The Family Origin

Chapter Forty-Seven: JOSEPH POV

Miles and I had fought over who left the barn door open overnight. Both of our tempers had been short over the past few days, so I walked away before we started raising our voices. We were hungry from the lack of meat, and we were finding any excuse to fight with each other. There were only the three of us now, so we could not afford to be angry. We all needed each other.

While sitting on the steps of the front porch after walking away from the argument, I heard the carriage approaching our home. The horse's hooves were loud as the carriage came up the path. I stood and brushed the dirt off my pants.

I had not seen Oliver Thatcher since we were banned from the church years ago. He had grown a few inches taller and lost the baby fat from his cheeks. I had received another letter from him yesterday but hid it from Miles. It was even angrier, but not worth stressing Miles out because I doubted Oliver would come to our home. He had always been a spineless coward who hid behind Vincent and his money. I did not believe he would have the bravery to come onto our property and accuse this family of terrible things.

"What do you want, Oliver?" I asked as I went down the steps and onto the grass.

Oliver climbed out of the carriage and stormed toward me. The Thatchers always had more money than us, but Oliver looked ridiculous on our farm. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, and I spotted an expensive watch on his wrist and a gold ring around his finger. The Thatchers never had to work hard. This was all an act. His fists were clenched at his side as he stormed over, but he would never throw a punch. He was trying to scare a confession out of me so he could go to the police. Just like Vincent, he wanted to tear my family apart.

"What do I want?" Oliver asked. "Joseph, do not play dumb with me. I know that you have received my letters."

Oliver raised his voice louder as he spoke. I straightened my posture as I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to let him believe he was intimidating me. He had so much of Vincent in him, and it made me cringe. He inherited his father's condescending tone and sarcastic attitude. He was making problems for himself by coming to our home. Once Miles saw him at our home, there was no way he would survive. He would not be able to go to the police.

"You should not be here," I said.

"I am not going anywhere until you answer my questions," Oliver said. "All of my questions. I know you have something to do with my Father's disappearance."

"Why would you think that?"

Oliver's nostrils flared, and his jaw hardened. I kept my posture straight but curled my fingers into my biceps as my heart pounded in my chest. Hopefully, he did not notice the small movement. If Oliver believed we were the reason for Vincent's disappearance, did anyone else suspect us? How long could we keep his death a secret? If Oliver went missing, would we be any more suspicious? Edith had other children. Would any of them be foolish enough to come here?

Oliver was the first one to break eye contact. His eyes narrowed as he looked over my shoulder. I glanced behind me to see Miles walking around the house. The only flicker of emotion on Miles' face when he saw Oliver was the crease between his brows. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he came forward.

Miles would not let Oliver leave this property alive. He understood the risks to the family.

"Oliver." I tried to regain his attention, but he continued to glare at Miles. "Oliver, look at me."

"What happened to my Father?" Oliver asked. "What did you do to him?"

"We did nothing to him. I overheard he went missing weeks ago. Someone at the store mentioned something about an animal attack."