The Family Origin

Chapter Seventy-Three: JOSEPH POV

Over the next few years, Simon was growing fast and strong, just like Jasper.

There were three nights when he was barely a year old and ran a fever. Maisie panicked. She refused to leave his side as she laid cold cloths on his forehead. When she cried and begged to bring him to a doctor, Miles dragged her away from the side of the crib. I had not seen her so rough with her since Briar was ill. He instructed me to get a coil of rope from the barn, and I listened. He kept her tied to the bed until Simon's fever broke.

Clara would have loved Simon. He was full of energy. Even when he could only crawl, Maisie would often be chasing him around the home. It was a challenge for her to manage caring for two young boys, but she loved them so much. There was so much love in our home. This was what I fantasized about when I first met her in that horrible tavern.

By the time Jasper turned eight years old, Miles brought him outside almost every day. If the weather was nice, he had Jasper doing small chores next to us. He loved feeding the chickens and collecting the eggs. Some nights, Miles would bring Simon outside with him to sit around the fire. When we would leave during the day, Simon would whine wanting to join us. It was great knowing he wanted to be outside.

We had finished our chores and were piling the split firewood along the edge of the barn, I heard a drunken slur of curse words. I looked over at Miles, but there was no change in his blank expression. I had not seen people near our property in a long time, but there was always meat for dinner. Miles was still killing, but I pretended to be naive about what he was doing to outsiders.

I picked Jasper up and placed him on my hip. Images of Clara's lifeless body on the kitchen floor filled my mind. I could not let some drunken intruder hurt my grandson. Jasper initially wiggled in my tight grip, but when he saw the dishevelled man come around the side of the barn, he stopped. He has not seen anyone outside our family since Alice came to our house when he was a baby.

The man's coat was dirty, and his shirt was splattered with stains. He muttered to himself as he ran his hands through his long and greasy hair was long and greasy. When he saw us, he stumbled over his feet. Jasper leaned his head against my shoulder and grabbed a fistful of my shirt.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

There was no reason for anyone to come near our family. There was no good reason for anyone to be near our home.

The outsider coughed when he tried to respond. It was an awful sound like he was choking on his phlegm. He stumbled a few steps closer, and the pungent smell of old whiskey filled my nose.

Miles watched the outsider, but there was no glimpse into his mind. He stood like a statue as he watched him come closer. The outsider was so drunk he could barely stand. He tripped over nothing and fell onto his knees in the grass. His attempts to stand were pathetic, but his drunken curses did not stop.

I stepped backwards, not wanting Jasper to witness what was about to happen. I had to hide him in the barn or lock him in the home with Maisie and Simon. He needed to be somewhere safe.

My movement caused Miles to look in my direction. He gave his head a slight shake, and I stopped retreating into the barn. My chest tightened, and I struggled to take in a deep breath. He did not want Jasper somewhere safe? What was he planning?

"Stay here," he said.

I looked down at Jasper. His eyes were wide as he watched the outsider and clung to my shirt.

Miles walked over to the outsider, who was continuing to struggle to get onto his feet. He was on his knees, and his hand was propping him up on the grass. Miles swung his leg, and the toe of his boot collided with the outsider's chest. He screamed as he fell onto his back. Miles placed his boot onto his chest and pinned him onto the ground. His fingers curled around his boot as he pathetically squirmed. Miles pulled his knife out of his pocket before lowering himself onto one knee.