Thursdays Tempest

Sometimes life doesn't go as planned.

Poor Dobson Winters, lost his wife in a horrible accident. Now, the father of the man who caused it makes a dire prediction about his soul....

"Hush," came the command followed by a wheeze. "I don't have much time." The old man's eyes narrowed on him. "Maybe you don't either. Hate is something' that eats at a man. It leaves his soul blacker than the darkest night. A soul like that is damned forever. Now, my life ain't been no bed of roses, but I did my best. My boy went wrong and you were in your right to send him away, even though it killed my Mary. I might have forgiven you, however, she lost her heart and no amount of coaxing brought her back.

I watched you and your Miranda. Every day I prayed the good Lord would hurt you just like you hurt me. Then when they died, I watched you suffer. I thought, good, an eye for an eye, since you took my boy, my wife," he swallowed. "But there twernt no satisfaction in it only thing it did was make the hole bigger."

As he listened to the words, Dobson felt the wash of cold water washed over him. Anger made his body tremble with rage. He should get up and leave. He should let the door slam as he walked out. Yet, he couldn't.

"I watched you, a strong man, curl and wither like a crop with blight. Now, the only thing I got for you is pity. You've become a bitter excuse for a man, Dobson Winters and I thought more of you than that."

He tried to find words to say, yet what Curtis said was closer to the truth than any man wanted to admit.

"Now, I'm dying. There won't be no more tomorrows, no spring sunshine, or marvels of first snow. I ain't got much to leave, but I got me a pearl of great worth. Somethin' few men have and I'm gonna leave it to you."

"I don't need your parting gifts," he snapped.

Curtis Watson had the audacity to chuckle. "No damn you, you don't, but I'm gonna give you a choice." In a flash, his hand snaked out. Cold fingers akin to the grim reaper grabbed his. For a dying man, Watson's grip proved firm. "Holly's coming home. She's driving a wagon across the switchback from the Fort Worth trail."

Dobson's eyes grew wide. "That trail's full of danger. Your daughter's got no damn business-"

"You'll find her and she'll make it. This winter's gonna be a rough one. You're gonna need my hundred fifty acres of grass. We both know it's some of the best land in the valley."

His mouth watered. The old man was right. His land would lead to conflict with his male heir in prison. "What do you want me to do? Buy it? I can set your daughter up in a good house." He stared as the old man shook his head.

"No, I told you- eye for an eye."

A tingle ran up his spine, he could almost feel that second foot falling, crushing his heart in the process. Confused he stared at the man on the bed and waited.

"I won't go to my death condemning a man to eternal damnation."

"I'm not understanding."

"To get my land, you gotta woo my daughter. Marry her, Winters."

"Marry her!"

"I'm gonna save your soul, damn you. Whether you like it or not. You got till the New Year. I've filled the papers all legal with the judge."

"You- you can't." He struggled to remove his hand. But, the old man seemed to want to pull him into the grave with him. The more he struggled, the tighter his grip became. Dobson rose to his feet. "I won't do it!" he bellowed. "I swore I'd never marry again."

"You will," Watson glared back. "I won't have your soul on my conscience. You'll marry my Holly and come back to the living or be forced to walk this earth for eternity searching for love."

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