.”

“Not as sorry as he'll be!” Stuart snapped. Grasping Brandon's
arm again, he hauled him toward the two men who were waiting for them at the end of the hall. “Here's the boy, sheriff.”

Albert Fortner, the local sheriff, was a rather small man but well built. He had a smooth face and a pair of watchful gray eyes. “Sorry to disturb you over this problem, Lord Winslow.”

“A problem? You call it a
problem
?” James Elwald shouted. His face was flushed with anger. He gestured at Brandon. “That's him! He tried to rape my girl Becky, and when I tried to help her, he tried to kill me. Arrest him, sheriff!”

“Be quiet, Elwald. I'll handle this,” the sheriff said. He kept his voice soft and said, “As you just heard, Elwald wishes to press charges against your son for certain advances upon his daughter and for attacking him as well.”

“Don't you deny it, either!” Elwald shouted. “You've ruined young girls in this county before!”

Stuart turned to stare at Brandon, his face set in a hard expression. “Did you try to rape that girl, boy?”

“No. I was just stealing a kiss.” Brandon stared with impudence at Elwald. “And I'm not the first to have done it.”

The sheriff had to hold James Elwald back. “Did you hit this man with a staff?” he asked

“Yes, I did. I'd do it again, too,” Brandon said defiantly. “He hit me first!”

Stuart stared at his son and could feel his wife watching him. He knew she wanted him to protect Brandon, but there was only so much he could do or wanted to do this time

“Elwald, the boy's guilty. I'll let you decide what to do with him. You've always been a good man. I've been proud of you and your work, and if you want to charge him, I won't fight you in court, and there'll be no hard feelings on my part. But I see no reason for the court or the sheriff to be in the middle of this. If you want to settle this matter between the two of us, I'll see you get fair play.”

James Elwald's face softened as he thought over his master's
words. He had worked for the Winslows for several years and most certainly didn't want to endanger his position. But a man had to stand up for his daughter. Winslow understood that

“The boy deserves punishment, but I'd get no pleasure, sir, in seeing him in jail. You always treat a man fair. I think we can settle this between us man to man, father to father.”

“Good,” Stuart said with a nod. “Shall we discuss this in the next room?”

“Well, that's best, I think,” Sheriff Fortner said. “I wish you good day.”

Stuart led Fortner and Elwald out of the great hall, leaving Brandon alone with his mother and his uncle

“You've disappointed your father, and me too, Son,” Heather said

“Why, Mother, it was nothing. I was just playing.”

“I think it was more than that.”

“Your mother's right, Brandon,” Quentin said. “I think you've gone too far.”

Brandon could rise to any challenge, but he obviously did not want to hurt his mother. He dropped his head, unable to respond

The three waited until the two men came back

Stuart said, “Brandon, apologize to Elwald.”

“No, sir, I won't do it. He hit me first.”

Stuart stared at his son and shook his head. “But, Son, can't you see your own wrong? What about Becky? What about—” He paced away and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before turning back. “All right then. It will have to be the hard way. I'm going to thrash you, and you're going to work for Elwald for one month. If you take one step toward his daughter or show any insolence to Elwald or cause him any other difficulty, I've ordered him to tell me. I'll thrash you again, and your
thirty days will start again at day one. Now, come and take your beating.”

James Elwald watched the two go and then turned to face Lady Heather and Quentin. “I'm sorry it came to this. But I got to look out for my daughter. She's got a wild streak in her, I'm afraid.”

Heather whispered, “And so has my son.” It hurt her to think of Stuart whipping Brandon. He had not done so for some time now but had tried kindness and other methods, all to no avail

When Stuart and Brandon came back, Brandon's face, Heather saw, was pale as paste, and he moved like an old man

Stuart's face was set. “Take him, Elwald. Bring him back in thirty days—not before.”

Quentin understood that Stuart and Heather needed no company at this time. “Send for me if you need me,” he said

After Quentin left, Stuart turned to Heather. “Do you hate me for whipping him?”

“No, I love you, Husband, as I always have. We've tried everything else. Maybe this will change him,” she said sadly

Stuart chewed his lower lip, a nervous habit he had when he was disturbed. Finally he put his arm around Heather and led her away. As they moved out of the great hall, he said, “I thought having a son would be the joy of my life—as he once was—but he's a grief to us now.”

Heather stopped, turned, and took his hands in hers. “I gave our son to God on the day he was born. We'll believe that God will bring him out of this. Brandon
will
find God! The good Lord will not let his gifts fall to the ground.”

Stuart glanced up from his book to stare at his wife, waiting at the window. Heather stood beside the tall arch looking out through the wavy glass. He knew she looked not to the green hills but to the empty road, awaiting Brandon's return. It had been a long month without their son

Stuart looked about their room. He had spared no expense in making it as attractive as possible. He had even had a fireplace built to drive away the cold and lessen his wife's homesickness for the cozy cottage they'd shared when newly married

Heather straightened and leaned closer to the window. “Stuart, look! Elwald is bringing Brandon home.”

Stuart put the book down and came over to her at once. Together they watched the two figures approach in a horse-drawn wagon—tiny in the distance. “I hope he's all right. It was a hard thing for him.”

“I'm sure it was a good thing in the end,” Heather replied. “Come,” she said with excitement. “Let's go down and welcome him home.”

They descended to the first level then hurried out the massive door. As they stepped outside, Brandon leaped from the wagon. His mother ran to him. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “I'm so glad you're home, Son.”

“It's good to be here, Mother.” The words were almost without emotion, but he added, “I've missed you.”

Stuart had waited, giving Heather time to greet him, now he stepped forward and said, “Welcome home, Son. I hope things go better from here on.”

“Thank you.” The words were spare, and there was a bitter expression on his face, which troubled his father

Stuart turned and walked over to where Elwald was waiting. “Thank you for bringing him home, Elwald.”

“No trouble, sir. No trouble at all.”

“Did he give you any problems?”

“Well, not really, sir. He done all the work I put him to, and he done it well. It's only that . . .”

“Elwald? It's only what?”

Elwald looked him in the eye. “Something's off with the boy now. It's like he's all froze up or something.” He turned away, as if sorry he'd said anything at all

“Did he make another advance to your daughter? Did you have to beat him?”

“Not a bit of it, sir.” He shook his head. “Didn't look at my girl, not even once.” He shrugged. “Probably just wanted to get the thirty days done and get home.”

Stuart followed his gaze to Brandon and Heather, who were waiting at the entrance, quietly talking. “Yes, probably,” he agreed. But he knew that neither he nor Elwald believed it. “Well, I'm glad you had no trouble with him. I hope you won't hold it against him.”

Turning, Stuart walked over to where Brandon was standing beside his mother. “Let's go inside. I'll tell the cook to fix a special meal. We're celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” Brandon asked, fixing his eyes on his father

“Why, to have you home, of course,” Heather said quickly. “Come along. You and I will talk to the cook.”