Grandma Lied About My Father - The Blood Card Proved It.

"I want them off this place tonight," Ruth said, and set her glass down hard on the oilcloth.
The table went quiet.
Char kept her hands in her lap.
Laney stood at the near end in a faded Red Cross vest, a bent donor card clipped to it.
Roy half-turned and said nothing.
Ruth owned the eighty acres, the name, the will.
"You're no Pruitt," she told Laney. "Never were."
She pointed at the screen door.
"Get off my land before I call the sheriff."
Hollis watched from the door in his straw hat.
Laney didn't shout.
She laid a bent blood-donor card on the oilcloth.
Beside it, a creased photograph.
Type AB, the card read. Roy was O.
Then Ruth's face went white.
"Who is the man in this picture?" Laney asked.
Ruth's hand froze over the card.
Nobody answered.
The screen door opened.
Gus Whitlock stepped in, hat in his hand.
"Hello, Laney. I was told you'd never know my name."