The Edge of Hell: The Mitchell Brothers Series Book One

15

November arrived with an ominous, stormy cold that seeped deep into Wolstan's bones. It made him appreciate the roof over his head and warm, dry clothes to wear—a stark difference from his deplorable condition a year ago.

But winter was the least of his worries, he soon realized as the first week passed and the day Declan had anxiously been waiting for arrived amidst a deluge of thunder and rain.

"Perhaps you best do it out in the barn," Emmaline said, frowning. "I don't want plaster all over the dining room floor."

"Mama," Declan complained, perched between his crutches and staring at her as though she'd sprouted a second head on her shoulders. "Do you despise me that much that you would cast me out into a storm to have my leg cut off by an old sawbones?"

"Fortunate for you, it stopped raining twenty minutes ago, dear," Emmaline chuckled. "But you might want to still wear your coat. It is chilly."

"I don't know what I should be more offended by," Emerson grumbled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Being referred to as old or a sawbones."

"Definitely a sawbones," Wolstan softly laughed, "as we all know it to be false."

"Once again, you've proven why you're my favorite nephew, Wooly."

Declan leveled a playful scowl at them, then returned his attention to Emmaline. "Do you hear them making fun of my mental anguish when I'm about to lose a limb?"

She arched a brow and plopped her fists on her hips, her mouth twitching with mirth. "At least outside, the mess of any accidental dismemberment will be easier to clean up, honey."

Emerson laughed and kissed Emmaline on the lips. "Quite true and practical, my dear. I couldn't agree more."

"You're both heartless," Declan grumbled, "no wonder you fell in love with each other."

"And in any event," Emmaline giggled, "Emerson wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of saving your leg these many months only to lop it off now, so I do believe you're quite safe, my dear."

Wolstan laughed as he shook his head, shoved the last bit of his sweet roll in his mouth, and then licked the icing from his fingers.

"If you're a good boy and keep the cussing to a minimum, you can come to town with us when you're done," Emmaline continued with a teasing grin as she patted Declan's left cheek.

Declan's face perked up with sincere interest, and he turned to Emerson. "Am I actually going to be able to walk on it like normal?"

"You might need a cane, but we'll see," Emerson said, motioning him down the hall with his medical bag and several tools in hand.

After covering a yawn, Wolstan scratched his head and walked to the staircase. However, he stopped to glance at his mama when she said, "You're not going with them, Wooly? I thought you'd want to watch."

"I'm tired," he murmured. "Didn't get much sleep with the storm raging against my windows."

"I suppose this means you won't be going with us into town either?" Emmaline approached and brushed the hair off his forehead, then kissed him on the cheek.

"No. I'll let Declan have all the excitement."

Emmaline giggled. "That's awful magnanimous of you; I'll make sure he brings home a licorice whip to show his appreciation."

"I look forward to it," Wolstan chuckled. Then he took the stairs two at a time up to his room, stopping in his tracks at the top when his eyes collided with Mae's. "Morning."

"Is it still? Morning, that is," she said, fidgeting with the fringe of the mustard yellow shawl draped around her shoulders.

She stood halfway between her room and his, wearing a long-sleeved navy plaid gown adorned with a row of tarnished brass buttons down the front of the bodice.