“As much as I want to go right inside, we need to stable this horse and mule.We might as well unload Poke and pile everything on the porch.”
Oscar nodded and put the cat down.We took all our things off the mule then led him and Dixie to the barn.The cat followed and seemed happy to join us in the clean, bright space while we dried off the animals and put them up with some fresh hay and grain.
We stood there and watched them for a time, while they settled themselves in their familiar surroundings.I glanced at Oscar.His expression seemed conflicted.
“I know you miss her.”
“Seems strange to not have her here.I don’t—I don’t regret givin’ her to Lizzie, but it’s gonna take some gettin’ used to.”
I moved close and put my arm around him, pulling him into my side.
“We’ll get a new horse for you, Oscar, as soon as we can manage it.I know there ain’t a horse out there who’ll match Onyx, but you’ll have the chance to make a new friend and get to know a new horse soon—and that’ll help take your mind off of her.”
He clutched my arm then tucked his forehead into my neck and exhaled a raspy sob.He sucked in more air and let out those horrible feelings of grief and loss, while I held him still and safe in the quiet of the barn.And I realized again what a brave and selfless thing it was that he’d done and fought my own emotions as I held him.
“You’re a good, kind man, Oscar Yates.You’re the best thing ever happened to me.You saved me, I reckon, from a life of loneliness, bitterness and barely even livin’.My life is full and good because of you.”
We clutched each other and mourned the loss of his horse, with Sprite winding around our legs as if to remind us that we still had her.When Oscar’s sobs died down, he rubbed gruffly at his face and pulled away from me.He took a deep breath.
“Let’s go in, Jimmy.I wanna see our beautiful house and all our things again.”
“Me, too,” I said, taking his hand and leading him out of the barn.“Me, too.”
We left our mucky boots on the porch, with all the wrapped parcels we’d unloaded that could wait until morning.Inside, the house was clean and quiet, as if she’d been waiting for us to come home.We gazed about us at our familiar things that we’d barely arranged the way we wanted them before we’d had to leave.
We headed upstairs, the friendly creaking of the steps a reminder of all the work that had gone into building this place.’Twas silent, tranquil and looked welcoming with the sunlight coming in the windows.The sunbeams broke through the remnant clouds, dancing through the dust and spreading on the floorboards of our bedroom.
We didn’t spend long appreciating the space but got out of our wet clothes and found some towels to dry off with.We dressed in clean, dry clothes from the wardrobe, and I went down and started a fire in the stove so we could make something to eat.
By the time night fell, we were fed, dry and content to sit on the back porch and gaze out at our land.The mountains rose around us as they always did and had even on our journey and in Telegraph Creek.’Twas a feature of the landscape in British Columbia, and those great hills seemed like giants watching o’er us.They were strong and big and sure.
Oscar and I sat in silence.We listened to the crickets and cicadas chirping, the frogs bellowing and the birds making their evening calls as the sun went down.
When I next looked at Oscar, before darkness had enveloped us, he was sound asleep, his head laying back against the wood of the chair, his mouth open, as he snored like an eighty-year-old fella.But the sight of him made my heart melt in my chest, and the knowledge that he was safe, sound and comfortable in my care made me happy.
* * * *
In the early morning, I woke to the birds singing and the brightness of a sunny day beginning.The comfort of our own bed and the softness of the sheets Irene had gifted us what seemed like a lifetime ago made my heart sing.
We’d made it.We’d done what we’d needed to do for Miss June and Cal, and we were back here in our dear home, with all our limbs attached and none the worse for wear, except for a pale scar on the side of my belly that would mostly disappear in time.
I glanced at Oscar, who slept soundly beside me, with his lips parted and his nose making soft huffing noises.I turned on my side to watch him sleep, as if I had all the time in the world to appreciate him.The ticking of the clock, and the calls of the summer birds outside the open windows were an agreeable backdrop.
After a little while, Oscar snuffled the bedclothes like a piglet rooting for a teat, and his eyes flew open.
“Was I snorin’?”he asked, in a sleep-roughened voice.
I’m sure I had a foolish smile on my face, because he looked so innocent lying there and younger than ever.I pushed a lock of hair from in front of one eye.
“Mm-hmm.’Twas sweet.”
“’Twas?”
“Mm-hmm.”I kissed him on the nose.“You’resweet.”
Oscar pushed himself up on one elbow and rubbed his nose.“I ain’t.I’m rough and brave and strong and fierce,” he said, flashing me a goofy smile.
“You’re all those things, too.But you’re sleep-soft and delicate right now, and I’m appreciatin’ it.”
