HE say anything?”
“Hardly a word,” Fort answered.
The porch swing rocked gently as he settled next to his older brother.
“Nothing?” said Aspen.
“Honest, not a thing.”
“Sorry, it’s just. . .” Aspens hands lifted and fell again, a small indication of his frustration. “Keeping everything locked up is twisting Gov in knots.”
“Some folks aren’t as at home with words as you are.” Though Fort was teasing, he was serious too and, because he sincerely wanted to help, he added, “Gov was. . . different up there today. I’ve never seen him so quiet. I don’t mean not talking, which he didn’t, but all that hostility, I tell you, it just melted away. I’m sure he didn’t want to come down. I know I didn’t. Maybe that’s what he was like before.”
They sat awhile, neither talking, both thinking.
“Hey, Aspen?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Tarlston will show?”
“Hard to say, but it’s possible. Him or someone who answers to him.”
“That won’t be their best day,” Fort remarked idly.
“No, it won’t,” Aspen agreed.
The stars came out, a blanket of flickering points filling the sky to overflowing. The Milky Way stretched out above them, the main street of heaven, defying the rest of the sky to match its brilliance.
From the window of his cottage Cricket saw the brothers, two dark figures in the faint starlight. He swung his coat on and fetched a small, battered tin from its shelf. The ground crunched under his boots, almost ghostly in the stillness.
When he leaned against the porch rail and tossed over the tin, Fort opened it with a tiny echo of remembered thrill. How many hundreds of times had Cricket been there with his magic tin that erased the hurt of scrapes and bruised egos or praised a job well done? Fort took two lemon drops, the amount permitted a boy old enough to look after his younger siblings who were only given one, and passed the tin to Aspen.
“How old do you think we’ll have to be before we’re allowed three?” Aspen asked his brother by way of chaffing Cricket.
He took his two and tossed the tin back to Cricket.
“What troubles you, mes neveux?” Cricket asked.
Aspen hedged his answer whilst Cricket slowly shook his head, not accepting the half stated dodge.
“It’s Gov,” Aspen began again. “Well, not him so much as me. I don’t know what to do with him.”
Cricket knew anytime Aspen felt one of his herd was going astray, he took it as a mark against himself, against his own skills and abilities— even if the situation were more to do with the one being herded than with the one doing the herding.
“I about your age when I start work for your pa.” Cricket’s words rang on the night air, though they carried no farther than the porch. “You little boy then, Fort baby. It not easy for me; new people, new place, no family. I felt alone, little bit scared. What if Amos not like me? It took time. I patient, now I have family. Gov, he need family. You patient, you wait. You see.”
“So you figure I’m big enough to ride this out?” Aspen replied, appreciating the vote of confidence. “Does that mean I’m big enough for another lemon drop?”
“What about me?” Fort pleaded, just like when he had been a child trying to keep up.
The tin gave a tiny protest as Cricket popped the lid and pinched a single round candy. The wrinkles at his temples creased ever so slightly, then smoothed entirely. In one fluid movement he popped the candy into his mouth and headed back to his house, utterly content with himself.
Between the Rivers Page 35