Saviours of Oestend Oestend 2 (6 page)

“Simon—”
“I told her I’d never be with another woman again.”
He took a deep breath and let it out, relieved to finally be done. He felt torn up and wrung out. He would have killed for a drink.
“You were nineteen,” Frances said at last. “I don’t think she would expect you to—”
“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what she expected! What matters is what I vowed. What matters is what was in my heart when I said the words. Don’t tell me I have a right to break that vow just ‘cause I get horny.”
Frances didn’t answer. They sat in silence for what seemed an impossibly long time. Finally, Frances stood up. He went to the rough wooden cabinet that held his things. He reached way in the back, digging behind shirts and worn boots, and he pulled out a bottle of whisky. He put it gently in Simon’s hands. It was as if the boy had read Simon’s mind.
He sat back down where he’d been, and Simon took a swig from the bottle. Then another. “So?” Frances said cautiously. “
Never
since you were nineteen?”
Simon wanted to smile at that. But he also wanted to cry. “Not ‘never.’ I’ve failed. More times than I want to say. But not for quite a few years. And not since I found the BarChi.”
“It’s no coincidence you’re out here on the back end of nowhere with no women in sight, is it?”
“It sure ain’t.”
Simon took another drink. He knew Frances was trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. He could tell by the way Frances sat, next to him on the bunk as always, but turned towards him, one leg tucked underneath himself.
“It was my fault when Miron died,” Frances said at last. His tone was matter-of-fact. He never balked at the dark stain on his past. He faced it head-on, every time it arose. “I don’t know where I’d be in this world right now if weren’t for you. You saved my life.”
The words sounded dramatic, but Simon knew Frances meant them. They’d had this talk before, and Simon knew not to argue. But then Frances surprised him by veering into a new conversation.
“Simon, I think you know how I feel about you. I know it probably makes you uncomfortable, but I don’t want to lie.” His voice shook as he said the words, but his eyes remained steady on Simon’s. “I know you don’t feel the same way about me, and you probably never will, and that’s all right. I don’t expect that to change. I guess I just want you to know that I think the good you’ve done far outweighs the bad.”
Frances’ smile was shy. He hesitated a heartbeat, then leaned closer. Simon held very still, a bit afraid of where things were going, but unwilling to do anything that might make Frances regret what he’d just said. Frances touched the side of Simon’s head, gently pushing his hair back out of the way, then Frances leaned closer still, and Simon felt the boy’s lips against his ear. “I love you,” he whispered. And then Frances kissed him there, just in front of his ear. “I’m awfully glad you came to the back end of nowhere.”
The confession caused a small lump to form in Simon’s throat. It wasn’t because Frances was admitting his feelings so much as because the boy was exposing his soul, exactly as Simon had just done. Simon had given Frances his deepest, darkest secret, and Frances was responding in kind. He was letting Simon know that they had equal stakes in their friendship.
Frances sat back slowly. Simon saw the way his hands shook. He saw the fear in Frances’ eyes. This secret was the greatest gift Frances had to give, and he was afraid it would be rejected, or worse, that it would cost him their friendship.
“Thanks, kid,” Simon said. Frances was right. Simon wasn’t in love with him and he knew he never would be, but he cared for him more than Frances probably knew. He appreciated having somebody he could trust with his secrets as well as his life.
He looked down at the bottle of whisky in his hand. It was tempting to drink it all and spend the day being numb, but he knew from experience it wouldn’t help. He’d end up lost in the past, thinking of all the things he should have done differently.
“Come on,” Frances said suddenly as he stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“Swimming.”
“Are you nuts? There’s still chores to do, and—”
“Fuck ‘em.”
It was so unlike him, it made Simon laugh out loud. “Are you serious?”
“We’re always the responsible ones. We deserve a day off. Nobody will even know.” Frances smiled at him, his blue eyes bright with a challenge. “I bet I can skip a rock twice as far as you.”
Simon laughed. “Not a chance, kid.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Simon weighed his options. Frances was right. Nothing too bad could come from him taking an afternoon off, and it sure beat the idea of getting drunk and letting ancient regrets get the best of him.
“You’re on,” he said to Frances. “Lead the way.”

Dante’s old bedroom felt full of ghosts.
It was still the same room. The same bed he’d shared with Daisy, usually both of them trying to ignore the person on the other side. There was an armoire, now mostly empty, and a rocking chair he’d built for her when they were first married. He remembered her saying, “It’ll be a perfect place to rock the baby to sleep.”
Except, of course, there hadn’t ever been any babies. Not for he and Daisy, at any rate, but she’d sat in that chair many times, listening to their nephews cry in the neighbouring rooms. Dante had felt the weight of her gaze on him.
He left the room and its ghosts behind. He went down to the kitchen, hoping to find Tama. He did find her, but just as he stepped into the kitchen from the hallway, Cami and Aren walked into it from the outside.
Dante stopped dead in the doorway. It would be rude to turn around and walk away. Then again, they both knew they didn’t want to see each other. Why pretend otherwise?
Aren’s normally golden-pale skin turned pink, and Dante had a feeling he was thinking the same thing, wondering if he could bolt and have it appear casual. The two women stood there watching—Tama tense and Cami seemingly confused at the sudden awkwardness in the room.
“Hello,” Dante said at last.
“I’m sorry,” Aren said.
It was a strange thing for him to say, and the sudden deepening of his blush indicated that he thought so too.
I’m sorry, too,
Dante thought
.
But not for the same things.
Aren cleared his throat and turned to indicate Cami, standing behind him. “Last time Cami came through it was only for one night, and she stayed downstairs, in Gordon’s old room. But since this time you’ll be here for several days, I thought maybe we could find her something more comfortable.”
Aren’s suggestion annoyed Dante at first—not because it didn’t make sense, but because it
did
. Because, as always, Aren seemed to be ahead of him. Dante’s gut instinct was to tell Aren it was none of his damn business where people slept while visiting Jeremiah’s ranch, but he knew his reaction wasn’t rational. Aren was right, of course. Gordon’s old room was downstairs, and it was cold and oppressive. Olsa seemed to like it down there in the basement, but nobody else would choose that if they had another option.
“Of course,” Dante said. He looked over at Tama, who shrugged.
“Alissa took Brighton’s old room, but Cami could sleep in the one that belonged to the boys. I’ll get some fresh sheets.”
Not her boys, but Brighton’s boys, who had died with their parents at the Austin Ranch.
“Come on,” Dante said to Cami. “I’ll show you the way.” He was relieved to have an excuse to leave Aren and the kitchen behind. He suspected Aren felt the same.
Cami followed him upstairs and into the boys’ room. If Dante had thought his room held ghosts, this one seemed worse. It was clear nothing had been changed since the day the boys had left it, heading off to visit their grandparents at the Austin ranch—a trip nobody had come home from.
Cami walked silently through it, her fingers trailing through the dust on the footboard of the bed. She stopped to eye the items sitting as if on display on the windowsill—an assortment of things that would have been strange to anybody but a young boy—string, rocks, the skull of some rodent-like animal. There was the torn piece of a playing card, and a small, clumsily carved piece of wood that was probably supposed to be a horse, or a dog, or maybe a deer. There was a stick, one end worn smooth by young hands, and a dried snake skin, and a piece of antler that had probably come from an elk. It was a collection much as Dante himself had once had. Cami touched each thing in turn with the tip of her finger, as if to acknowledge them. These things had been treasures, the grand total of two young lives spent in the Oestend prairie. Now, they were forgotten. Cami touched each one, as if to wake it from its sleep. As if to say, “
I see you. You’re still here
.”
On the small table by the door was a pocketknife. Jeremiah had given one to each of his grandsons. They were short, but plenty sharp. Tama had laughed, but Shay had been mad, sure the boys would hurt themselves. Of course she’d been right, but nearly cutting one’s finger off with a pocketknife was just part of being a boy.
Dante smiled and shook his head as he looked down at the scar on his own finger where he’d done just that, so many years before. Where the other three knives were, only the Saints knew, but one was here, its small, sharp blade still out. The wooden table top bore four sets of initials—all four grandsons had carved on it. They probably all would have been strapped for it, too, if things had been different.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Dante said. “All little boys are the same.”
“No,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “A few are different.”

Ghosts or not, the next few days were some of the most enjoyable he’d had in a while. Not that there was anything particularly fun about working the BarChi—after all, work on one ranch was much like work on the other—but it was nice to see his brother’s smiling face. It was nice to have time with Tama. It was nice to feel like he was
home
. By the second night, his room no longer felt a tomb. It felt peaceful, in a way it never had during his marriage.

On the third day, Dante sat in the kitchen talking to Tama while she peeled potatoes at the table. At the other end of the kitchen, Alissa and Cami worked next to each other, talking quietly as they kneaded fat round balls of bread. Dante found it amusing to watch them. Alissa was obviously smitten with Cami. She laughed at everything Cami said. He watched as she reached up and brushed a smudge of flour off Cami’s cheek.

For her part, Cami was friendly towards Alissa, but Dante couldn’t tell if she shared Alissa’s feelings or not. He wished he could hear more of their conversation.
He was distracted from watching them by Olsa shuffling into the kitchen. Cami’s smile immediately faded. She glanced quickly back down at her work.
“Don’t worry, Scia’loh,” Olsa said. “I won’t tell them your secret.”
Dante had never seen Cami so spooked. She dropped her ball of dough, glancing around the room as if see who had heard. Tama, Dante and Alissa were the only ones there, but they were now all watching at her, unabashedly curious.
Cami’s cheeks flushed bright red, and she turned without a word and left the room.
“Skittish as a hare,” Olsa said, moving to take Cami’s place at the counter. “That one doesn’t trust a soul.”
“What secret won’t you tell?” Alissa asked, although her tone indicated she didn’t really expect an answer.
“Don’t be stupid, girl,” Olsa said. Nothing more was said after that.

On Dante’s fourth afternoon home, as everybody waited for the men to come back from town, Tama found him outside and they sat together in the sun on the side of the well, watching the long grass of the prairie dance to the song of the wind.

Tama sighed and shook her head. “Not well. She wanted to come here, but now that she
is
here, I think she’s lonely.”
“She has you.”
“Yes, but I have Jay, and the boys. For her, there’s nobody else. I don’t think she’d really thought that through. Neither of us had, I guess.”
Dante couldn’t help but laugh. “What do you mean, there’s nobody else? There must be nearly twenty people living at the BarChi!”
“But nobody she can count as a friend. There are the hands, but they’re busy, and most of them have no use for her once they find out she won’t lift her skirt for them. There was one who might have courted her, but of course she’s not interested in that, either. She’s scared of Olsa and Deacon. Jeremiah’s nice to her, but she needs a friend, not a father. Aren’s the only other adult here who has time for her, and he doesn’t seem to have any interest in being her friend. Kind of keeps his distance from her.” She shrugged. “She’s alone, and depressed, and I have no idea how to help her. She’s happy right now, with Cami here, but that’ll only last until you leave.”
“I think Alissa has a bit of a crush on her.”
“I think you’re right. Maybe you should take Alissa back to the Austin ranch with you.”
Dante couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about having another woman at the ranch to look after. “Let’s not get carried away. If Cami wants her there, then we’ll see, but let’s not go putting the wagon before the horse.”
“She’d be happier there than here.”
“I don’t suppose going back home is much of an option.”
Tama shook her head. “No. She’s gone to town a couple of times, looking for a job, but the only place a girl can get work in Milton is at the whore house.”
“Nothing else? The shops or the hostel?”
“We asked. They both have all the help they need between their wives and their kids. She asked at that new fancy inn, too. They said they hire maids, but we found out the maids there are expected to do a bit more than clean rooms, if you know what I mean. Apparently Mr Tucker likes to take liberties with his employees.”
“So she’d basically be a whore there, too.”
“Seems like it. It’s tough, Dante. If she wanted to get married, it would be different, but for a land-owner’s daughter to stay single out here is unheard of. Her only option is to go south and get a job as a maid on some other ranch, and that’s not much of a life.” She smoothed her hair back against the wind and looked out at the waves of grass. “The prairie is no place for women.”
Her words made Dante think of Cami, running alone to the far reaches of Oestend. It seemed he wasn’t the only one whose thoughts turned to her, because Tama’s next question was, “Is Cami working out?”
“She is. I think the Saints themselves must have sent her.”
“Not the Saints,” Tama corrected. “It was Aren.”
“Fuck, don’t remind me.”
She laughed. “I told him it was a bad idea.”
“It wasn’t, though. Wish I could say he’d been wrong, but she’s made things there easier by a long shot.”
“I’m glad.” She suddenly turned serious, and he knew she was working up nerve to move onto her real questions. “How are you?” she asked finally. “Are you doing all right?”
He shrugged. “Well enough.”
She stood up and walked a few steps away, hugging her arms around her against the wind. When she turned back, he could see the anger and the pain in her eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again!” It was an accusation, the way she said it. “I saw that look in your eyes, and the way you said goodbye, like it was the last time, and then you rode off over that hill, and I knew you’d never make it to the Austin ranch!”
He hung his head. She’d always known him too well. It was tempting to keep his head down rather than face her, but she deserved better than that. He made himself look back up at her and tell the truth. “You’re right. That’s what I planned. But the wraiths didn’t cooperate.”
She moved fast. Three steps, and then she slapped him hard across the face. It surprised him. He put his hand up to his stinging cheek.
“You stupid, arrogant fool! Is it not enough that your father has to lose one son?” She pointed up the hill, towards the Austin ranch. “Is it not enough to know that two of his grandchildren died out there in the wild? We all lost people we love, Dante! Not just you! My sons lost their cousins. They were their best friends, and their only playmates. They still ask when the boys will be home. And you want to add to that? Your pain is no worse than theirs! Do you think you have the right to bring more grief to us all? Or did it even occur to you the damage you’d do to your family? Are you really so selfish as that?”
Her words hurt, not least of all because they were true. Yes, he realised, he was that selfish. Not all the time, he hoped, but when it came to Deacon he was, and when he’d lost Deacon, he’d lost all sense of the big picture. He’d sat in that cabin and hoped for death, and although he’d wondered who would find him, it had never occurred to him how much pain his death would have caused his father, or his brother, or Tama. He’d spent the last few months grieving for Brighton every single day. Did he really want to cause them to carry that much grief for him as well?
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She slumped, all the anger draining out of her in one sigh. “Every time somebody comes over that hill and down the trail, I hold my breath. Every time, I’m sure they’ve come to tell me that you’re dead.”
He shook his head. “It won’t happen that way. Not now. I wanted it then, but…” He shrugged. “Can’t say as I’m happy, but I guess it’s not so bad I don’t want to go on. Not anymore, at least.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “Find somebody else to love.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
She was silent for a minute. Finally she said, “Dante, look at me.” It was an order, the same tone she used on her sons right before she scolded them good.
Dante obeyed. She was looking down at him, her hand still on his shoulder, her face solemn. Her voice was firm. “He’ll never be yours.”
It was almost as if she’d smacked him again. He jerked back from her words, closing his eyes, trying to believe she hadn’t said them.
Her grip on his shoulder tightened, and she shook him, forcing him to open his eyes and face her, and to face what she was saying. “Listen to me—he’s never been happier. I know that hurts you to hear, but it’s true, and it’s time you learned to face it. I’ve never seen him be the way he is with Aren. He
loves
him, Dante. He’s head over heels. He belongs to Aren, heart and soul. He will never,
ever
be yours.”
Dante felt the sting of tears behind his eyes, a lump in his throat, his chest aching at her words. “I love him.”
“I know you think you do. But you don’t. Not really.”
Her words confused him. After all the years they’d been friends, he didn’t understand how she could doubt him.
She cradled his face in her hands, her calloused fingers gentle on his cheeks as she looked down into his eyes. “You love a dream, Dante. A dream you have where you were able to grow up as brothers and lovers and partners. A dream where Daisy never existed and Aren’s coming here didn’t matter. You love a dream where you didn’t waste half your life being ashamed.”
He couldn’t stop the tears now. He put his head in his hands, trying to hide them. Tama put her arms around him, pulling him against her breast, comforting him like a child, and he held on to her tight. “He’s the only future I’ve ever wanted.”
“He’s not your future. He’s your past. Think about it. Even if he had a sudden change of heart and sent Aren away, would it be the way you’ve imagined? Your dad would still be here, and all the hands. Would you climb out of his bed each morning and walk down here to face them? Would you see him running this ranch the way he does and feel as if you were partners? After all these years, would you ever be able to call him your brother again?”
It hurt. It hurt so much to hear, but he knew it was true. What he longed for was a fantasy. He’d hung on to it for years. He’d nurtured it and cherished it, the one beacon of hope he had as he’d watched his marriage and his life and his dream of having a family fall apart. But it was no more tangible than the wind.
“Old Man Pane did a lot of damage, Dante, but he’s long since cold and in the ground. Find another man to love, or a woman if you like, but don’t let that bastard ruin even one more day of your life.”
He shook his head. “I wish I could. I just don’t know how.”
She rocked him a little, and kissed the top of his head. “Let go of the dream, Dante. Wake up. Look around at the world. I promise, you’ll find a way.”