This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. The story is one from a time long, long, ago in a land far, far, away. Any resemblance to your experience, or those living or dead from those experiences is purely unintentional and completely coincidental. This is meant as fiction. All feedback is appreciated. Drop a line to: shakes003@hotmail.com or check out all of my work at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/shakes-stories/ and leave a message. I will get back to you ASAP.
It felt like years passed by the time I made it past the border. I was finally safe, but I no longer cared. Things had changed. My life was no longer about the next adventure waiting for me around the corner. I'd reach the first town that I could and stay put for good. I would never be on the run again. I'd be safe, but it wasn't important anymore. All I could feel was an empty, bottomless ache in the core of me. Montana promised that he wouldn't leave me, but in the end that was all he could do, with Kabaya underneath him to help keep him from harms way.
I knew to ride fast and hard facing north, and I never imagined that riding alone could feel so cold and empty. The miles stretched out forever. Montana's horse was weak and tired even before we reached the small clearing that landed just below the steep mountains and foothills we traveled over and around. Down below I could spot an old weathered house, and a small barn surrounded by a broken-down fence. There were a couple of horses roaming free, a few head of cattle, and maybe a dozen or so chickens that were clucking in and around the unusually small barn. I felt a faint sense of relief, or maybe a glimmer of hope that my long journey was finally nearing the end.
I eased the horse down the last stretch of foothills cautiously. It was obvious the place was inhabited even in spite of the shape it was in. The house looked more like a hut that was barely standing on its own. Windows were cracked and broken, shutters barely hanging on by their hinges. The roof looked ready to cave in--the wood grey and rotted.
The barn was in no better shape--leaning slightly south as if years of wind had worked its best to knock it over. Everything seemed worse for wear except for the few animals that wandered carefree around the property. They were the only things that appeared to be well cared for amongst the run-down rotting farm.
"Hello?"
I eased off of the horse and tried to stretch out as I called; hoping that someone would be around and be able to help me. I knew the place couldn't have been abandoned by the condition of the animals. I patted my new horse as I listened to the idle clucking of the chickens. Other than them, the place was silent.
"Hello?" I called out just before I felt the barrel of a gun poke me in the back.
Flashbacks of not so long ago flooded my mind and I could feel my body tense and ache from the reminder as I instinctively raised my arms. The muscles in my back and arms twitched and tightened in protest and I fought back the urge to yelp in spite of it. It was at about that time when the gun was shoved more forcefully into my spine.
"I don't mean any trouble," I sounded a lot calmer than how I felt. "Just a point in the right direction of the nearest town. I'm sorry for trespassin'. I don't mean any harm."
The soreness in the middle of my back suddenly eased as the barrel of the gun was moved.
"Turn around, boy."
Cautiously, with my hands still in the air I turned around to face the armed man. I was surprised to find a man in his later years. He was slightly taller than me with a kind face and striking features. I figured him to have been quite handsome at a younger age, even though I considered him to still be quite a sight for an old guy.
His eyes were steely and blue, yet gentle at the same time. His hair was almost all white--grey at the sides, clean and short although his bangs fell over his forehead as he moved his rifle to his side. He looked to be in his mid to late 60s, but still retained a somewhat youthful appearance.
He regarded me curiously. "What do you want? I don't have anything of value, son. You're wasting your time here."
"It's not like that, sir," I slowly eased my arms down by my side and winced as my body fought me on any sort of movement.
"I've traveled a long way, sir. I'm meaning to look to settle down."
Settle down. The very idea seemed foreign to me. I knew I still had a lot of learning and growing up to do, but I had spent a few years already trailing from one town to the next. It was how I pictured my life to be with Montana. Now Montana was gone, maybe even dead and I couldn't have felt more lost.
"Settle down, you say? You look a bit young and beat up for that kind of talk, boy. Your eyes say mischief. So, what kind of mischief do you plan to get into?"
I didn't know how to take the old guy. His words were accusing, but his eyes sparkled; his voice was teasing. He eased his rifle down to the ground, straightened out and looked at me intently.
"Well, boy?"
"I'm...I'm sorry, sir?"
"What kind of trouble are you planning to bring, son?" The old man grinned.
"No trouble, sir. I mean well. I'm looking to settle down. Y'know--get a job. Earn a living. Maybe even buy some land one day."
The old man was silent as he smiled and then casually eyed up my new companion.
"That's a fine horse you got there, son."
"Thank you, sir."
"Where'd you steal him?" He asked as if delivering a punch line, and chuckled to himself. I looked at him curiously; half deciding he was both crazy and senile, and the other half figuring this guy was a real pistol. I cracked a grin and gave a small chuckle before he clasped me on the shoulder.
"Come on, boy. I've got some stew going on the fire. Let me feed you. You look like a strong wind could blow you over."
I peered back to the barn--leaning towards the one side and wondered if I should worry. Maybe the state of the place had more to do with that northern wind than I figured. I could feel the old man's eyes on me--studying me without having to look up from my feet as I followed him towards the house. He stopped suddenly and stood in front of me. I slowly looked up, unsure of what to say.
"It's a beautiful horse, son, but they're not allowed inside."
"Wha?" I asked before I turned my head and realized Montana's horse had followed us to the front door.
I smiled and patted him on the nose and for a slight second thought of Montana and how he and the horse were so much alike--black as night hair, stubborn and ornery like a mule. They were both set in their ways and wouldn't compromise. I took a deep breath and leaned my forehead against the steed, feeling my eyes fill with hot liquid. I never felt so alone.
"You okay, boy?" I felt the old man's hand touch my shoulder, and I nodded in reply.
"I'm so tired," I mumbled--forcing everything that was in me to swallow the urge to break down.
"Here," the old man started tugging on the saddle and gear that were secured on the horse. "He looks like he ain't had a break in three years, kid. Let's get this weight off of him and let him rest. What do you call him, anyway?"
I looked at the old man as he handed me the saddle and drew a blank. It occurred to me that my new midnight friend had no name. It never dawned on me before. I studied the stallion in awe as his coat glistened like black silk in the sun. He was a sight.
"'Tanna," I swallowed hard.
"What was that?" The old man threw one of my bundles over his shoulder.
"Montana." My body ached saying the name, but if I couldn't have him I would always have his horse to remind me.
"That's swell, son. Well, let him off with the others. He'll need some food and rest as well. C'mon, boy. Don't be shy. Set that saddle down over by the door. Let me get some food into you."
I dropped the saddle as instructed, by the door and followed the old guy into the shack. I was about to dwell on the poor condition of his living arrangements when the hearty aroma of fresh bread and stew bombarded my nostrils. My stomach slammed into my chest and gave a growl of recognition. I absentmindedly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand--afraid that I was drooling in front of the poor guy.
"Holy shit, that smells good!" I let out before thinking. I looked at the old man apologetically; realizing that sort of language was best saved for the trails.
"Sorry," I started, but the old guy started chuckling and waved me with his hand.
"Don't apologize. It ain't nothing I haven't heard or said before myself. Sit down, son." He turned to the rock fireplace that was situated off to the side of the room and stirred something in a black pot.
"Well, we can't eat together like this. What's your name, boy?" The old guy asked as I sat down at the small wooden table that was already set for one.
"Ummm...Lucky, sir." I replied and breathed deep and longing through my nose--the beautiful scent of the old man's dinner surrounded me.
"Lucky, you say." The old man chuckled at my antics and brought the pot over to me--slowly filling my bowl with the stew.
He quickly turned back to the fire and pulled a pan from the hearth. Before I could get my spoon in the bowl, he had dropped two freshly baked buns on a plate beside my stew. I was mesmerized by the feast in front of me. I couldn't even remember the last time I had sat down to a meal of this caliber. Life on the trails consisted mostly of food from a can or out of the nearest lake or river.
The old man sat adjacent to me with his own fixings. I could feel his eyes study me again. I should have been worried about so much scrupulous attention, but I didn't. Or maybe I really didn't care anymore. I looked up at him slowly--or eyes met and locked.
"It's nice to meet you, Lucky. I'm Dodge." He held his hand out for me, and I stared at it for a while. Before I knew it, I was reaching for it--shaking it--a small piece of me grateful for my new friend.
The old guy could really chat up a storm. Time seemed to fly as we ate and I listened to him talk about his life. He used to work at a mill in the town nearby. He had lived on this same plot of land for nearly 40 years with his wife and two daughters. His wife had died a few years past from pneumonia. His daughters had been gone for some time now--married and moved up into the big towns with their own kids to raise.
"Jenny, my oldest keeps pestering me to sell off what I have and come live with her in the city. I'd never get what this land is worth even if I did want to move closer to her and the kids."
"It's kinda run down." I commented. "Why don't you fix it up--get a better price for it?"
"I'm an old man, son. I don't have the back to snap this old farm into shape. Even if I could fix her up I'm not really sure that I want to sell it."
"Why not?" I took a sip from the coffee he offered me and looked at him. His lips curled slightly as if to smile, but his eyes suddenly looked sad and bare. He looked down into his tin cup filled with coffee.
"It's all I have left of her. Every corner of this land reminds me of my Marlene." His voice was almost a whisper and I could feel the pain in his words haunt me.
"Everything is exactly how she left it." He looked around the small house and I followed his gaze with my own.
I felt that familiar dull ache in the pit of my stomach as I thought about what Dodge had just said. How do you go on after losing the one you've shared your life with for so long? Does the time pass and make it easier, or do you just quit trying? Do you forget? I looked back at Dodge, my throat constricting at the emptiness in his eyes. He looked back at me as I felt a hot trickle down the side of my face. He nodded.
"You know." It was a simple statement of fact, and I nodded back.
"Well, hold on, son. You're here to settle down, but you've still got miles to go in your life. My best advice to you is to just take it one day at a time."
"I'm so tired." My voice trembled, and I closed my eyes, afraid of continuing this conversation. Afraid that the old man would ask questions--questions that I could never answer. He could never understand, and I wasn't ready to explain it to anyone.
"Take the bed, Lucky. It's late and you look like you've had the world beat the tar out of you and then some."
"Nah...I can't. I appreciate it and all, but I can't put you outta your bed..."
"Enough." He shook his head and got up from the table and came next to me--tugging on my arm.
"You need some shut eye. I'll go find a place for your gear in the barn. We'll figure out what to do with you tomorrow. I can show you to town; introduce you to some people and maybe get you some work if you're interested. You need new clothes anyhow--that shirt is about two sizes too big for you."
"Dodge..."
"It's all right, son."
He patted me on the back and led me to the back of the house where the small bedroom lay, and left for outside. I didn't waste time looking around the room. I walked over to the double bed and slowly rid myself of every last bit of clothing on me then slid under the cool linens. My head sunk into the soft pillow and I reached out for the other one, bringing it to me--holding on to it for dear life. Holding on.