Saviours of Oestend Oestend 2 (24 page)

“I’ve been worried,” he confessed to Frances as the boy slid down out of his saddle. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Then he looked over at the other two riders and stopped short. Dante, of course, he recognised, but the other rider surprised him. Instead of the woman he’d come to know as Cami, he found a young man staring back at him. Or was it? It was still Lena’s big dark eyes looking out at him, and yet, the angle of her cheekbones…of
his
cheekbones…
“Stop staring,” Frances hissed at him as he elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re embarrassing her.”
Yes, he was. He could tell by the way Cami turned away from him. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly to Frances.
Frances shrugged. “Not sure I do either, but it’s not like it’s any of my business.”
Simon felt himself blush at the logic of that. “You’re right.”
Dante was helping Cami down from the saddle, and Simon made himself walk over and face her. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”
Her cheeks were still bright red, but she smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Aren came around the corner of the barn. He didn’t seem in the least surprised by Cami’s appearance. He hugged her tight, whispering something in her ear, then turned to Dante. “Everybody’s been so worried. Deacon’s been pacing a trench in our floor, although he’ll never admit it.” He put his hand on Dante’s elbow and leant forward, as if to tell a secret, although Simon still heard what he said. “He was worried about all of you.”
This seemed to bother Cami and Dante both, and once again, Simon found himself wondering what exactly had happened between them all. It wasn’t the time to ask, though. Aren went to Frances next, and rather than eavesdrop on their conversation, Simon took the reins of Cami’s horse and led it into the barn. The others weren’t far behind. They were just getting the animals into their stalls when Deacon came in. Like Simon, he stopped short at the sight of Cami.
“Scia’loh?” he asked.
Simon didn’t know the word, but Cami seemed to. Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, but she said shakily, “That’s what Olsa says.”
Dante glanced at Aren in surprise. “You didn’t tell him?”
Aren shrugged. “He didn’t need to know.”
Deacon ignored them both. “Not used to riding, are you?”
Cami shook her head. “I was still sore from when we left Milton. I feel like I’ll never be able to walk right again.”
Deacon laughed, although not unkindly. “It’ll pass. That’s a promise.” He turned to Dante, although he didn’t quite meet his eyes. “She’s dead on her feet. Take her in. I’ll take care of your horse.”
Dante looked like he wanted to say something in return, but Deacon didn’t give him a chance. He turned away from him to greet Frances.
Dante sighed. He smiled weakly over at Cami, who looked terrified. Simon couldn’t imagine how hard it had to be for her to face everybody if they all reacted the way he had.
“It’ll be fine,” Dante said.
She didn’t look as confident as he sounded, but she let him take her hand and lead her out of the barn.
As soon as Dante and Cami were gone, Deacon turned an accusatory glare Aren’s way. “You knew?”
“Knew what?”
“About Cami.”
“Oh.” Aren shrugged. “Yeah. I’m surprised more people couldn’t tell.”
“That explains
a lot
.”
“You mean about Dante?” Aren asked.
“I’m talking about you!”
“Me? What did I do?”
“All the flirting!”
“Whose flirting?”
“Yours!”
Aren actually seemed confused, and Simon wondered if he really hadn’t realised he’d been doing it, or if he was just a really good actor. “I’ve been flirting?” he asked Deacon.
“Yes! You never flirt like that with women!”
“Like what?”
“Don’t give me that. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I do?”
“I don’t want you to flirt with him anymore.”
“
Her
,” Frances corrected.
But neither Aren or Deacon gave any sign of having heard him. “You don’t mind when it’s Frances,” Aren said.
Deacon’s cheeks began to turn red. “That’s different.”
“Different how?”
Deacon pointed his finger at Aren. “Stop goading me, Aren. And stop flirting with Cami!”
Aren still seemed baffled, but he smiled, and Simon was fairly sure he was a bit pleased for having made Deacon jealous. “All right. No more flirting.”
Deacon made a low noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. Simon had a hard time not laughing, but Aren didn’t even acknowledge it except to smile bigger.
Deacon, Simon and Frances finished tending to the horses in silence. It wasn’t until they were done and Deacon was on his way out the door that he turned to Frances.
“Been a while,” he said. “Come on up to the house tonight after supper, if you want.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He just walked away, leaving Simon with a very redfaced Frances.
“At least with Foster and his men gone, there’ll be more room in the barn,” Frances said, gesturing awkwardly towards the back room where the Brighton hands had been sleeping. “They were the loud ones anyway. It won’t be nearly so bad now.” He was nervous, Simon could tell, and trying to cover it with idle talk. “It’s all right,” Simon said. “You can go.”
His words didn’t seem to make Frances feel any better, though. If anything, he seemed even more upset. “I don’t want you to be mad.”
“I won’t be.”
“I don’t need to go. It’s not fair to you.”
“Frances, it’s fine.”
“I don’t want it to be like last time.”
“I was a fool last time,” Simon said. “It won’t happen again.”
Frances bit his lip and glanced down at his feet. “I don’t want you to be mad. We’re partners, right?”
“Partners. But we’re not married.”
Frances looked up at him, and for exactly the second time in their friendship, Simon couldn’t read what was in his eyes. He couldn’t tell if Frances was hurt or confused or just scared.
“Listen, I have my own reasons for giving up women. And I have my own reasons for not doing what you and I do with any other men.” He blushed when he said that part, but he made himself meet Frances’ eyes.
“Still. It feels wrong.”
“If it weren’t for Lena, and I could still be with women, and I wanted to visit the whorehouse on our trips into town, would you let me?”
Frances shrugged. “Of course. I mean, I might ask you to make sure the one you picked didn’t have the rot or something, but I wouldn’t mind.”
“And I don’t mind either.”
“But this is different.”
“Not for me.” He watched Frances, trying to gage his reaction. He thought he was getting through to him. He just had to figure out how to put it all into words. “Frances, I’ll give you what I can, but I know it’s not a lot. If there’s something you get there with Aren and Deacon that I can’t give you, then I don’t blame you for wanting to go with them now and then.”
“I still worry you’ll be mad.”
“I won’t.” He could tell by Frances’ face that he didn’t believe him. Simon laughed. “If I am, you can kick me again. As hard as you want. I promise.”
Frances’ mischievous smile spread slowly across his face. “I won’t be so nice next time. I might aim for a sensitive spot.”
Simon laughed. “Fair enough.”
They ate supper, and afterwards, as they walked back towards the barn, he sensed Frances growing tense again. Frances glanced sidelong at him, biting his lip. “You sure?” he asked.
Simon laughed. “I’m sure! Go have fun.”
Frances didn’t answer, but it seemed Simon had finally convinced him. The boy looked a bit embarrassed, but more than a little excited, as he headed through the grass, up the hill to Aren and Deacon’s house.
Once he was gone, Simon stood there, wondering what to do for the rest of the evening. He didn’t want to go to the barn, where the Brighton hands would be. Those men worked for him, and he didn’t count them as friends. Instead, he went to the BarChi barracks. He hadn’t been in them since he’d left to work for Dante, but he found them unchanged. Red and Ronin were sitting on their bunks, separate from the rest of the men, drinking and playing poker on a small table set up between them. Simon pulled a chair up to sit with them.
“Where’s your boy?” Red asked.
“None of your business.”
“You two make up?”
Simon couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Good, because I don’t want to hear about it.”
Simon laughed. He pulled some money out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. “Then stop yakking and deal me in.”

Dante had worried about Cami’s reception at the BarChi, but over the next day he began to realise he’d worried for nothing. Some of the maids stared. Some of them whispered. But some barely batted an eye, and for the most part, the hands were oblivious. Cami wore a wife’s headscarf, and that seemed to be enough to keep them from looking any closer.

His own father had taken her hand and said with obvious sincerity, “You gave us a fright. I’m glad to see you home safe.” Jeremiah then turned to Dante and pulled him into a hug. “Damn fool boy, riding off into the night! I should take my belt to you for scaring me like that.”

He was scolding, yes, but his voice was full of love. More than that, Dante was sure he heard a bit of awe and more than a hint of respect.
“I had to get her back,” Dante said.
“I know you did, son.”
There was only one person on the ranch who didn’t take it well at all, and that was Alissa. Cami told him how when she’d approached Alissa, the girl had slapped her in the face. Dante wanted to chase her down and have a few choice words with her, but Cami begged him not to.
“She’s hurt,” she said. “She knew from the beginning there was something different about me. She assumed that meant I was like her. Once she found out I was sleeping with you, she was upset, but she still knew on some level that she and I were somehow alike.”
“And now?”
“Now, she feels betrayed. And even more alone than she did before. You know what she said to me? She said, ‘Men get to do whatever they want, even if it’s pretending to be a woman. Those of us who really are women don’t have the luxury of living a lie.’”
“What?” Dante asked in exasperation. “That don’t make any sense at all!”
“Yes, it does,” Cami whispered, turning away. “She didn’t give me a chance to tell her she was right.”
Much later, after Cami was in bed, Dante found his father in his office. “She was scared to death you’d reject her once you knew,” he said, “but you didn’t even bat an eye.”
“You mean because
she’s
not really much of a she?”
Dante did his best not to be annoyed. He knew his father didn’t mean it maliciously. “Right.”
Jeremiah laughed. “I sort of suspected when I met her that she wasn’t quite what she appeared to be. Still, I wasn’t
sure
until you brought her home and took her to your bed.” He winked at Dante. “I knew then I was right.”
Dante looked down at his feet and he made himself ask, “Do you think of less me for it?”
It took his father a moment to answer, and Dante began to worry what he was going to say. Jeremiah crossed the room and put his hand on Dante’s shoulder. He ducked down a bit to see Dante’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. Dante was relieved to see that there was no judgement or disgust in his father’s eyes.
“I can’t say I quite understand it,” Jeremiah said. “But I know this—Cami makes you happy. And that’s enough for me.”
Dante nodded, unsure how else to respond. His father clapped him hard on the shoulder, breaking out of the serious moment into something far more casual and familiar.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jeremiah said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Sit down.”
Dante did. He waited while his father poured them both drinks. He handed one to Dante, then went around to the other side of his big oak desk. He sat down and leant forward onto the desk to look at Dante.
“Simon came to see my while you were gone. He wants me to let him build on the vacant land to the west.”
“You mean, out past the fields?”
His father nodded.
Dante shrugged. The request surprised him, but he couldn’t see what it had to do with him. “How’s he plan to build out there with the wraiths?”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? But first, he needs my permission, and I won’t give it unless I know you agree.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“That land belongs to the Pane family. Now, Simon wants to build on it, and he wants to run a ranch there. He’s not buying it, though. He’s talking more like a long-term lease. He says he won’t ever have an heir of his own, so when he’s too old to run it, it’ll pass back to the Panes.”
Dante laughed, although there was more grief in it than humour. “You have too many ranches and too few heirs. Deacon won’t ever have one. Likely I won’t, either. Simon don’t seem inclined to marry. With Brighton gone, that just leaves Jay’s two boys.”
Jeremiah nodded. “And the way things look, Jay’s likely to end up with Fred McAllen’s hog farm. Or half of it, anyway, depending on if and when those other two girls get married.”
“You’re not too old,” Dante teased. “Why don’t you marry one of them?”
His father laughed. “Fred keeps telling me the same thing. I’ll admit, it gets a bit lonely out here, but I’m not so cruel as to make some young girl like that tie herself to an old man like me.”
“I suspect Beth would cause you more than a spot of trouble.”
“I suspect you’re right.” His dad leant back in his chair and put his boots up on his desk. “So, what do you say?”
Dante shrugged. “I got my own ranch. Bit of a mess right now, what with the windmill lying in middle of the barracks, but I’m happy there. I’ll be sorry to lose Simon.” And Frances, too, if he had his guess.
“That’s what I thought you’d say, but I wanted to know for sure.”
“You may as well let him get some use out of that land, but I sure don’t see how he plans to build on it.”
“I don’t think he does either, just yet. And he made sure to say he’d help you get Brighton back on its feet before he did anything anyway.”
Dante sipped his whisky. “Wish I knew when that was going to be. Things are a bit crowded here at the BarChi.”
His dad laughed without much humour. “You’re right about that. All these people, yet nothing’s getting done. Won’t last too much longer, though.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Deacon. I give that boy one more week before he runs out of patience and starts hanging folks from the nearest tree.”

As it turned out, it took far less than a week for Deacon to lose his patience. It took only two days.
The careful schedule of meals at the BarChi had become chaos. The hands ate early, and more often than not, half the maids were in the kitchen with them, flirting and causing trouble. Each meal took twice as long as it should have. Each day, Deacon had to break them up and send them running.
After them came the rest of the maids—the ones who stayed away from the men for whatever their reasons—and after that, the Pane family and the women. Of course by that time, others were showing up looking for dinner. Alissa, Uma, Cami and Olsa had their hands full, barely managing to catch a bite themselves before they were expected to put another meal on the table.
“And those McAllen maids,” Cami had said to him the night before. “Some of them are fine, but there are a couple who do nothing but complain. They don’t like the cooking, they don’t like the food, but they don’t do a thing to help, either! Fred McAllen and that oldest daughter of his are the worst of the bunch!”
Dante could see why Tama had opted to leave.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and the house was in chaos as it always seemed to be with so many people. Frances, Simon and Dante had thought to grab dinner before the hands and maids descended on the kitchen for supper. Aren came in from the hallway as they were sitting down, his ledger under his arm.
“Come sit with us, Aren,” Dante said. “Have some supper.” They hadn’t spoken much since he and Cami had returned, but Dante was anxious to settle things with Aren. He wanted to prove he could be a better man than he’d been before, and to show that he was willing to be friends, if Aren would have him.
Aren smiled gratefully. “Maybe I will.”
He didn’t get the chance, though.
“That’s it!”
The shout came from the courtyard, and was unmistakably Deacon’s voice. “Everybody in the courtyard
now
!”
Dante, Frances and Aren exchanged confused glances. Everybody was rushing for the door, and the three of them followed, although they had to move out of the way to let several of Fred McAllen’s maids past. Deacon was standing in the courtyard, glaring and mad as a just-cut bull. He had a tight hold on the upper arm of a very red-faced ranch hand. Behind him was a girl, trying to button up her blouse.
“Maybe you all ain’t noticed, but I run a cattle ranch here, not a blessed whorehouse! I’m getting tired of tripping over half-dressed women and rutting ranch hands. So there are about to be some new rules on this ranch!”
He pushed the ranch hand in the general direction of the other men and turned towards the house, where most of the women stood.
“Those of you who came here with Fred McAllen—until we decide what’s to be done, every one of you is confined to the house.”
This was met by several groans, and a few louder protests.
“You can’t do that!” one of them said.
He glared at her, and she took a step back. “This is my ranch. I can do whatever the blessed hell I choose to do. You want to try to fight me on that?”
She glanced around for support, and seeing none, she shook her head.
“Good.” He let his gaze move over the rest of them. “And no more meals together, either. From now on, ya’ll eat before the hands, and every blessed one of you better be gone by the time my men show up. If you can’t follow that rule, you’ll not eat. It’s that simple.
“This may seem unfair to you, but let me tell you how I see it—Fred McAllen’s given me fifteen extra mouths to feed. You’re littering up the house, and you’re making more work for the BarChi women, and I gotta say, it’s starting to piss me right the hell off. I don’t know what things are like on Fred McAllen’s pig farm, but here at the BarChi, everybody earns their keep. So if you can’t find work to do in the house, then have the decency to stay the fuck out of the way. And the next one of you who bitches about the meals is gonna find herself walking back to town, whether it’s daylight out or not. Are we clear?”
There was still some grumbling, but they nodded.
He turned to Beth, who stood with her arms crossed and her chin up. “Don’t think for a second I don’t mean you.”
Stunned surprise replaced her arrogant look, but Deacon had already turned towards the gathered ranch hands.
“As for you men—every one of you here is on Jeremiah Pane’s payroll and I know for a fact not one of you is getting paid to fuck! I got cows wandering loose, I got woodpiles that ain’t been stocked, I got generators that ain’t been cleaned and horses and livestock eating dirt in the pasture ‘cause nobody’s bothered to move them, even though I gave specific orders just yesterday it was to be done! There’s horses in my barn standing ankle-deep in soiled straw, pigs that ain’t even mine that need to be fed, and my milk cows have been lowing all morning, waiting for somebody to take care of them! I’m docking a week’s pay from each and every one of you, and I’m not paying you again until everything on this ranch is back the way it should be.”
He looked around at them all, daring them to challenge him, but none of them did. None of them were that stupid. “I don’t care if you’re male or female, you hear me when I say this—
don’t push me on this
. The next time I stumble over a naked maid, I’ll drag her out into this courtyard and take my belt to her. I was raised to not hit ladies, but as far as I’m concerned, if you’re naked in my barn with your legs in the air, you sure as hell don’t qualify anyway.
“And as for you men, the next time you take your pecker out, it better be so you can piss or shake hands with it yourself. ‘Cause the next one I see flapping loose I’ll cut off and feed to the pigs!”
Dante heard a snort next to him, and turned to see Aren duck his head, hugging his ledger to his chest, obviously trying not laugh.
“Holy Saints, Aren,” Frances said with mock gravity. “That sounds like bad news for your pecker.”
“Ha!” Aren burst out laughing, but he quickly put his hand over his mouth and turned away from where the hands and maids were gathered. “Don’t make me laugh,” he whispered to Frances, although Dante could tell he was barely managing to keep from doing so. “He’ll be so mad if I laugh when he’s being the boss.”
“Now get your asses back to work!”