[Measure of Devotion 01.0 - 03.0] Box Set

by Caethes Faron

  “So that’s where Jason gets it from.”

  Jason snorted. “I’m the sentimental one? I’m not the man who carried a lock of his lover’s hair around for three years.”

  “A moment of weakness on my part. You have always been sentimental.”

  “I have to agree with Kale. You are entirely too attached to sentiment. I think Kale’s all the proof we need of that.” The mild tone of his father’s voice made the words seem almost nice.

  Robert yawned, and Jason noticed that his eyes drooped. By his own admission, Robert had slept much of the day. When Jason was a child, his father had been up with the sun and worked until late into the night. It was strange to think that a simple meal and conversation was enough to tire him.

  “Dinner was delightful, Father. Thank you.”

  Robert nodded. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

  Robert made no move to stand, signaling the end of dinner. It occurred to Jason that he hadn’t seen his father stand the entire time he had been home. Given his father’s state and the way he was constantly propped up with pillows, Jason realized that Demetri must be carrying him. Robert wouldn’t want his son to see him carted around like an invalid. “May Kale and I be excused? It’s getting late.”

  “Yes, of course. Have a nice night.” Robert genuinely smiled and nodded at both Jason and Kale.

  In the hall, Jason put his arm around Kale’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “I figured someone had to nudge the two of you along.”

  “Yes, and you did beautifully.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  In bed, Jason rolled around this new image of his father as he laid on his back, staring in the darkness. It was easy to get wrapped up in the warm spell cast by the story his father had told, but he just couldn’t reconcile his conflicting images of the man.

  “What are you thinking about?” Kale was on his side with his back to Jason.

  “How do you know I’m thinking about anything?”

  “Because you think too loud. You might as well tell me what it is. I’m not going to be able to sleep until you stop.”

  Jason smiled. Being known so well never ceased to amaze him. It was an entirely comfortable feeling. “I just don’t know what to make of my father.”

  “Then don’t make anything of him. Just love him, respect him, and be content.”

  “But I can’t make sense of him.”

  “Yes, no use being content when you can fret instead.” Jason felt Kale roll over to face him.

  “He’s such an enigma.”

  “Only to you. He’s quite a simple man. I believe that used to be your complaint about him.”

  “You’re telling me you understand him? You understand how he could allow Darlene to speak to him like that, but he couldn’t tolerate the love of my life being far more respectful?”

  “That’s precisely the problem. You treated me like a lover, and I treated you the same. That’s what your father had issue with. He’s actually a very fair man when it comes to his slaves. That’s his reputation. If he were a tyrant, I would have heard about it back when I belonged to Carter.”

  “But he treats Darlene like family, why can’t you be treated as family?”

  “For one, Darlene has earned her place in this household. She’s loyal and hardworking. Second, I’ll concede that she is part of the family, but the same way a dog or pet is. You love your dog, but you won’t hesitate to shoot him if he turns vicious.”

  “He should have treated you better.”

  “You need to see it from his point of view. I was way out of line with you and you with me. We were lovers for gods’ sakes. He was right when he said that you weren’t merely fucking me. You cared about me more than you should have, and you let me get away with everything. I had forgotten my place, and he took it upon himself to correct me. It wasn’t his right since he didn’t own me, but you can hardly blame him for it.”

  “Oh, I think I can.”

  “In a way, he was trying to protect you. I was dancing dangerously close to the line of impersonating a free man. Had I crossed that line, you would have lost me forever. Someone would have reported us.”

  “Him, most likely.”

  “No, if he’d wanted to, he would have. He could have, but he didn’t. From an objective viewpoint, he did us a favor.”

  Jason’s mouth tasted bitter. “How can you defend him?”

  “You’ve put me in a position where I have to. I don’t like it, so if you could just get past it, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I know I should be able to, especially since you have, and you’re the one he slapped and threatened to beat.” Jason sighed, trying to release all his negative feelings with his breath. As soon as he was done, a yawn overtook him.

  Kale threw his arm over Jason and pulled him in tight. Being surrounded by Kale, his scent, his touch, the steady rhythm of his breathing, soothed him. Jason’s body reacted to it as if this was the place he was meant to be, his natural habitat, protected from the outside world.

  “Tonight was nice. There could be more nice moments with your father if you’d only allow it.”

  Kale’s breath tickled his ear, the advice sounding even more practical in Kale’s strong, smooth voice than it already did. “You’re right. You’re always right. It’s rather annoying. I’ll try to let the past be.”

  “Good. Now stop talking, so I can get some sleep.”

  Kale’s lips brushed the rim of Jason’s ear. If nothing else, Jason should love his father for giving him the best man Jason had ever known.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was easy for Kale to find the hilltop where he and Jason had spoken the previous day. Martin wasn’t likely to call until the evening if he even found anything today. Kale hoped for a call either way. Waiting inside the house would be unbearable, and he wanted Jason to have some time alone with his father. Once they had news from Martin, Kale intended to ask Jason to accompany him. For all the talk he spouted about Jason needing to spend time with his father, he was selfish enough to take Jason with him when the time came. After what he’d experienced at Monroe’s, Kale knew he couldn’t go through something like that again without Jason’s support.

  After breakfast, he had saddled a horse and sought out the hill with the panoramic view, a sketchpad and pastels in his saddlebags. Kale hobbled the horse and sat to draw. It was nice to work on his art again. He should have done so sooner. With a light hand, he sketched the area and then filled in the color. It wasn’t anything he’d show publicly, but he wanted to unleash himself on the page and produce something, whether or not it was good. Closing his eyes, he pictured the way the scenery had been lit the day before. Taking some reds and oranges, he attempted to recreate the image. The result was a little off—the shadows didn’t fall correctly—but Kale was satisfied.

  Flipping the page, Kale began drawing the mare grazing a few paces away. It was an easy subject that he had drawn countless times. His pencil flew across the page. No need for pastels—he had only wanted those for the sunlit landscape. Within minutes, the horse took shape. A sense of satisfaction overcame him when images came into focus on the page. There was always a moment when he looked at his incomplete work and thought that it could really go either way. He could either make something great, or it could all fall apart. It always amazed him at how simple and small the touches were that made it come alive. A curve here, a shadow there, adding the eyes to a face. Such little things, but without them, the picture fell flat.

  Jason had asked him once how he knew when he was done. Kale still didn’t know. It was always a wild guess how far he would take a picture. Over time, especially since he had been afforded the luxury of pursuing art, he had developed the gut instinct that told him when one more shadow would be too much, when a detail should be left obscured. There was no explaining it, it just was. Kale smirked. This was exactly why he had never accepted the offer to teach an art class. What would he say? Just keep drawing until it feels
right?

  The horse on the page was complete, or as complete as Kale was going to make her. It was good. If he’d been in a different mood, he might have spent more time emphasizing her musculature, but he didn’t have the patience for it at the moment. Another flip of the page, and fresh emptiness stared at him.

  Kale looked around for inspiration. A tree would be nice, but there were none interesting enough or in the shapes he wanted. Perhaps he could draw an image from his own mind. Closing his eyes, Kale tried to empty his head so inspiration could come. What flashed before him was the picture of his mother mending his brother’s trousers while Thomas sat at her feet. Kale pushed the image away. There was too much pain and longing in his chest to draw such a thing.

  His hand began to glide across the pad. The pain and longing were exactly why he needed to release the image onto the page. Arms and legs took shape. A chair, the fireplace, a crackling fire, feet, heads, hair. It all poured out. The torn trousers, a needle and thread piercing the fabric, deft hands mending a tear. Kale shaded with meticulous precision, pulling out every shape. When there was nothing left, he regarded his work: a beautiful portrait of his mother and Thomas, faceless.

  Closing his eyes again, he struggled to pull their faces into focus. He could feel what it was like to have his mother smile at him, but he couldn’t recreate it. All he had was blurry perception. Kale had told Jason once that it wasn’t about the details, that people rarely remember them, that art was about perception and evoking feelings. All well and good, but this was his family. Every time he tried to focus the image, he was left with the unsettling realization that it wasn’t quite right.

  The blank faces stared at him. It was disturbing. Holding the clearest picture in his mind that he could, he filled in the eyes, nose, and mouth on each face. He remembered to sprinkle freckles on the bridge of Thomas’s nose. He didn’t forget the wrinkles around his mother’s eyes or the scar that cut through her right eyebrow. Little details, but it was the whole he couldn’t see. The result was an intricate drawing of two people who looked similar to his mother and brother.

  Kale cursed himself for not drawing them earlier, for failing to capture their images when they had still been fresh in his mind. His fourteen-year-old self wouldn’t have been up to the task. And even if he had been, he wouldn’t have been able to keep the drawing through the years. When he had been sold, he had known he would never see them again. He’d found no point in torturing himself with their likeness.

  He could draw nothing else after that. Kale gathered up his supplies and placed them back in the saddlebag, withdrawing a book. He still had a good hour before hunger would drive him back to the house, an hour he could spend lost in another world where none of his problems existed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “A rancher from up north has inquired about purchasing a bull.” John lifted the letter in question. “I’ve never heard of him, though.”

  “Does he know how much our bulls go for?” Robert puffed his cigar from the brown leather armchair where he was propped up behind his imposing, walnut desk. As a boy, Jason had been afraid of that desk and, more often than not, the gruff man who sat behind it. Jason had abandoned such fear long ago and now sat across from Robert next to John. He had wanted to spend time with his father, and apparently this was what his father did. It wasn’t a bad idea to start showing some interest in the family business.

  “He sounds like he does, but who knows? I hate selling to someone we don’t know.”

  “I agree. See what you can find out about him, and let me know.” Robert exhaled the smoke and surrendered to a coughing fit. Jason didn’t know how his father could maintain such a dreadful habit when he sounded likely to cough up a lung.

  “I’m confused. If he has the money, why does it matter?” Jason couldn’t understand the business logic in that. He had been in the study for hours, listening to talk of things he didn’t comprehend. This was at least something he felt knowledgeable enough about to ask a question.

  Robert still struggled with the cough, so he motioned for John to answer. “Our value comes in our reputation. Wadsworth bulls produce high-grade cattle. It takes work to maintain that standard. If we sold to anyone who asked, it would diminish our value.”

  “So you work on exclusivity?”

  “It’s not being exclusive we’re after. It’s quality. Say we sell to this fellow and it turns out his cows are sick, ugly things. They pass their bad breeding on through one of our bulls, and we’ve got subpar cattle roaming around sired by a Wadsworth bull. When he goes to sell his miserable offspring, he’s going to brag about it being the product of a Wadsworth bull. His buyer’s going to take a look at the scrawny calf and think there must be something wrong with Wadsworth cattle. Our bulls produce the best because they’re only allowed to breed to the best. You understand, boy?”

  Jason nodded. “I guess so. It’s a different business than steel.”

  “Of course it is. We’re dealing with living animals here.” Robert had overcome his cough and settled back in his chair. “If someone wants a Wadsworth bull, they’ve got to show that they’re committed to the same quality we are.”

  “Well, not quite the same. No one has the quality your daddy does.” John nodded to Jason and grinned with pride. Respect shone through his eyes when he looked back at Robert.

  Robert chuckled. “All right, but close. That’s why we only enter Cattleman’s Roundup. It’s the most exclusive auction in the country. If this fellow is contacting us by letter, it probably means he doesn’t meet the standards to be allowed in to the auction, or he doesn’t know about it. Neither one is a good sign, but I’m not against helping another man get a start as long as he can prove himself.” Robert coughed again.

  “Why don’t we take a break? I need to see if the boys have come back from checking the northwest fence and see if that herd got moved.” Robert nodded as he continued to cough. John stood, and Jason followed him. Demetri stepped forward from the corner where he’d been silently standing and gently patted Robert on the back. In the hall, John closed the door after Jason.

  “You did well in there. It means a lot to Robert that you’re taking an interest, even if he doesn’t show it.” John nodded to him and left before Jason could even respond.

  The study door opened, and Demetri emerged. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. And thanks for taking care of my father so well.”

  “It’s my pleasure, sir. It’s an honor to be here for him when he needs me.” Demetri lifted his eyes to Jason’s, and the clear blue orbs confirmed the truth of his statement.

  Jason had been a fool to think he could have taken Demetri away from his father. All he had known was that Demetri was more upper-class than any of the other slaves on the ranch. Jason had been enthralled with his tales of his previous master’s household where he’d served nobility. “Why did you seem disappointed when Father didn’t give you to me to take to Perdana? You clearly belong with him.”

  Demetri lowered his eyes in the subservient way slaves were accustomed to. “I felt slighted that he didn’t think highly enough of me to give me to his only son. I was insulted that he had chosen to buy Kale instead. It was wrong of me, and I apologize.”

  “What? I always thought you were so smart when I was younger, but you sure got that one wrong. You’re invaluable to him.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  They stood in awkward silence. Jason wondered what Demetri could be waiting for. Then it dawned on him. Demetri had come out to see if Jason was gone so he could carry Robert to his room. Jason should have realized sooner. “I’ll be in my room, should anybody need me.”

  Demetri lifted his eyes once again. “Thank you, sir.” Jason caught the understanding in his gaze. He knew Jason had been letting him know that he wouldn’t be on the path to Robert’s room, and that was what he thanked him for.

  Up in his room, Jason removed his vest and unbuttoned the top tw
o buttons of his shirt. Picking up his mother’s journal from the table, he positioned himself in the chair by the fireplace and lost himself in her writings. Even the most mundane entries held his attention. Each word was a comforting reminder of the woman who’d been the center of his world. He didn’t stop until Kale walked up behind him.

  “I thought you were supposed to be spending time with your father.”

  Jason tilted his head all the way back over the chair, forcing Kale to lean in for an upside down kiss. Satisfied with the greeting, he marked his place in the book and set it aside. “I was, but he’s resting now. He can’t get through much. What are you doing back so early?”

  “Early? I thought you’d be worried about me. I got absorbed in my book.”

  Jason glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was already almost three o’clock. “Me too. More time passed than I thought. You want to eat lunch?”

  “That’s what brought me back.” Kale tossed his art supplies on the bed and headed for the door.

  Darlene fixed them some sandwiches, and they ate together in the dining room. It was nice to eat with just the two of them. Jason didn’t know if his father had woken up and eaten or if he’d slept through lunch. He didn’t want to disturb him if he was still sleeping, but he also wanted Robert to know he wanted to spend time with him. Maybe he would see if he could find Demetri after he finished eating.