The Disappearing Boy

by Sonia Tilson

  After that, she said, you went over the horse again with the softer body brush, shining it up all over, switching to an even softer brush for the horse’s bony face, where you should never use a rough one. “That’s the bit they like best,” she said, and he could see for himself how totally relaxed Dude became under the smooth brush, his head low and his eyes soft.

  “Here,” she said, “you finish Dude off with the body brush while I get going on Honey.”

  His worries forgotten temporarily, Neil worked away, smoothing and polishing, taking in the good smell of the horse’s hide and watching Dude's nut-coloured coat become glossy under the brush. He looked up to see Cheryl watching him.

  “You got a real good way with animals,” she said. After they put the horses away, she gave his shoulder a playful punch. “I guess you’re the man in charge for a bit now, kid, while me and Ken nip in to Quispamsis to pick up some sweet feed before the riders come.”

  Neil sat on a bale of hay and watched Cheryl walk off. Alone in the barn, the warm, friendly feeling slowly sinking away, he tried again to decide what he should do.

  It was clear that Ken meant to send him back as soon as possible, but he was not going back there. Ever. Biting his lip, he hung his head.

  Sasha had lied to him his whole life. Thanks to her, his entire life was a fake. All his memories of her were mistaken, just like his stupid search for his non-existent father. He resolved again to wipe out all thoughts of her. Of Margaret. Of Jessica. He needed to forget Courtenay too, he thought, since there was no way he could go back and make up with her. Other people turned their backs on bad stuff and made a new life for themselves, he thought. If Ken could do it, why couldn’t he?

  He heard whinnying from the paddock but figured it must be normal. But the frantic neigh that came a few minutes later was definitely not. He jumped up and ran out of the barn and saw, to his horror, the black horse, Onyx, grazing in the open field on the other side of the road, which was already getting busy with the late-morning traffic. Honey was trotting, head high along the fenceline, neighing and looking for a way to join her pal.

  He had to do something. And he had to do it now.

  He ran down, shooed Honey away, and straightened the fence post as well as he could. Then he rushed back to the barn, grabbed a lead-shank and, after a moment’s thought, quickly shovelled some sweet feed into a bucket.

  Once across the road, he shook the bucket noisily and walked carefully up to Onyx, trying hard to send out calm, confident vibes like Cheryl.

  The big horse kept shifting away from him, snatching at the long dry grass until the sound and smell became too much for him. He ambled up, snorting and shaking his ears, and stuck his head in the bucket. Neil immediately put his hand in to feel for the metal loop in the halter. Holding his breath, his fingers shaking, he managed to clip on the lead-shank.

  He had met the first challenge successfully. Now he had to get Onyx back across the road. He picked up the bucket and led the horse to the roadside. Too hooked on the sweet feed to be bothered by traffic, Onyx calmly rootled away as cars whizzed by. Even when a school bus went past, the kids all sticking their heads out and yelling, Onyx pulled out his nose for just one scary moment before getting back to the unexpected feast.

  As soon as there was a big enough gap in the traffic, Neil led Onyx, still guzzling, across the road and through the gate. He took him up the driveway and right into his stall. Then he fetched and stabled all the others just to make sure they were safe. As he shut the last bolt, he realized that he was shaking.

  ***

  When Ken and Cheryl returned, Neil told them what had happened. He could tell by the look they exchanged that they were impressed with his quick thinking. After they fixed the fence and let the horses back out, the three of them sat around the kitchen table, having sandwiches.

  “If it wasn’t for you, Neil,” Ken said, “both of those horses could have been killed. The other horses could have got out too.” He shuddered. “Could have been a lot worse, even. Someone could have been hurt or killed, and that would have been curtains for this place. And for me.”

  Cheryl agreed. “It was real smart of you to take the sweet feed, Neil,” she said. “I couldn’t have done better myself.” She turned to Ken. “You know, Ken, in just a few hours, this kid has proven himself a much better stable hand than Stephane ever was.” She looked hard at him. “Your arthritis is pretty bad just now, and I’m struggling with doing all the work myself. Couldn’t we keep Neil around for a few days, until we can find more help?”

  Ken thought for a moment and then straightened his shoulders with a grunt. “I guess a week or so wouldn’t hurt,” he said. “We sure could do with a hand.” He eased himself out of his chair. “I can’t pay you, but while you’re here, Neil, just to show my appreciation, I’ll give you a few riding lessons, if you want.”

  Neil grinned at his grandfather. This was way better than money, he thought. This was exactly what he wanted: to learn how to ride a horse.

  Chapter 14

  “You obviously take after me,” Ken said after Neil’s first go in the ring on easygoing old Piper. “You’re a born rider, with a naturally good seat and perfect balance.” He thought for a bit. “In fact,” he said, “since you’re so promising, let’s see how you do on Dude.”

  Neil was thrilled. He'd dreamed of riding that lovely horse.

  “You’ll have to take care,” Ken warned. “Dude’s a whole different kettle of fish. He’s always hot to trot, so you’ll need to go easy on the signals. And keep a steady hand on the reins, or he’ll tear away on you. I’ll show you about that in the next lesson. Just do what I say for now, and you’ll be all right.”

  Neil felt the horse’s energy and power as soon as he sat on Dude. And the smooth running-walk the breed was famous for felt like floating on air after Piper’s jolting trot. Dude obeyed every signal, stopping and starting, and turning, and changing from a walk to a trot. Who knew riding a horse was so easy?

  After the lesson, Ken leaned against the door-post. “I talked to your grandmother again last night,” he said. “They don’t want you doing that marathon bus trip again, and the doctor says your, er, you know, Sasha, should wait a few more days before travelling. They want you to stay a bit longer, and then someone will fly down in a few days to get you.”

  Neil looked down, kicking at a stick.

  “Earth to Neil!” Ken said, knocking at the doorpost.

  “I can’t go back!” Neil said. “You don’t know what it’ll be like for me living with that…” he looked away and then straight back at Ken, “that freak.”

  Neil felt a hot wave of shame run over him. He felt terrible every time Ken called Sasha names, and now that he’d done it himself, he felt sick. But he had to stop Ken sending him back, and this seemed like the only way to do it. He looked hard at his grandfather. “Would you want to live like that?”

  Ken looked away, scratching his chin.

  “Can’t I stay here, Ken?” he pleaded. “I love it here. I love working with the horses and riding and everything! And I like being with you and Cheryl. Please, Ken, let me stay!”

  Ken straightened himself. “I can’t possibly be responsible for you full-time, Neil,” he said. “But you’re welcome to stay until they come for you, of course, and you can always come back for a visit.” Walking slowly, Ken left the barn.

  ***

  The next day, while Cheryl and Neil were getting ready to go on Neil’s first trail ride, Ken came out to the barn with a warning. “Gord told me just now that there’s illegal hunting happening on his property,” he said to Cheryl, referring to a neighbour. “Be sure to wear something bright and use white saddle blankets just in case. Some of those hunters wouldn’t know a deer from a donkey.”

  Wow, this was living dangerously, Neil thought excitedly as they followed Ken’s instructions—even down to his wearing Ken’
s red barn jacket.

  First, they walked and then trotted the horses, one behind the other, along the path. The scent of crushed pine needles was fresh on the cold air. There was no snow yet, but the horses’ breath plumed white from their nostrils. The woods were silent, apart from the soft thud of hooves, the creak and jingle of saddles and bits, and the occasional little outburst from a chickadee.

  Dude was already tossing his head impatiently when Cheryl gave the signal to speed up. Trees and rocks flew by as they tore along the hard-packed ground. I can totally do this, Neil thought, leaning forward in the saddle. I could run forever!

  Ahead of him Onyx skittered and stopped dead, his ears pointing forward. Neil managed to halt Dude and stay on. He looked up to see a man standing on the path in front of them.

  Small and thin, the man had long, graying black hair and wore an old leather jacket over faded jeans tucked into moccasin-type boots. His blue eyes were fixed on Neil in what looked like horror.

  “C’est correct, Luc! It’s okay!” Cheryl called out. “It’s just Neil, Ken’s grandson. He’s staying with us for a bit.”

  Put off by the man’s panicky stare, Neil looked down and patted Dude’s neck. When he raised his head a couple of seconds later, the man was gone. There’d been no crackle of twigs or rustle of branches, nor could the man be seen slipping through the trees in any direction. He had simply disappeared into the forest.

  “That was Luc,” Cheryl said, looking back at Neil as they took up their ride again at a walk. “He’s an old friend of mine. He’s used to me and Honey’s owner, Margot, and a few other people riding out here, but total strangers spook him. Luc lives wild, and he keeps away from people. Sort of like a hermit.”

  “Why?” Neil asked, leaning forward to hear her better. The man had been still and silent, like an animal scenting danger, and then suddenly invisible, like a ghost. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Oh, he’s totally messed up, poor guy, but he’s harmless. I’ll tell you about him later.”

  They trotted along until they reached the rock that marked the turning point, then turned the horses to go home. As they walked back, Cheryl returned to the subject of Luc, “His story’s real bad. The poor guy can’t hardly deal with people at all. Me, Kevin at the store, and Gord, the farmer up the road, we’re just about the only ones he talks to. C’mon, let’s have a short canter.” At that, she took off; Neil followed.

  “But where does he live?” asked Neil, as they slowed down to a walk. “What about food? And shelter?”

  “He lives in a log cabin way up in the woods,” Cheryl replied. “Gord owns nearly all the land ’round here and he lets Luc have the cabin in exchange for work. He has a garden, and he hunts a bit and gathers stuff, and if he needs anything else he writes a list and hands it in at the store to pick up later. People look out for him. He gets by okay.”

  “But does he have any friends? Does anyone ever go to see him?”

  “Like I said, he keeps away from people.”

  “But what if he gets sick? Who’d look after him then?”

  “There’s a few of us, like me and Kevin and Gord, who keep an eye on him. Anyways, he’s tough as old boots.” She turned on Neil. “What’s it to you anyways? I thought you was so wrapped up in your own misery, you got no time for anyone else’s problems.”

  “What?” Neil felt his face flush.

  “From what I hear, everybody’s looking out for you. Sasha, who’s been waiting on you, hand and foot, your whole life; your grandma, phoning every blessed night to ask how you are. Ken tells me there’s even a girl worrying about you, back in Ottawa. Everyone’s bending over backwards to make sure poor Neil’s okay.”

  She stopped talking as they neared the barn. When they had finished with the horses, Cheryl pointed her crop at some bales left ready on the floor for the morning. “Just sit yourself there, pal, and I’ll tell you about some real problems.”

  Stalks of straw pricked through Neil’s jeans as he sat down. The barn cat crept out from between the bales, hissed, and slunk away.

  He sat, mesmerized, as the horses pulled hay out of the nets, munching noisily. Onyx neighed and Honey nickered back as Cheryl walked a few yards down the concrete aisle, turned on her heel, and strode back.

  “Long story short…” she stood in front of him, feet apart, fists on hips. Taking a deep breath, she stared at him, eyes wide, before she spoke: “Long story short, Luc’s mom went crazy and murdered his dad. They were fighting, and she grabbed the rifle off the wall and shot him dead.”

  A thump and a squeal came from the paint ponies’ double stall. Neil hung his head, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

  “Oh yes, you heard me.” Cheryl’s hoarse voice went on, “Luc was ten at the time, and he seen the whole thing.”

  Neil stared at her in horror. This was the most terrible thing he had heard in his whole life! He shivered and licked his dry lips.

  “What happened to Luc then?” he managed to whisper.

  “Oh, his grandma took him in, of course. That’s what grandmas are for, right?” She looked across at him. “Anyways, after that, he wouldn’t say nothing. Not a word. Wouldn’t go to school either. And if anyone yelled or there was a big noise, he’d run off and hide, for days sometimes.”

  “But where did he run to?”

  “Into the forest. I guess he felt safe there, poor guy. After his grandma passed, when he wasn’t much older than you, he moved into the old cabin.”

  Neil stared at her. “You mean, he was only my age and he went to live by himself in a cabin deep in the woods?” The idea was worrying, but at the same time very cool. He had so many questions. “Was it okay to live in?” he asked. “Not all gross, with mice and birds and stuff in it?”

  Cheryl nodded. “It took him months to put it straight, and he needed lots of help of course, like with fixing the roof and the wood stove and stuff, but in the end, he got it done.”

  “Who helped him?”

  “There were some people around, willing to give him a hand,” she said. “His life is pretty basic, but he says he’s got all he needs.”

  Neil watched a sparrow fly down the length of the barn and out through a hole in the back window. “He can talk, then?”

  “Sure he can. He won’t if he can help it, but he can if he has to. He talked his way out of being put in the loony bin, anyways.”

  “But is he always alone?” Neil asked again. “Doesn’t anyone ever go to see him?”

  Cheryl shrugged. “That’s Luc. He lives his life, such as it is. That’s all any of us can do.” She flung on her jacket and turned away without looking at him. He got up to watch her cycle down to the road on her rusty, lime-green mountain bike, Keeper running behind her.

  Chapter 15

  That evening, over mac and cheese, Neil thought about how Cheryl had seemed a bit mad at him before in the barn. Had he turned her life upside down by coming here? He braced himself to ask Ken: “Was Cheryl living here before I came?”

  Ken looked up, an orange forkful halfway to his mouth. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I’m just saying, if she moved out because of me, I wouldn’t mind if she came back. I mean, she was here first. I mean, if she was here at all.” He felt himself blush and bent over his plate, shovelling in the last mouthful.

  “Oh, Cheryl comes and goes.” Ken swabbed his plate with a piece of white bread. “I wouldn’t worry your head about it.”

  When the phone rang at nine o’clock, its usual time, Neil grabbed his Coke and retreated to his bedroom, shutting the door firmly. The last thing he wanted was to hear Ken and Margaret quarrelling over him, but it was no use. Ken’s shouting carried through the walls.

  “You’re going to have to take him, Margaret,” Ken yelled. “I already told you, I’m sure as hell not sending him home to live with that—you know exactly what I mean. It’s
not right!”

  Neil heard Ken open the fridge door and grab another beer as he listened to Margaret’s response.

  “Fine,” said Ken. “See if I care.” The phone slammed down.

  Neil sat on his bed, wondering with a sick feeling if Margaret would relay Ken’s ugly words to Sasha.

  Trying to get his mind off all that, he grabbed his sketchbook and looked through the few drawings he’d managed to make since he’d arrived. There was quite a good sketch of Dude in his stall, turning his head to look at him. And one of Keeper with a ball in his mouth, but one leg was all wrong. He’d managed to catch the mean look in Mackie’s eye, and, although the proportions were off, he’d captured the cat’s flattened ears and intense stare.

  He put down the sketchbook. If Keeper were around, he could try another sketch of him, but he’d gone home with Cheryl. Anyway, the light was bad and there was no way he could concentrate.

  Hearing Ken go into the bathroom, Neil got into his coat and sneakers and slipped out the back door. Although it was quite late, he could easily make out the hulk of the barn and the dark mass of the forest behind, and even the fence posts and lines.

  Was the moon shining? He looked up and saw the stars as he’d never seen them before. The sky was filled with them, big ones and small ones, streaks and clusters, and one huge long mass which he thought must be the Milky Way. He felt weird and very small. If the whole world was just a tiny dot like that, what was he?

  The horses nickered softly as he came into the barn. He felt the warmth and inhaled the sweet, musky smell of horses and hay as they munched and shifted in the dark. Dude turned his head to snuffle at him as Neil slipped into the stall.

  Leaning against Dude’s flank and stroking his silky neck, he thought again about Luc, whose mother really had killed his father, literally. There was no comparison between Luc’s story and his, he knew. He had never had to witness a horrible scene like the one Luc had lived through.