My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter Ten

Sighing, I pulled the sketch back out. Using my pencil, I wrote 'Uncle Richard' above the man. If anything, that made the anger in Remy's eyes increase. I wrote at the top of the page "He didn't hurt me." Not seriously, anyway.

"He should not have touched you like that." Remy said each word with deliberate slowness. He was always careful to make sure I could understand him.

I hesitated and then continued writing. I think he might have killed Aunt Ruth. It was something else I hadn't told anyone. I'd barely dared to think it . Uncle Richard had been mean spirited, but had he really been capable of murder? What would he have gained from it?

"Why?" Remy asked with a frown. Bless him for keeping his questions short, making it more likely for me to understand him.

Just as I had for Father when I first arrived, I wrote out the tale of how I'd found Aunt Ruth dead. Only this time, I included what the police had said, Uncle Richard's story of how my aunt had been ill when she hadn't, and how as soon as we were alone my uncle had immediately told me I was leaving.

His expression serious, Remy read my words. He shook his head again. "Money?"

On the verge of rejecting the idea, I paused and gave it further thought. I hadn't forgotten how my aunt had told me I wouldn't be going to school because there was no money, but Father had intended to send it. Had Uncle Richard wanted to take the funds for my tuition?

"Maybe." I signed, holding my right hand flat and making a seesaw motion. Maybe Uncle Richard had demanded I be told I couldn't go to school so that he could keep the money for whatever reason and, once he thought Aunt Ruth had received it, killed her so that she couldn't change her mind.

If that was the case, the joke was on him. Father hadn't sent the money and now intended to use the money for something else.

What did Father want the money for, anyway?

"You must miss her."

Sighing, I gave a nod as my gaze went to the horizon. I did miss Aunt Ruth. She'd cared for me, protected me, since I was six years old and had no one else. She hadn't been openly affectionate but I knew she loved me. Everytime she had intervened when Uncle Richard was cruel had been proof enough.

Remy's hand curled around mine, making me look at him. "You will find your place."

Surprised, I stared at him as he squeezed my fingers. How did he know I felt out of place? He pulled his hand back and stood up. He picked up his hat, settled it on his hand, and tipped it to me before he started the walk to the barn.

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That night I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, my mind unable to rest. How would I find my place on the ranch when everyone didn't want anything to do with me? I did everything, for the most part, I was told, and it still wasn't enough.

Giving up on sleep for the moment, I stared at the ceiling. Maybe I had no place in Montana and it would be useless for me to keep fighting. But what else could I do? I had nowhere else to go and no way to get there even if I did. I had some skills, especially with sewing, but who would take on a deaf girl from nowhere?

Wonderful, negative thoughts and I couldn't stop from thinking them.

Before long, I realized light was coming up from downstairs. Father had been working on the account books when I'd climbed the ladder for bed. Was he still at work on them? My curiosity got the better of me and I got up. Wrapping my shawl around my shoulders, I went to the ladder and went downstairs.

Sure enough, Father was still at the table, the lamp burning in front of him. The account book was in front of him, and pen was in his hand. Father was slumped over with his head pillowed on his arm, fast asleep. With a smile, I tiptoed over to look over his shoulder. He hadn't finished the figures.