50Author's Note: "The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names."
"An illegitimate child is one born to parents who are unmarried at the time of his birth. In the past, such a child was legally known as a 'filius nullius' or 'child of no one.'"
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, except in the sense that love is ownership. The legal opinions expressed in this story are designed for dramatic and entertainment purposes only and are not intended to take the place of the advice of an attorney licensed to practice in your state.
Snuggling up in bed obediently, Heath asked for his favorite story. "Tell me about Mr. Barkley, Momma."
Leah smiled at her son, and ran a hand gently through his golden hair. "He was the kindest man I ever met, and the gentlest, and the strongest. Even when he was bad hurt, he was very loving, never harsh or mean."
"When I grow up, will I be like him?"
She touched the tip of her index finger to the tip of her son's nose. "You're already like him, sweetheart."
"Is that why I have his name?"
She leaned down to kiss him. "That's why you have his name."
Don Alfredo Montero had refused to shake his hand.
Heath had wondered what he could possibly have done to offend someone he'd never met, but he wasn't long finding out: "To keep a line pure is a sacred trust."
His offense was not anything he'd done, but what he was. And that wasn't something he could change. So he stood silently, watching the blood of the dead bull soak into the ground, until Nick made him walk away.
"You want to tell me about it, Leah?" Rachel Caulfield asked her friend as they sat drinking 'silver tea.'
"About what?"
"Whatever's bothering you."
Leah sighed and set down her cup. "It's Heath."
"Heath?"
Leah nodded. "I—" she paused, eying her friend. "Don't take this wrong, Rachel, but you don't know what it's like being a mother."
"No, I don't," the older woman agreed. "Can you tell me?"
Leah's left hand came up to run gentle fingers across her lips, before white teeth bit nervously into the lower one. "You have to be tough, sometimes. Cruel even." She licked her lips. "For his own good."
Rachel waited but Leah said nothing further. She wondered if she should leave it alone, but her friend seemed so troubled. "And you had to be tough on Heath?"
Leah nodded. "I whipped him this morning."
Rachel considered. She picked up a biscuit and took a bite while she considered what to reply. "It's not the first time you've had to," she pointed out.
"No," her friend agreed, "but it's the first time…" Her words trailed off, and she ran her tongue along the back of her teeth.
"What?" Rachel prompted.
"It's the first time I regretted it."
Rachel found Hannah at her laundry tub.
"How Miss Leah doing now?" Competent hands rubbed a soapy garment against the washboard to loosen the dirt.
"She's fine, Hannah," her mistress answered distractedly. "Have you seen Heath?"
"Sho did. Washed his lil' mouth out with soap for him, too."
Rachel blinked. "Why?"
Hannah looked away before muttering darkly, "Said something no boy should say about his momma, 'specially when she a good woman like Miss Leah."
Rachel ran Heath to earth skipping stones across the creek. He threw and his stone hopped once, twice, three times, then went under. He skipped a second, two hops. A third hopped only once.
The fourth stone he just threw down into the water. A fifth, harder. A sixth.
Heath stooped to pick something up, and Rachel saw him raise a big rock high over his head. He smashed it down into the creek, and a smile lit the five-year-old face for a moment at the big splash it made.
Then he burst into tears.
Rachel hadn't known what she was going to say to him until she heard the sound of her voice ringing out sternly, "Are you a little baby then, Heath, that runs away to cry? Or are you a big boy, who can take his licks and learn from them?"
Heath whirled, wide-eyed with alarm, and wiped his tears with grubby hands. "I'm a big boy," the treble voice piped hastily.
"I thought you were," she reassured him. She sat down on the creek bank and waited for him to sit next to her. She watched the water purling in the stream, its gurgle soothing in her ears.
Heath flung himself down next to her. "Ow!" He shot her a sheepish look and sniffed. He wiped his eyes again furtively. He wished he'd sat down more carefully. He licked his lips and winced at the acrid taste of soap that was still in his mouth, though he'd rinsed it out with creek water as best he could. But that wasn't the worst. He bend his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The worst was inside. He was bad. Momma said so!
A bullfrog croaked nearby. Birds chirped. The stream bubbled merrily around the rock he'd thrown into it.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" Rachel asked quietly.
Heath bit his lip. He had told Hannah, and Hannah had been as mad as Momma. If he told Aunt Rachel, there wouldn't be anyone who wasn't mad at him! He kept quiet and looked at the stream.
Aunt Rachel didn't say anything either.
Heath slid a cautious glance over to see if she was angry he hadn't replied. She was looking at the creek. Maybe it was safe. "Momma sent me into town with the pies." He whispered. "When I got to the hotel, Aunt Martha came out and said she wanted one."
Rachel waited, then ventured an encouragement. "And?"
"And I went inside the lobby with her so she could pick one." Heath took a breath. "But she didn't want to pay for it. Said Momma should give one to Uncle Matt for free." Heath ran a nervous hand through his hair. "And I told her I was supposed to sell them, so if she wasn't going to pay for it, she needed to give it back to me." Heath shook his head angrily. "I'm not even supposed to go in there," he muttered, resting his head against his palms.
"So what happened? Did she give it back to you?" Rachel tried hard to keep her voice gentle, even while thinking, 'Drat the woman, why does she have to plague a little boy so?'
Heath was clearly worried by the sharp tone, but answered anyway. "No, she didn't, but Uncle Matt came in and said he'd give me the money... and when he brought it, one of the men staying there asked who I was." Heath stopped, as if that were the end of the story.
Rachel didn't think it was. "What did your Uncle Matt say?"
"That I was his sister's b— somethin' I'm not 'lowed to say."
Rachel gasped and Heath looked at her glumly, wondering if she was going to box his ears now. He hadn't said it. He sniffed again, and studied the crown of the cottonwood on the opposite bank of the creek. "I've heard… the word he used… before, but I—well, I didn't know those other men that said it, but this was Uncle Matt, so I asked…. I asked him, 'What's a—that word?'… and he said I should ask Momma."
"And did you?"
"Yeah."
"And what did she say?"
"She said that was what I was, but not to ever say it, 'cause it's a bad word." White teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, just as his mother's had earlier.
Rachel's brow furrowed, "That's all she said?"
He nodded.
"Then what happened?"
"Then I said 'If I am a … one of those words, I don't see how come I can't say it!' … 'cept I actually said it again." He looked at her sorrowfully, waiting for her to make his condemnation universal. She did not disappoint.
"Oh, Heath!" Rachel's disapproval was implicit in her tone. "You knew better than to say that….Is that why she whipped you?"
"Yeah." He brooded for a moment, then continued, "But I still wanted to know what it meant, so I figured I'd just ask Hannah."
"And she soaped your mouth."
"Uh-huh." He spit on the side away from Rachel. It didn't help.
"So what have you learned?"
"Not what—" Abruptly, he changed his mind about what he'd been going to say. He was not interested in taking a third punishment. "Not to say that word," he amended, looking back at the water.
She had hoped to ease his hurt, but he seemed, if anything, even more upset than when she'd first sat down.
"What is it, boy?"
Heath turned to face her, agony and desperation in the limpid blue eyes. "Momma said that bad word is what I am." He pulled at the front of his shirt to emphasize that it was himself he meant, and asked forlornly, "Aunt Rachel, am I something bad?"
