Montgomery called to him. "Here, son! Drink your toast to the bride."
"I've got to get supper."
"Nonsense! Here's your glass. Hurry up."
Montgomery had poured a finger of amber liquid into the glass; his own glass was half full and that of his bride at least a third. Max accepted it and went to the pail, thinned it with a dipper of water.
"You'll ruin it."
"I'm not used to it."
"Oh, well. Here's to the blushing bride--and our happy family! Bottoms up!"
Max took a cautious sip and put it down. It tasted to him like the bitter tonic the district nurse had given him one spring. He turned back to his work, only to be interrupted again. "Hey, you didn't finish it."
"Look, I got to cook. You don't want me to burn supper, do you?"
Montgomery shrugged. "Oh, well--the more for the rest of us. We'll use yours for a chaser. Sonny boy, when I was your age I could empty a tumbler neat and then stand on my hands."
Max had intended to sup on side meat and warmed-over biscuits, but there was only half a pan left of the biscuits. He scrambled eggs in the grease of the side meat, brewed coffee, and let it go at that. When they sat down Montgomery looked at it and announced, "My dear, starting tomorrow I'll expect you to live up to what you told me about your cooking. Your boy isn't much of a cook." Nevertheless he ate heartily. Max decided not to tell him that he was a better cook than Maw--he'd find out soon enough.
Presently Montgomery sat back and wiped his mouth, then poured himself more coffee and lighted a cigar. Maw said, "Maxie, dear, what's the dessert?"
"Dessert? Well--there's that ice cream in the freezer, left over from Solar Union Day."
She looked vexed. "Oh, dear! I'm afraid it's not there."
"Huh?"
"Well, I'm afraid I sort of ate it one afternoon when you were out in the south field. It was an awfully hot day."
Max did not say anything, he was unsurprised. But she was not content to leave it. "You didn't fix any dessert, Max? But this is a _special_ occasion."
Montgomery took his cigar out of his mouth. "Stow it, my dear," he said kindly. "I'm not much for sweets, I'm a meat-and-potatoes man--sticks to the ribs. Let's talk of pleasanter things." He turned to Max. "Max, what can you do besides farm?"
Max was startled. "Huh? I've never done anything else. Why?"
Montgomery touched the ash of the cigar to his plate. "Because you are all through farming."
For the second time in two hours Max had more change than he could grasp. "Why? What do you mean?"
"Because we've sold the farm."
Max felt as if he had had a rug jerked out from under him. But he could tell from Maw's face that it was true. She looked the way she always did when she had put one over on him--triumphant and slightly apprehensive.
"Dad wouldn't like that," he said to her harshly. "This land has been in our family for four hundred years."
"Now, Maxie! I've told you I don't know how many times that I wasn't cut out for a farm. I was city raised."
"Clyde's Corners! Some city!"
"It wasn't a farm. And I was just a young girl when your father brought me here--you were already a big boy. I've still got my life before me. I can't live it buried on a farm."
Max raised his voice. "But you promised Dad you'd ..."
"Stow it," Montgomery said firmly. "And keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to your mother--and to me."
Max shut up.
"The land is sold and that's that. How much do you figure this parcel is worth?"
"Why, I've never thought about it."
"Whatever you thought, I got more." He gave Max a wink. "Yes, sir! It was a lucky day for your mother and you when she set her cap for me. I'm a man with his ear to the ground. I knew why an agent was around buying up these worn-out, worthless pieces of property. I ..."
"I use government fertilizers."
"Worthless I said and worthless I meant. For farming, that is." He put his finger along his nose, looked sly, and explained. It seemed that some big government power project was afoot for which this area had been selected--Montgomery was mysterious about it, from which Max concluded that he didn't know very much. A syndicate was quietly buying up land in anticipation of government purchase. "So we held 'em up for five times what they expected to pay. Pretty good, huh?"
Maw put in, "You see, Maxie? If your father had known that we would ever get ..."
"Quiet, Nellie!"
"But I was just going to tell him how much ..."
"'Quiet!' I said."
She shut up. Montgomery pushed his chair back, stuck his cigar in his mouth, and got up. Max put water on to heat for the dishes, scraped the plates and took the leavings out to the chickens. He stayed out quite a spell, looking at the stars and trying to think. The idea of having Biff Montgomery in the family shook him to his bones. He wondered just what rights a stepfather had, or, rather a step-stepfather, a man who had married his stepmother. He didn't know.
Presently he decided that he had to go back inside, much as he hated to. He found Montgomery standing at the bookshelf he had built over the stereo receiver; the man was pawing at the books and had piled several on the receiver. He looked around. "You back? Stick around, I want you to tell me about the live stock."
Maw appeared in the doorway. "Darling," she said to Montgomery, "can't that wait till morning?"
"Don't be in a hurry, my dear," he answered. "That auctioneer fellow will be here early. I've got to have the inventory ready." He continued to pull books down. "Say, these are pretty things." He held in his hands half a dozen volumes, printed on the finest of thin paper and bound in limp plastic. "I wonder what they're worth? Nellie, hand me my specs."
Max advanced hastily, reached for them. "Those are mine!"
"Huh?" Montgomery glanced at him, then held the books high in the air. "You're too young to own anything. No, everything goes. A clean sweep and a fresh start."
"They're mine! My uncle gave them to me." He appealed to his mother. "Tell him, Maw."
Montgomery said quietly, "Yes, Nellie, set this youngster straight--before I have to correct him."
Nellie looked worried. "Well, I don't rightly know. They did belong to Chet."
"And Chet was your brother? Then you're Chet's heir, not this young cub."
"He wasn't her brother, he was her brother-in-law!"
"So? No matter. Your father was your uncle's heir, then, and your mother is your father's heir. Not you, you're a minor. That's the law, son. Sorry." He put the books on the shelf but remained standing in front of them.
Max felt his right upper lip begin to twitch uncontrollably; he knew that he would not be able to talk coherently. His eyes filled with tears of rage so that he could hardly see. "You ... you _thief!_"
Nellie let out a squawk. "Max!"
Montgomery's face became coldly malignant. "Now you've gone too far. I'm afraid you've earned a taste of the strap." His fingers started unbuckling his heavy belt.
Max took a step backward. Montgomery got the belt loose and took a step forward. Nellie squealed, "Monty! _Please!_"
"Keep out of this, Nellie." To Max he said, "We might as well get it settled once and for all who is boss around here. Apologize!"
Max did not answer. Montgomery repeated, "Apologize, and we'll say no more about it." He twitched the belt like a cat lashing its tail. Max took another step back; Montgomery stepped forward and grabbed at him.
Max ducked and ran out the open door into darkness. He did not stop until he was sure that Montgomery was not following. Then he caught his breath, still raging. He was almost sorry that Montgomery had not chased him; he didn't think that anyone could match him on his home grounds in the dark. He knew where the wood pile was; Montgomery didn't. He knew where the hog wallow was. Yes, he knew where the well was--even _that_.
It was a long time before he quieted down enough to think rationally. When he did, he was glad it had ended so easily, Montgomery outweighed him a lot and was reputed to be a mean one in a fight.