by Trumbo, Kari
“I should have written… Then they could’ve told me.” He kicked a stone off the path. “I don’t deserve to even eat a meal with them.”
He cleared the slight rise and his home lay before him. An old barn sat to the side of the house and newer machine shed lay beyond that. Someone sat on the porch on the old rocking chair. He stood and Aiden recognized Da, although he was now stooped and his once bright red hair was white. He slowly made his way off the porch and toward Aiden.
He’d been worried about this moment for two months and now it was here. His da could curse him and tell him to leave and never come back. Aiden wanted to get the confrontation over but he had to apologize before his da had a chance to say anything. Then, maybe, there’d be a chance at forgiveness.
Da stopped a few steps from him, his face flushed and hands shaking. Aiden waited. Da held out his shriveled arms and looked Aiden in the eye with all the pain of a man who’d had everything but life taken from him. “My son.”
Aiden rushed to his da and embraced him. “I’m so sorry, Da. You were right, about everything. I was a fool. I should’ve stayed.”
His da grasped his shoulders in hands that were surprisingly strong. “None of that matters. You’re home. Come, your mam will want to see you right away.”
Aiden tossed his bag back over his shoulder and followed, feeling for the first time like an outsider on the land he’d grown up on. His mam rushed from the house, then gathered her skirts in her fists to run and meet them. He caught her in his arms and held her tight. When he released her, she cupped his face in her hands as a tear ran down her weathered cheek.
“Is it really true? Are you really home?” She reached for her apron to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“I’m back,” he said, wishing he could tell them everything. Their joy at his arrival was so strong he couldn’t bring himself to tell them about Jennie. Would they hate her for taking him from them again?
“Come. I’ve got supper on the table. Hugh will be so glad to have help again.”
They walked with him to the house and opened the door. His chest clenched at the sight. The house hadn’t changed at all. Ma’s patchwork quilt lay folded neatly on the back of the old couch. Under that quilt was woodwork that he and Peader had carved up when they’d gotten their first knives… and gotten a tanning shortly after. The fireplace was as clean as mam always kept it with the smell of bread baking in a hanging pot inside. Not once had they run out of bread as children. He could count on a thick warm slice any time he’d been hungry. His stomach rumbled at the thought and mam clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. He winced and rubbed the still sore wound.
“What happened?” Da asked?
“I was shot. I was working for a cattle rancher near Deadwood and his neighbor wanted more than his share. I got in the way.” Aiden tugged at the shoulder of his vest to cover the spot. He didn’t even want to talk about Deadwood, it would lead to too many questions.
Hugh strode into the house and stared at him for a moment, then turned to wash his hands, black with oil from working. “So, the favorite son returns. Did you bring us the famed largest gold nugget you’ve ever seen, deartháir? Did you come bringing anything but another mouth for me to feed?”
Da jabbed his cane into the floor and growled. “Enough! I’ll not have fighting. This is a day of rejoicing! My son is home!”
“Forgive me da, for not joining in your celebration. The threshing team that was supposed to be here next week has been held up by the weather further south. From their telegram, they’re at least a week behind. If the rains come, they won’t be able to get into the field at all.”
Aiden shifted in his seat. “Why don’t we use the old thresher. We could get it done together.”
Hugh arched an eyebrow. “You hardly lifted a finger to help when you lived here. There’s no way I’m going through the work of getting everything up and working, just to discover it’s too much for you. That’d be a waste of time.”
Da held up his hand. “It’s time to eat. Your mam has worked hard to prepare us a good meal, let’s not spoil it.”
The four of them sat at the table but his mam placed an extra plate where Peader used to sit. She held the plate for an extra moment, then shook her head and went back to bringing the food to the table.
Da sat at the same seat he’d always occupied. “Since you haven’t asked, I’ll guess someone told you about Peader.”
“Yes. An old man gave me a ride to Belvue and as soon as he found out who I was he told me what happened. He also told me about Paul Turbin.” Aiden glanced at Hugh to gauge his brother’s thoughts.
Hugh shook his head. “I want to finish the harvest… after that... I make no guarantees. This isn’t family land. We’ve lived here one generation. The rest of our family are still in New York.”
“Do you want to go back there?” Aiden couldn’t understand why Hugh would even consider going back. They’d left for a reason.
Da knocked his cane against the floor. “No. I won’t go back. I don’t have the strength to help Hugh anymore, Aiden, but you do. You can save the farm from Turbin’s clutches.”
Aiden sighed and scooped some turnips onto his plate.
“What’s the matter? Now that you’re here, you don’t want to commit to work? Just like it used to be.” Hugh sneered.
Aiden slammed his hand down on the table. “You don’t know what my last year has been like.”
Hugh narrowed his eyes. “And you don’t know what it’s been like here, because you left and never bothered to tell us where you were.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you said you got shot up working on a ranch near Deadwood, isn’t that where they found gold a few years back? Not surprised you’d be there. Did you get shot protecting a claim? Prospectors are miserable low-life’s who’d just as soon steal from you as they would work.” He spat the words at Aiden.
Aiden shot to his feet. His brother only knew one prospector, him, so the slight hit home. “You shouldn’t talk about what you don’t know and will never understand.”
“Are you challenging me, little brother?” Hugh stood and leveraged his hands on the table, leaning forward and staring at Aiden.
His brother had at least forty pounds on him and a few inches, but anger could take you a long way. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Aiden leaned forward toward Hugh, his muscles tense and ready.
Mam slammed her spoon down on the table. “Boys! You mind yourselves at my table. I’ll not have you two throwing your muscles around here. Eat your supper then take it outside.”
Aiden sat down. “Yes, Mam.”
Hugh scowled at him. “After we eat, brother.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
AIDEN MASSAGED THE SORE muscles of his hands. Throwing hay was a lot different than throwing an axe, but he wouldn’t slow down. He couldn’t, not with Hugh dogging him at every turn. He’d been back for a little over a week and, though his body was sore from the work, the field was in before the threshing team had even come to town. It had been long hours in the hot sun but his brother hadn’t said a word, so at least supper time was quiet.
He strode into the barn and over to the horse he’d been riding, Sol.
“So, the favorite son finally appears. Day starts at sunup, brother.” Hugh tossed a saddle blanket at him.
“Cut the favorite son nonsense. We both know it was you da favored.”
“How dare you come back here after being gone so long? All I heard for a year was moaning about the son that left. What about the sons who worked day in and day out to make the farm work? One of those sons gave his life for this place, but it never mattered since you were gone.”
Aiden held his anger in check. He’d never been favored, had always been a breath away from the woodshed. Hugh would never know that humiliation. “He never loved me! I was always in trouble. I left so he’d never have to deal with me again, and so I could become a better man. I left so that when I came back with enough
wealth that Da wouldn’t have to work so hard he’d finally see me, not the oldest son who was trusted and would take over everything, not the youngest son who was allowed free rein, but as me the one who tried so hard to be seen at all that I would do anything for it. You don’t get it. He praised you for everything.” Aiden couldn’t keep his voice in check. He slammed his hand against the wall and the tools hanging above his head shifted and clinked together.
Hugh turned his back on Aiden and leaned against the horse stall. “I wasn’t allowed to play, even as a child. I was always in his shadow, always had to learn something new, and I had to do it right the first time. While you and Peader were out fishing, and having fun, I was learning how to plow, how to work.”
“At least he showed you! I had to learn from you, from someone who hated me!”
“I never hated you! I wanted to be you! Until you came back, I had da convinced it was a good idea to sell to Turbin. I’m only thirty-three years old and I’m tired, Aiden. I want to be married, have a family… and I can’t because I work all the time. I feel guilty if I take a day off. But if I don’t do it, the work won’t get done. This farm grew as we brothers did, so all three of us would help and prosper when we came of age, but I can’t do the work of three anymore. I won’t.”
“Hugh, I never planned to saddle you with all this. I didn’t leave to make you work harder.”
“That may not have been your intent, but that’s exactly what happened. I’m going over to Turbin’s to try to get him to hold his offer. You try to convince Da that it’s a good idea. If you don’t succeed, I’m leaving anyway. We’ve got plenty of family in New York that would help me get on my feet.”
Hugh mounted his horse and rode away. Aiden watched the open gate for a minute then turned at the sound of muffled footsteps behind him.
Mam folded her hands in front of her and regarded him with soft eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to your story than what you told Hugh? You’ve been here only a few days, but I can tell you’ve changed. You yearn for something that isn’t here.” She laid her hand on his shoulder and the sadness in her eyes tore at his heart.
He didn’t want to hurt Mam, but he ached for his Jennie. “Do you remember how you told us you and Da fell in love and decided to move away from your family to give your new family a better chance?”
“Of course, I do.” Her face softened and she patted his shoulder gently.
“I met someone in Deadwood. Jennie Arnsby. She reminds me of you a little, the way her temper gets her sometimes, but mostly she’s as sweet as can be. I miss her, Mam. I miss that girl so much it hurts.”
“Why’d you come back, Aiden?” She pulled him over to some bales of straw and sat him down.
“I felt like I needed to. Like I had to tell Da that he was right and that I was sorry for the things I said and for leaving the way I did.”
“You did that the very first thing when you got here. Colin told me it was so. But why didn’t you tell us about this young woman? Didn’t you think that would bring us even more joy? To see you happy and married? Da and I thought you came home because your fervor for that life had finally diminished.”
“Mam, I’d like to take a little extra time and convince Da to listen to Hugh’s plan. Then, I want you to think about coming back to Deadwood with me. I could build a house near the ranch where I work, big enough for you and Da, Rachel, me and Jennie.”
“And all the grandkids, don’t forget those!” She smiled and patted his leg.
“Do you think Da would consider it?”
“I think he will, but I worry about Hugh. He’s had quite the burden this last year. I thought he’d be happy when you returned, but perhaps it was just too late. I’ll talk to Colin for you, you can talk to Hugh. New York is not where he wants to be. My sisters and brothers still live in poverty.” She closed her eyes. “He doesn’t know what he wants, only that he wants away from here.”
“I’ll talk to him, Mam. But please, even if he chooses to go to New York, will you come with me to Deadwood?”
She crooked the side of her mouth. “I hope your bride and I get along.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
JENNIE SCANNED THE stack of gowns, towels, sheets, night clothes, napkins, curtains, and other things laying on her side of the bed. It was all meant to go inside the beautiful cedar chest Beau had made for her.
The cedar bushes were all over the pastures, and Brody had asked Beau to remove them. He had, then he’d brought the thick trunks to the mill in Lead to be hewn down into boards.
Jennie ran her hand over the lacquered top. It was beautiful. She’d never owned anything like it.
Maeve slowly climbed the ladder and sat on the bed next to all the clothing. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here long enough to meet your Aiden. I’ll try not to think less of him for not returning right away so I could.”
Jennie closed her eyes. “I hope we didn’t work this hard for nothing. After the third week, I started to lose hope. Now it’s been five weeks since he left and not even a note.”
Maeve kissed the top of her head. “Dear, sweet Jennie. Don’t lose hope. While it would’ve been nice if he’d written a letter telling you what was keeping him, we don’t know what trials he’s going through. I hope that you’ll write me as soon as he does return.”
“He has to come back first.” Jennie lifted a few things and laid them gently in the chest, the scent of cedar a welcome change from the scent of the ranch.
“Don’t worry. He will return, and then all these things will be ready to use. You’ll see. Goodbye, dear. I’m getting a ride into Deadwood with Brody. He’s quite a nice man, not as nice as Carlton, mind you, but nice.” She stood and held out her arms.
Jennie stood and hugged her mother tightly. “Thank you. It meant so much to have you here. It would’ve been an endless five weeks without you.”
“Yes, I’d think you’d have worn the pages near through on that Deadwood book of Aiden’s.” She winked.
Jennie smiled. “He told me to find something I love about Deadwood, turns out what I loved was him.”
Maeve nodded and swung down the ladder. She waved one last time as she closed the front door. Jennie sat back down on the bed and picked up one of the handkerchiefs she’d made for Aiden. She hadn’t known his middle initial or even if he had one, so she’d embroidered it A.B. in pretty blue floss. The stitches were neat even though they’d worked quickly on each and every piece. Her sisters had even helped with a few of the less intimate items, like table cloths. Jennie touched the soft linen to her face then pulled it away as a tear fell. She didn’t want to have to wash and press it again.
The sound of the wagon rolling away made her stand and go to the window. She’d searched the horizon every time she’d heard one for the last few weeks. This time it was her mother leaving, going home to Cutter’s Creek. If she’d had her way back in late April, when they’d left, she never would’ve met Aiden. Many other things wouldn’t have happened either, but meeting Aiden tempered the more painful things.
Slowly, she packed each item in the chest and closed the lid. Beau would have to bring it back downstairs, as she could barely lift it empty. Where he’d put it remained to be seen. If Aiden were back, they could just store it in his cabin. He wouldn’t care to look inside it, so it would still be a gift when she opened it for him. But, she couldn’t ask Beau to put it there before Aiden returned.
She climbed down the ladder and curled onto the couch. Beau and Ruby had lightened her chores with the amount of sewing she’d been doing with Ma, but now that she was gone, she’d get right back to her normal chores.
Soon, I’ll have my own house and there’ll be no one to help me with my chores. “But, only if he comes home,” she muttered.
Jennie opened the Deadwood journal to a news clipping from September of 1879. A fire erupted from an overturned kerosene lantern and quickly spread to a nearby hardware store where barrels of gunpowder exploded into a massive infe
rno that left over two thousand people without shelter. Jennie read further and her eyes grew heavy. She moved to the rug in front of the fireplace and pulled a blanket over her, rubbing her eyes to stay awake. She didn’t want to be found napping in the middle of the day, but Ma’s departure had left her exhausted.
Flopping the book back open in front of her, she ran her hand down the column until she found her place and began reading more about the bakery where the fire began. The words merged together on the page and she stared into the fire in front of her. The flames burst in and out of focus. She felt as if the fire pulled her into its depths then shoved her out.
Her lids closed and when she opened them again, she was surrounded by fire. A towering inferno lay in front of her. It was the house from Deadwood.
She ran inside and the bright orange flames danced all around, singeing her skin and clothing. Something was inside the house, but the painful heat kept pushing her back. She slipped past the flames but they chased her back to Aiden’s room. Instead of Aiden, Hattie was there, a shell of the girl she used to be. Hattie looked up at her, her eyes empty of emotion, her dress torn and tattered. She poured a bottle of alcohol onto the flames around her own bed and laughed. “You can’t help me now. I’m too far gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
AIDEN’S HANDS SLIPPED ON the side of the wagon. The closer he came to Jennie, the more he wanted to jump from the wagon and run. He had to see her. His heart beat erratically in his chest and his muscles wouldn’t relax. Five weeks was five too many. He shook his hands, one at a time, to relieve the tension.
Colin elbowed his wife. “Martha, do you think the lad’s nervous?”
She smiled back at him. “I’d say he is. He’s never been good about writing letters, I’d bet he’s worried what she’ll think when he walks through the door.”