Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
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- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- fifty-two
- fifty-three
- fifty-four
- fifty-five
- fifty-six
- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- sixty-one
- epilogue
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
- Prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- epilogue
- Sean Donovan
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Visalia and Santa Rosa Families—1876
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
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- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
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- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Willits and Santa Rosa Families—1881
- Dear Marcail
- prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- fifty-two
- fifty-three
- fifty-four
- fifty-five
- fifty-six
- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
Charlies eyes darted to the window. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he was usually so rough with things, but then she remembered how old the curtains were. They had been hanging there since her grandfather was alive.
It doesnt matter. Here. She threw the sheets onto the bed. Suppers in half an hour. On those words she exited, closing the door behind her.
twelve
Sean continued to stand next to the window, the events of the day going once again through his mind until a hunger pain tore at his stomach. The pain was impetus enough to cause him to move. Not wanting to dwell on the hours he had just lived through, he decided to make the bed.
He found himself mentally thanking his brother-in-law, Rigg, for the months he had lived with him. Rigg had taught him to take care of himself. Prior to that, his mother, and then his aunt, had seen to everything.
No water had been offered to Sean in jail beyond that which hed been given to drink. So when the bed was finally made, and he noticed a pitcher and bowl on the dresser, he decided to find some water and have a quick wash. It couldnt really compare with a bath, but it would have to suffice and would certainly make him more presentable at supper.
Seans door squeaked as it opened. Carrying the pitcher, he stepped tentatively into the hallway and walked softly out to the main room of the house where he stood looking around. There was no sign of his wife.
He noticed for the first time a large stove in the corner with wood stacked nearby. The kitchen table, appearing to be about four feet square, was made of oak and had four matching chairs.
Sean discovered that a doorway off the kitchen led to the living room. It had a long sofa and one overstuffed chair. There was a small table stacked with a few old newspapers, and all the furniture sat on an old, braided rug.
After a superficial inspection of both rooms, Sean looked more closely in the kitchen for a container of water. He had circled the room twice and figured hed have to ask his wife or go without.
He turned to head down the hall and nearly dropped the pitcher he was carrying when he found Charlie standing just inside the room watching him.
Is there a problem?
I was looking for some water. Sean gestured with the pitcher before noticing the shotgun in her hand and changing his mind about needing water. I was going to have a quick wash, but it can wait.
His voice dropped on these last words; his whole body tensed. He wanted to move past her, but she was blocking his path and he wasnt about to do anything to make her use that gun. He stood still and waited.