by Wm. Bernan
“You’ll be hard pressed to find a suitor,” the Stepmother claims.
“No matter,” the little one swats away her commentary, like a fly. “There’s naught one could do that I could not do meself.”
Lenore huffs away as always, annoyed she never can get through to the girl.
The teen, slim between knees and elbows, scuffed and scraped as always, is everything Lenore never wanted. More of a stepson than a princess, despite the beauty hiding under the grime.
The title of stepmother was thrust upon her, truly she’s the girl’s godmother. It was supposed to be an honorary title. Care of the waif was given over upon the untimely death of her best friend since schooldays and her husband. A fate virtually predicted by the girl’s father.
All she ever wanted was to feminize the girl, dress her as she would a doll, parade her to oohs and ahhs, and eventually marry her off…out of her care. Alas, mending breeches and tending cuts…the girl will never learn.
For the girl’s part, she unknowingly, very fortunately, takes after her father. A rough and tumble man, raised to defend his own by his absent father, a man with an absurd solution to a real problem…a family tradition of sorts. Sue Cash took nothing from no one, neither asked nor gave anything more than was warranted, and unfortunately died before he could teach his young daughter the cruel ways of the world.
The girl named Spit Cash was already stronger and bolder than a dozen stepmothers, it’s a family tradition.
With reverence for Johnny and Shel.
Wm. Bernan is an author of historical and paranormal fiction and lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.