“Oh grow up and stop being such a child,” Duncan said, kicking her in the leg hard enough to sting as he walked around her, “we’re almost men now; it’s time to act that way.”
“Oh yeah, like the whole reason I was almost drug off my horse and then beat up was because we’re all supposed to be acting like men,” Falon said as scornfully as she could, “if that’s what being a man is—starting fights and beating each other up over stupid village pride and old grudges—then I think I’ll pass!”
“That was to settle those grudges before we join the army, Fal,” Ernest shook his head as if she was the dense one here, instead of the thick-headed males too dimwitted to settle things without resorting to violence, “I thought I told you that already.”
“It’s stupid, is what it is,” she said tightly. Remembering how she had been curled up on the ground to protect herself made her shiver.
“He’s just sour because he got licked,” Duncan sneered as he rounded the wagon and threw his bed roll underneath, “ignore him Ernest.”
“Hey, what in the name of the Lady are you doing underneath that wagon?” Falon demanded in surprise as Duncan stretched himself out to full length and placed his hands behind his head, looking for all the world as if he was going to sleep.
“Joining you under the wagon,” Duncan said with a cocky grin. Looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, he added, “No one will kick us out from under here if we’re sleeping beside the owner.”
Unable to believe her eyes, Falon’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean? I’m not taking a nap under any wagon!” Turning to Ernest to explain his older brother’s actions, her gaze snagged on his quite serious looking face.
“Falon, you can’t go picking any fights with that Old Blood boy,” Ernest explained, sounding grimmer than she was used to.
“What are you talking about?” she blinked and then Duncan rolled over clearly trying to get comfortable. “Hey, get out from under my wagon,” she snarled.
A hand on her arm caused her to jerk around and stare at Duncan’s younger brother. “What?!” she demanded
“I mean it, no holding grudges, Falon,” Ernest said evenly.
“Are you crazy?” she stared at him. “Like I’m going to leap on some boy almost half again as big as me,” she scoffed. Really, what was it about being a boy that made other boys think she was going to go out of her way to pick a fight with someone so much bigger and stronger than she was that it wasn’t even a contest? She would just lose.
Then seeing Duncan squirming around on the grass she gritted her teeth. “I mean it,” Falon said, rounding on older boy and pivoting around on her hips so she could reach out all the way over and kick him in the hind end with her boot.
“Lay off,” Duncan warned, giving her a short glare before scooting over just far enough that she couldn’t reach him again.
“You have to promise me,” Ernest pressed, looking at her so earnestly that the similarity between his expression and name caused her to shake her head and pause.
“What are you two talking about?” she asked, blinking her eyes. She looked back and forth between the two boys, trying to keep track of what she had said to whom.
“Promise you aren’t holding a grudge; if you start picking fights we could all get into trouble,” he said sternly. “That includes sneak attacks in the woods when no one’s looking.”
Falon who had started to turn back to yell at Duncan stopped in surprise. “You guys actually do that? Ambush each other in the woods?” she asked in surprise. If that was the case, she was going to have to be careful not to make any enemies. The last thing she needed was for someone to follow her out into the woods. The only reason she could see that she would actually go out into the woods was to answer a call of nature. What if some dunderhead tracked her down to settle some imaginary wrong—or worse, a real dispute—when she was busy making dirt or passing water?
The thought of some strange boy sneaking up on her while she had her trousers down and she was doing her business was simply too awful to contemplate. She would be so embarrassed she was quite certain she would die.
“I mean it, Fal,” Ernest glared. Realizing he was deadly serious, as if she actually wanted to go out brawling in the woods, Falon stared at him in disgust. Thoughts of being discovered for the sister she was were still dancing through her head. Glancing back over at him, the weight of his gaze shook her out of it such humiliating contemplations.
“Of course I’m not going to go around picking any fights!” she exclaimed, especially after the realization of what could happen had occurred to her, but when Ernest still looked at her doubtfully, “I swear!” she promised, eager to be over and done with the conversation.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Ernest seemed at a loss when he said this, as if he had been secretly expecting her to weasel out of having to agree somehow.
What a stupid boy, she thought smugly, like any sensible person actually wants to get into fights.
Rolling her eyes, Falon turned away. Boys—or maybe it was just males in general—really were strange ducks. Almost another species entirely, as far as she was concerned.
Turning back to yell at Duncan for sneaking under her wagon, she stopped in surprise. He was already asleep.
Chapter 6: Lessons in Traveling
“Why is your brother sleeping under the wagon?” she asked Ernest, genuinely interested in the answer.
Giving her an odd look, Ernest shook his head and then went over to retrieve his travel sack. Coming back over, he tossed his back under the wagon, clearly intending to sleep perpendicular to his brother’s feet. By her calculations there was just enough room for him to fit his head and feet under the wagon if he intended to lay down cross wise along its shortest length.
“Is the answer obvious to everyone but me?” Falon said, looking up at the sky. At a loss to understand what was happening, other than the obvious, both of Farmer Duncan’s boys had clearly decided to take up residence underneath the wagon for the night.
Ernest paused and looked at her quizzically, “You must not go out camping much.”
“Huh?” she replied stupidly. Even she could tell it was a stupid response, and that was before she had actually uttered it. Actually hearing herself say it made her wince, but despite all of that, it was the most intelligent thing she could come up with.
Ernest threw an arm wide as if to encompass the whole of the camp, “At least here we won’t get wet,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“What’s that supposed to mean,” she demanded irritably, and then grumbling under her breath stood up. Before she could think twice and maybe talk herself out of it, she snatched her father’s old traveling pack out from under the front seat and tossed it under the wagon. The fire looked really nice as the sun began straddling the horizon, turning the sky a lovely array of colors, but after seeing Ernest and Duncan take residence under her wagon as if it were a summer palace she decided to follow their lead. At least until she finally figured out why they were doing it.
“This beats sleeping under the open sky,” Ernest flashed her a smile, “either we’d have to borrow a fire-starter kit, or sleep so far away from someone else’s fire we’d be shivering all night after it rains. At least this way we won’t get the important bits wet!”
Falon opened her mouth to point out the flaws of their plan and then stopped stumped. A fire would be nice, although an honest bed would be better. But lacking either of those, sleeping dry under a wagon was starting to sound like the way to go.
“Okay,” she said shrugging her shoulders. On second and third thought, she wasn’t sure which one was actually better. Being warm around a fire sounded really nice, at least up until she got rained on. While she might be colder under the wagon, being warm and dry inside her bedroll for the night was nothing to scoff at.
That tent was starting to sound better and better, the longer she sat there considering the options. Although, how she was going to set it up without help or the
first idea of how to pitch it, she wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that the last thing she wanted was to have Duncan offer his ‘help’ and then be stuck sharing a cramped tent with a dirty, smelly boy all night.
Besides, from the way these two had just made themselves at home under her wagon, they likely wouldn’t even bother asking after she let them use her tent the first time.
Nope she decided firmly, I’d much rather figure it out all by myself. At least that way she’d still be able to lay claim to some much needed privacy, and keep it all to herself once the tent went up. In the meantime, she would just have to suffer out here under the wagon with the ‘rest’ of the guys.
Pulling over her Papa’s campaign backpack, she unbuckled the fold-over leather top. Throwing the cover over the back of the pack, she grasped a coarse-woven, lumpy blanket that smelled faintly of mold and shook it out. Ignoring the interested looks she was getting from the two boys, she laid the old travel blanket on the ground. Then, reaching inside the bag, she pulled out a well-patched—if somewhat thinner—blanket and put that on top of the bottom blanket.
After straightening out the corners of her new sleeping arrangement, she sat back on her heels. Adjusting the travel bag and plumping it in her hands, she glanced over at the boys making do with a pair of blankets and a single pack between them. One of them would be using the pack, and the other would be using his arms for a pillow. Put the campaign pack at what would be the head of her impromptu bed, she crawled under the wagon finally satisfied with her preparations.
“You don’t have to look so smug,” Duncan grumped into the failing light, causing her to jerk. She had thought the infernal boy had been asleep. Obviously he had just been faking it to avoid talking to her.
A smile she hadn’t even known she had on her face began to wilt. “I wasn’t being smug,” she defended herself.
“Way to rub it in, Fal,” Ernest said with such a straight face that Falon felt her face wilt and her shoulders slump.
“That’s not fair,” she said haltingly, wondering if she had been unconsciously projecting a sense of superiority somehow.
“Sure,” Duncan said with a glance out of the corner of his eye at his brother, and Falon could just make out the two of them exchanging significant looks in the waning light, “why don’t you rub it in?” Duncan ignored Falon’s gasp of outrage.
“I never—” she started, beginning to feel outraged.
“Two wagons, two blankets, his own horse and travel pack. When what are we stuck with Ernest?” Duncan cut her off.
“One blanket each, and a sack fer carrying our things that we have to sling over our shoulders,” Ernest replied, frowning at her and then slapped the wagon over their heads, “but I think ye’re forgetting Mr.-I’m-not-really-rich has his own tent stashed behind the front seat of this here wagon.”
Falon’s shoulders drooped with embarrassment and her eyes dropped to stare blindly over in the direction of a dandelion that had caught her eye before everything turned dark. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I suppose that when you put it that way….” She trailed off, feeling irrationally guilty for some reason for being better off than her new friends.
When Duncan and Ernest burst out laughing, her head snapped up.
“It’s not funny,” she yelled.
“Oh you should have seen the look on yer face, Fal,” Ernest chuckled, falling back onto his blanket roll and clutching his sides as he rolled with mirth.
Falon looked between the two brothers in confusion as they openly laughed at her.
“You were making fun of me,” she demanded her face turning red.
“I always knew he was gullible,” Duncan snorted, levering himself up on his elbow to high five his younger brother.
“You—you—you…,” Falon trailed off inarticulately and with the next chuckle out of that oaf Duncan something inside her snapped, “you jerk!” she shouted, punching him in the arm as hard as she could.
Turning over quickly, his face twisting, Duncan’s return punch to her shoulder was hard enough to knock her off her elbow and flat on her back.
“Jerk,” she gasped, holding the shoulder he had just hit, feeling like it was going to cramp.
His anger gone just as quickly as it came, and Duncan grinned over at her. Falon was reminded why a girl had no business trading blows with a boy two years her senior. Fortunately, all he did after that was lay back down, as if that were the end of the matter and they were all friends again.
Stupid boys, Falon fumed silently. Rolling over she presented her back to the pair, deliberately ignoring them.
“Oh come on Fal, it was just a joke,” Ernest chided in a light voice, one clearly designed to rope her back into a conversation as if nothing had happened.
Rolling almost all the way onto her front, Falon reached down and grabbed the edge of the blanket. With a jerk she pulled it over her shoulder and up over her head.
“He’s just bitter ‘cause we pulled one over on him, Ern,” Duncan scoffed.
“Come on, Fal,” Ernest urged, “we was just joking!”
Feeling upset at the whole situation, Falon ignored them. Giving an inarticulate grunt, she refused to engage them any further.
We were just breaking your stones a little bit,” Duncan laughed, the sound of his braying mirth almost enough to cause her to reemerge for another round of punishment. He sounded like her brother’s donkey!
Honestly, she silently scolded herself, I should have known better than to associate with a pair of dirt clods like these two. Still fuming she ignored further entreaties to ‘lighten up’ from Ernest, or ‘grow a pair and get real’ from Duncan.
When she said nothing further in response, the pair started reminiscing and asking each other about what they thought their sisters and family were up to. This was almost worse than having them try to speak with her. The memories it brought up of her own sisters and little brother, and the way it made her wonder what they might be doing, was enough bring silent tears to her eyes.
Burying her face in her Papa’s stinky old blanket, Falon let loose. After a few minutes of letting vent to all the fear, tension and trauma of not only today but the past two weeks, she picked her head back up and lay it on the old campaign pack. Using the edge of her top blanket to wipe her face until it was dry—a face still pointed away from those insufferable boys—she finally relaxed enough to partially assess where things had gone wrong.
In the end, she decided that the worst part wasn’t the fact that Duncan could hit harder than she could, after all Falon wasn’t really a brother with big growing muscles. The reason she felt so bad was mainly over the fact that this pair of uneducated oafs had pulled one over on her and actually made her feel guilty when there was no reason! She had thought they were friends.
Starting to feel angry all over again, she clenched her teeth. Then letting the air whoosh out of her, she squirmed around on the hard ground trying to find a comfortable spot.
She finally decided that the problem wasn’t only that she didn’t exactly know how to be a boy among boys, but also that for all of their limited resources, the Rankins of Twin Orchards just simply weren’t farming folk. Brother or sister, every one of her siblings had been educated to the best of their abilities. She knew how to read. She had some idea of the wider world around them and how the nobility related to one another. All these two knew about where what they had seen, or their parents had taught them. They were dirt clods who knew about farming and what was going on in the next village over and nothing more.
Feeling better about herself, Falon finally rolled over onto her back and went to sleep.
Chapter 7: Midnight Miss-adventures
Despite the hard ground and lack of a real pillow, Falon somehow found her way into the land of slumber. In her dreams she didn’t have to worry about fitting in. She didn’t have to worry about being made the butt of their jokes, or being assaulted and punched in the face. In fact, Prince Charming had just pulled up beside the wag
on she was sleeping under. His handsome, smiling face peering down at her in the moonlight was almost enough to make her swoon—until the Prince let out a definitely un-princely grunt.
Rolling her eyes at him, she extended her hand and in a blink he was down off his horse. Reaching over to cup her cheek in his rough, leathery hand, his bottomless blue eyes stared deep into hers. His every look was a promise to take her away from here and make her his. Melting into a hand that must have been roughened by years of swordsmanship, her upturned lips sought his in a move of mutual agreement, when all of a sudden he banged his head against the edge of her wagon and started cursing.
Her eyes snapped open, and just like that the dream was over. Realizing that her dream had been interrupted by Farmer Doyle’s oldest boy who had somehow managed to bump his head against their impromptu roof, her heart clenched.
When he started rubbing his head and kept swearing, all she wanted to do was pick up her campaign pack and slam it into his face. If he could have just controlled himself for two minutes, she could have temporarily left this dreary world and discovered the promise in her dream Prince’s eyes. As it was…
Her eyes started to droop as she urged her mind and body to return to sleep. Maybe she could recapture her moonlit Prince…
“Stupid wagon,” Duncan growled, throwing off his blanket and rolling out between the wheels.
Silently she urged him to get lost; she could almost see her Prince’s dreamy blue eyes.
“I’ve got to find a bush,” the older boy muttered, stumbling to his feet. And just like that, her ability to sleep was destroyed.
Eyes snapping open, her bladder suddenly felt full to bursting. Certain she would somehow explode if she didn’t go out and manage to make some water, her lips—so recently pursed for love’s first kiss—instead twisted into the vicious snarl of a thwarted young woman.
“That stupid oaf just has to ruin everything, doesn’t he!” she snapped. Starting to pick herself up from the leather pack masquerading as a pillow, she felt a length of drool slide down the side of her cheek.
The Blooding Page 5