So far, brothers Huck and Dewey Strait try to survive under the abuse from their father, Matthew Strait. But as time goes on, Dewey is getting bolder and Huck knows there will be a confrontation sooner than later.

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I stand by the stairs, listening to my daddy spew his venom about Miss Lynn. Dewey comes in the front door and looks over at me. I put my finger to my lips to hush him. He rolls his eyes and brushes past me.

"I'm starving," he says as he enters the kitchen.

"You finish fixing that coop?" Daddy asks.

"Yes."

"I sure as hell hope you did a better job than the last time."

"Yes. It's better than anything you coulda' done."

I wince and clear my throat. Dewey is all but begging for Daddy to come after him. I rush into the kitchen and stop midway between both of them. If something is gonna happen, they're gonna have to get through me. I look at Momma, who's nervously watching both. "So, Momma, what's for dinner?"

"Fish stew," she says, forcing a smile to her face.

Dewey wrinkles his nose.

"I put lots of potatoes and carrots in it, Dewey. You can pick out the hunks of fish and give 'em to Huck. He likes the fish."

Momma waits until Dewey and Daddy sit before she starts filling the shallow bowls with stew. She places a bowl in front of each of us.

Dewey immediately starts pushing the potatoes from side to side, then starts lifting the chunks of fish out and putting them in my bowl. He leaves a little trail of broth from his dinner to mine.

"Dammit, boy. You're making a mess. Just eat the damned fish," Daddy snaps.

"I don't like it," Dewey whines.

"You think I give a shit?"

Dewey puts his spoon down and starts breathing real shallow. He has this far away look in his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing, Dummy?"

For a minute, Dewey just looks sort of confused, like he did when those boys in town shoved his head in the fountain. "Why are you so mean to everybody?"

"Dewey, sweetheart, just eat the broth and the vegetables," Momma whispers.

"Eat it all, Dummy," Daddy says. There is an edge to his voice even though he said it no louder than Momma's whisper. "Or is that too mean, making you eat your dinner?"

Dewey looks over at me.

"Just eat it," I mouth.

But Dewey has other things on his mind. He's getting bolder each day. It's like watching some odd dance. He and Daddy trying to out do each other.

"You like surprises, Daddy?" Dewey asks.

Daddy greedily shovels a spoonful of the stew in his mouth. A trickle of broth dribbles out when he speaks. "What the hell are you blabbering about?"

"I asked you if you liked surprises."

Daddy grins, but there ain't nothing friendly about it. "Yes, yes I do."

"I'm building something just for you. You're gonna be so proud of me when you see it."

Daddy throws his head back and laughs. "Well now, that'll be a change. You and your brother are weak. Made from weak seed."

My eyes dart over to Dewey. A twinge of resentment fills my heart.

"Ain't none of y'all got nothing to say?" Daddy says.

"The house is only as strong as the wood it's built with," Dewey mutters.

"What was that?"

"You heard me, I know you did," he says softly.

Daddy reaches over and pokes his finger into Dewey's chest. "You and me, we gonna have a talk. Real soon."

Dewey doesn't answer. Momma quickly goes to the sink and stands there white faced and nervous. She knows there is a confrontation coming soon. And, she's gonna be burying one of them.

I kick Dewey under the table. Poor Momma, she should, at least, be able to eat her meal in peace. Dewey takes a spoonful of stew and puts it in his mouth, then levels his gaze at me. I feel the sharp pain of his foot as he kicks me back. I can't look at anyone. I feel like all its gonna take is one false move and a war will start.

Daddy finishes his stew and stands up, shoving his chair back so hard that it teeters on two legs before settling back on all four.

"Matthew, I've got berries and sweet cream for dessert," Momma says, a desperate sound to her voice.

"I need some air," he snaps. "I'll be back later."

My first thought ain't about what kind of mood he's coming home in. No, it's where he's off to now. I get this terrible feeling that he's going to cause trouble for Miss Lynn. He heads straight through the living room and goes out through the front door, letting the screen door slam as he leaves. I look out through the front winda'. The sky is getting all purple, like a fresh bruise.

I look back at Momma. "You want me to follow him?"

"Just let him be," she says, then turns her attention on Dewey. "What's gotten into you? Didn't that whack on the head teach you anything?"

Dewey looks at her wide eyed. "When are ya' gonna learn he ain't worth the space he takes up? He ain't never been worth a dang. I hate him. I will always hate him. I wish he was dead."

Momma's hand flies up to her mouth. "Dewey, you don't mean that. I know you don't."

"I never meant anything truer in my life, Momma."

She unties her apron and drapes it over the chair. Without saying anything, she leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs.

"Why'd you say that?" I whisper.

Dewey frowns. "Why is it wrong for me to say out loud what everyone is thinking. Tell me why it's okay to carry hatred in our heart but wrong to say the words."

I don't have an answer. I don't suspect no one would.

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I wake to Momma shaking me. "Wake up, Huck, I need your help," she says. There is an urgency to her voice.

I pull myself up and shake my head to clear the cobwebs from my mind. "What's wrong?"

"It's your daddy. He's pretty beat up."

"What happened?" I ask, grabbing for my drawers and yesterday's shirt.

She wrings her hands and hurries to the door. "I don't know. Says he don't know what it was exactly, but something got him pretty good."

She heads back downstairs, and as I follow close on her heels, I wonder who or what bested Matthew Strait and why.