Carson’s ale tasted like ambrosia on our tongues, which had been the only dry part of us.After I’d taken some long draws, I asked the question that had been on my mind since we’d left Telegraph Creek.
“The house all right?”
Some part of me worried he’d say it had got knocked down in a windstorm or the land had flooded, but he only smiled.
“It’s exactly the way you left it.I’ve been out to the place every week, and Irene and Clarence have checked it more often, I reckon.”Carson said.
The relief was like a wave passing o’er me, and I hadn’t realized how scared I’d been that the first real home I’d ever had as an adult would be taken from me, somehow.Like how, every once in a while, I still felt like I’d lose Oscar.The trouble with having good things in your life was knowing how bad ’twould be if or when they were gone.
“And that blasted cat won’t leave your front porch.Every time I go out there, she’s layin’ in front of the door, waiting for you two.”
“Sprite?”Oscar said, perking up from the drink and the mention of his beloved cat.“God, I’d almost forgotten about her.At least I’ve still got Sprite.”
Carson looked concerned, so I told him about Oscar giving Onyx away.
“That was a very selfless thing to do, Oscar,” Carson said.“I don’t know that I could have given away an animal that meant so much to me.
“Yeah.”Oscar cleared his throat.“’Twas hard, but I’m mostly glad I did it.”
I put my hand on Oscar’s back, then thought better of that and took it away.We needed to get used to being in public again.
Carson saw the gesture and smiled as I spoke to Oscar.
“Cal and the kids needed a good, kind horse.Giving them Onyx was the best thing you could have done, and I’m so proud of you.”
My voice was quiet, but Oscar and Carson heard what I’d said.
Oscar nodded and took another sip of his ale.He’d already eaten the slices of cheese and tear of bread that Tim had brought out.
“I suppose we’d better get home and out of these wet clothes,” I said, finally, after we’d chatted more and finished our drinks.“What do I owe you?”
“On the house.Consider it a welcome party.”
“Thank you,” I said.“I expect you’ll be seeing us around pretty often, now we’re back.You got any leads on work in town?”
“Well, there’s always the cannery.But let me ask around, and I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good.”
“Bye,” Oscar said.
I knew he was plumb beat and probably sore.’Twasn’t all that comfortable to ride double on a horse if you were the fellow in the back.I’d offered to trade off with him, but he’d said he preferred having me in front.Our clothes were damp and clammy, and I reckoned we only wanted to get home.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Where the Heart Is
The ride to our homestead seemed shorter than ever, after the distance we’d traveled the past week.In no time at all, we came upon it, my heart pounding as if I was seeing a long-lost friend for the first time in years.
Our pretty house rose up from the land like a benediction.The sky had cleared, and the droplets of rain sparkled on the shingles of the roof.Her pale-yellow board walls shone out o’er the surrounding grasses with a newness that hadn’t diminished in the couple of months we’d been gone.I found myself blinking back strong emotions again.
What the hell was happening to me?Now I was a married man with a home, I was turning into some kind of sensitive fella that got teary o’er everything.’Twas probably Oscar’s influence, and the fact I actually had a life to get emotional about.
Sure enough, there was Sprite, curled up sleeping under the bench by the door, guarding the place for us.
I helped Oscar to swing down, then I dismounted, and that woke her up.She made a bleating sound and ran for us, rubbing all in and around our legs while making that strange noise, her tail up in the air as it quivered with happiness.
“Aww, Sprite, ’tis so nice to see you,” Oscar said, scooping her into his arms and cuddling her against him.She wouldn’t stop wriggling and stretching, and she butted his chin then smoothed her cheek alongside his.The sound of her purring was a challenge to the cicadas that had broken into song now that the rain had stopped.
