Jake didn’t relax until he saw Mother Harper herself catch. When her skin began to blacken and she didn’t react, he finally let out a sigh of relief. He must have just been seeing thing, he decided. He put his arm around the shoulders of his friend, who had begun sobbing again. Beaupre stood slightly apart from the group. Observing us, Jake would have bet. A good scout knows when to be silent and just watch. He had acquitted himself well, though; he must have been at least somewhat familiar with the pyre ritual. Jake had only met a few Jezzites; they tended to be an overbearing people, who belittled any belief that was not their own. They would go on for hours about how much older their faith was, and that only their god was a true god and the rest were fantasy. Or that their other gods were demons; that was another favorite. Beaupre, however, had done none of that. Jake gave him points for it. The Kenoshan caught him looking his way, and gave him a nod.
Jake was returning the nod when it happened. Overhead, the clouds had broken just enough that he could see a small patch of stars. “Look, Tom!” he cried. “Mother Harper couldn’t get through to make her journey, but Lord Jezias parted the clouds to let her through!”
“Praise the Mother!” cried Sara, her voice hoarse from crying, but sounding exultant.
Tom walked over to his sister and wrapped her in a hug, his frame still shaking with sorrow. Jake walked over to Beaupre and extended a hand. “Thank you for helping my friend.”
Beaupre reached out and clasped his forearm. “Of course. Least I could do after the trouble I caused.”
“Come to my home tomorrow afternoon. We’ll talk then about why you’ve been such trouble,” said Jake, smiling to take the sting out of the comment.
“I will. And now I’ll be off, to let you and yours grieve,” said Beaupre. Jake nodded, and the Kenoshan walked back to the arena to grab his skis. Jake turned and walked back to the group, to mourn their loved one and to thank the Lord of Death for accepting her into his realm.
Jake slept in again the next morning. It was very unlike him to oversleep one morning, let alone two. He started to scold himself, but then relented. It had been a very long night to end a very long week. Tom had been inconsolable once they finally got him back inside the Arena. Jake hadn’t felt like he could leave until his friend had come back to himself a little bit. Finally, well after midnight, the big hay farmer had descended into an uneasy slumber. By that time Seth was already asleep on the Harper’s couch, and the Martinezes had long since gone to bed. Jake had given Fran a big hug, and she had thanked him for being there. He left Seth on the Harper’s couch; the boy had slept there enough nights, Fran had said, and one more wouldn’t hurt. By the time Jake had gotten back to his own house, Beth was long since asleep and the fire had gone down to a cinder. He had built it back up a bit to take the chill out of the air, but had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Well, I didn’t burn the house down, at least, he thought groggily. Jake sat up in bed and looked out the window. There were still a lot of clouds in the sky, and a lot of them were dark, but he could also see a bit of blue. He hoped it would finally start warming up, at least enough to melt the snow a little. He threw on a robe and leather slippers and stretched his back out. It popped more than once, but none of those pops hurt this morning, so he counted himself ahead of the game. Quietly, he padded into the living room. Trig ran up to greet him, wagging his tail (or he would have been, had he had more than a stub. The end result looked more like he was wagging his entire hindquarters).
“That you, Jake?” Beth called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, I’m up. How’d you sleep?”
“As well as you’d think,” said Beth. Jake couldn’t see her, but he could hear the shrug in her voice. “At least I slept. How late did you get in last night?”
“Well after midnight. Tom’s in pretty bad shape.”
“I bet. I remember how you were when your mother made the journey. There’s a bowl of water heating by the fireplace, and I got some more soap from the Browns. There’s a razor by the bowl.”
Jake chuckled. “Is that a suggestion, my love?”
“Yes. I’m suggesting that if you don’t want me to shave you in your sleep tomorrow morning when you laze around in bed again, you should do the job yourself.”
He shook his head ruefully. “Yes, Dear,” he said in his best meek voice. When he got to the water basin, he found it was plenty warm enough to wash up already. He did that first, and then carried the bowl over to the mirror to shave. It was slow going; he hadn’t actually had time to do this in almost two weeks, and so the hair was plenty long enough to make the razor catch on his skin. But it was recently sharpened, so he didn’t nick himself too badly. After he was done, he felt more human than he had in quite a while. His hair could use a good washing, but that took too long, and it was still too cold outside for him to think about getting his head wet.
As he was toweling off, Beth came up from behind him and planted a kiss between his shoulder blades, her arms slipping around his waist. “So, was my husband under there somewhere?”
Jake turned around in her embrace and kissed her nose. It always made her scrunch up her face, which he still thought was adorable. “I don’t know, why don’t we go find out?”
She giggled, for all the world like the girl he had fallen for so many years ago. “It’s tempting, but we better not. It’s pretty late in the morning, and I’m expecting Charlotte McEuon to come over today.”
The news was disappointing, but not altogether unexpected. “Well, your loss, I guess. I invited Rory and Charlotte over for dinner some night, by the way. Rory was at the Loop when I got in.”
Beth shrugged. “How about tonight? I can use the rest of the venison, boil up some beans, make a chili out of it.” She bent down to pet Trig. “How about it, boy? You want to see Flint?”
Trigger’s ears perked up and his butt started going again. Rory’s dog Pepper was Trig’s mother. Four years ago she had had a liter of three. Rory had originally intended to keep them all, but Trigger had proved to be a bit too wild. Even as a pup, Trig had loved the outdoors and had enjoyed nothing more than sneaking out at night. “Damned dog’s a born scout, damn me for a liar if he isn’t,” he had told Jake when he brought the pup to him. And he hadn’t been wrong. Of the other two pups, Rory had kept Flint, and had given Howler to an old Longshooter friend of his who had moved up to the Ranch. According to Rory, Howler was the best sheep herding dog the Ranch had ever seen. Of course, Rory was of the opinion that all of the pups he had raised were the greatest dogs ever sired.
Jake nodded. “Sounds good. Oh, and the Kenoshan is going to be over today, too. Talk to me about whatever the hell it is that he came to talk about.”
Beth’s face darkened. “Mother of the Mountains, can’t he give you even one day with your family?”
Jake held out his hands, trying to placate her. “I talked with him a little bit last night. He helped send Mother Harper on her journey. He seems like a good man. I don’t think he would be hanging on like this unless it was extremely important.”
Beth looked unconvinced. “Everyone’s news is important to them. Is it important to us? Usually not.”
“He made the journey from Kenosha to the Townships, in the winter, to let us know about whatever it is,” he reminder her gently. “Few enough men would risk their lives like that at all, and I can’t think of any who would do it for something that didn’t matter.”
Beth rolled her eyes, but sighed in defeat. “Fine, have it your way,” said Beth, shaking her head. “When is he supposed to be over?”
“I told him the afternoon sometime. I guessed I might be at the Harper’s late. I didn’t want him showing up before I had some caffeine in me. Speaking of which…”
Beth chuckled, and went back into the kitchen. When she returned, she came bearing a mug of steaming tea. “I assume Seth’s still over there?”
“My hero,” said Jake, taking a moment to breath in the scent before sipping. �
��Yeah, he fell asleep on the couch. Fran said she didn’t mind feeding him another breakfast.”
Beth gave a little laugh; both of them knew how much food their son could put down these days. “I’m sure Little Tommy and Abby appreciate his being there, too.”
“I’m sure. I just hope our son is wise enough not to make his move on Abby right now. I’m not sure how Tom would take that right now.”
“He’s a teenage boy. Teenagers are not exactly known for their wisdom. But I don’t think Seth is ready to ‘make his move’. I don’t think he knows his own mind yet.” Beth gave him a coy smile. “He takes after his father that way.”
“Who, me? I always know exactly what I want,” said Jake, putting a hand on his wife’s hip. “For example, right now I want to know how long it is ‘till Charlotte is supposed to get here.”
Beth squawked, and nudged him in the ribs. “Soon enough. And as romantic as a rush job sounds, I think I’ll pass.”
“You want me to take my time? I can take my time. Just hang a sock on the door, it’ll be fine,” said Jake with mock seriousness.
“Why would you put a sock on the door, Daddy? I don’t think it’d fit,” came Katie’s voice from the front door. The little girl had clearly been playing in the snow; her hood had fallen down, and there was a patch of white in her hair that told of a snowball that’d found its mark. Right now, she was looking at the door, her brow furrowed. “It’d have to be a big sock to fit on the whole door.”
“Yes, well, you know how big your dad’s feet are,” said Beth, scooping up her daughter and putting her back into the mud room. She shot Jake a look, and he inwardly sighed. He hadn't known the little girl was there when he had used such language, but he already knew he was going to get in trouble for it. She turned back to their daughter. “And what have I told you about coming into the house with snowy feet?”
Jake shook his head and walked back to the bedroom. Rummaging through the closet, he picked out his nicest shirt and threw it over his head. Normally he wouldn’t get dressed up for the McEuons, but between having them over for dinner and his expected visit with the Kenoshan, he thought he should probably go ahead and try to look presentable. He grabbed a pair of dark pants and belted them up. By the time he was fully dressed and starting to get his tangled mess of hair combed, Beth had managed to extricate their daughter from her winter clothes and set her to doing her chores. Most of those chores involved helping her mother in the kitchen today. She was too young to be trusted with knives or cooking, of course, but she could hand her mother the wood to keep the stove burning, and clean up behind her as she prepared the ingredients. Normally, Seth would be chopping the wood about this time, but Jake didn’t know how long his son would be at the Harpers, so he put on his coat and boots and stepped out into the day.
The sun was brilliant, reflecting off the white blanket covering the ground. Apparently the clouds had broken more than he had realized. It was a good ten degrees warmer already than it had been yesterday, even though the sun wasn’t quite at its highest point in the sky. Nevertheless, Jake wrapped a scarf over his face and put dark glasses on. On days like this, it was easy to get a nasty burn from the sun reflecting off the snow, and in the cold air you wouldn’t even feel it until it was too late. He trudged out back and opened up the wood shed. The shed was old, but well maintained, and it kept most of the moisture out. Jake grabbed a bunch of logs and got to work. It was hard work, especially in a heavy coat, and it wasn’t long before he had unbuttoned it.
Eventually, he lost himself in the work. Set up the log, bring the axe down, quarter the log, stack it, grab the next log. It never even occurred to him that this was the second time in less than a day that he had seen to this particular chore; somehow, splitting wood for a cooking fire felt entirely different from preparing a pyre. When he finally stopped long enough to look up, the sun was well past its zenith. Jake rebuttoned his coat and grabbed the newly split logs, carrying them inside. Taking off his boots (he knew the penalty for snowy boots in the house as well as his daughter did), he put his handiwork into a stand near the fireplace to dry out some more. He heard voices from the kitchen; Charlotte McEuon must have arrived while he was outside. He began taking off his coat as he walked in to greet her.
“Oh, for goodness sakes, Jake, tell me you didn’t cut wood in your nice shirt!” Beth said by way of greeting. The woman sitting on the other side of the counter snorted. Charlotte McEuon had been a Longshooter in her younger years, which was how she and Rory had met. Even after they had married, both McEuons had continued to serve, which had caused a lot of gossip from the women in the village. Neither Rory nor Charlotte had cared much, but it had led to the two of them being considered pariahs by most of the town (well, that and Rory’s infamous foul mouth). A lifetime of being outdoors had marked Charlotte; her skin was brown and cracked, making her look much older than her fifty two years. But she always had a quick smile and witty comment, and she was the best shot in Aspen Vale. Those qualities assured her a place in Jake’s heart.
At the moment, though, his heart wasn’t feeling anything but the cold stare his wife was giving him. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he said, hoping he sounded contrite enough. “With Seth not here, I wanted to make sure we got firewood done, especially with company coming.”
“Well, I’ll hand it to you, Beth, you have this one trained,” cackled Charlotte. “If I had said that to Rory, he would have said, ‘What the damn-all does it matter what shirt I wore? I just needed something to cover my teets with.’”
“Yeah, well, I obviously still have some work to do. Showing him how to change his shirt before he gets all sweaty, that’s next on my list,” said Beth in what sounded like mock exasperation.
“In my defense, I didn’t want to put a shirt on at all. But you said no, Charlotte was coming over, we didn’t have time,” said Jake, his face the picture of innocence. Beth turned a brilliant shade of red at that, while Charlotte let out a surprised squawk of laughter.
With that, Jake decided it was time to put his Scout training to use; it’s important to know when to take your shot and run like hell. He went to the bedroom and peeled off what had been his nice shirt. He was just starting to thrown on another one when he heard Trig bark from outside. Another dog answered Trig, and there was a knock at the door. Jake took a look at himself in the mirror…his hair was a mess again. In fact, his morning’s shave was the only thing that seemed to remain of his efforts to look nice for everyone. As quickly as he could, he grabbed the comb and ran it back through his hair. He hadn’t had a chance to do much when he heard Beth open the door and call out for him. Sighing, Jake put the comb down and went back out to the living room.
“…sure I can’t get you anything to drink?” Beth was asking.
“Maybe just a glass of water, ma’am. I sort of feel like I’m on duty when I’m here. Feels wrong to drink anything stronger,” said Beaupre. In the light of day and out of his furs, Jake could see that the Kenoshan was a well muscled man, with a round face that seemed made for smiling. He also had almost the same shade of hair as Jake himself, though the Kenoshan sported a nice crown of skin on top. Beaupre looked to Jake and gave a small smile. “Jake Larkin? You didn’t go and shave for me, did you?” His own beard was still very much in evidence.
“For my wife, actually. But I can look pretty for everyone, Mr. Beaupre. Shall I bat my eyes?”
“Would you? Oh, my heart melts from the very thought!” said Beaupre, holding his hands over his heart, for all the world like a lovesick girl.
Jake shook his head at the sound of laughter from the kitchen. Clearly, Charlotte was getting a kick out of the exchange. “All joking aside, Mr. Beaupre, please come into my office. You’ve waited a long time to have this talk.”
“Well, you’re right enough there. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Larkin,” said Beaupre as Beth handed him a glass of water.
“And you, Mr. Beaupre. Try not to keep my husband too long. He was just gone for near a
week, and I’ve missed him.”
“I understand, Mrs. Larkin,” said the Kenoshan. “I’ll make this as short as I can, I promise”.
“Good,” said Beth. She then turned and went back into the kitchen without another word.
The two men stared after her for a bit. “I don’t think she likes me,” said Beaupre.
“Don’t take it personally. I think it’s more that she doesn’t like the idea of you,” said Jake, leading him into the next room.
The Kenoshan paused. “Will River be alright outside with your dog?”
Jake took a quick look outside. The two dogs looked to be chasing each other through the snow, occasionally play bowing to each other. “Looks to me like they’ve already made friends. If they start fighting, I’m sure we’ll hear them.”
The “office” was actually the meeting room, the largest room in the house. It was a long room, with benches and tables lining both sides. “I don’t usually have much use for this room,” Jake confided. The nature of the Scouts meant that most of them were not in town at any given time. Many of them roamed between the Four Townships, as much messengers as protectors. Others, like Jake himself, would range out further, searching the forests, hills, and mountain valleys for any sign of the Gone or Nomad activity, and tracking the danger down if they found it. The only place Jake made sure there was always a Scout force present was the Ruins; at least three strong. The Longshooters generally did the sentry work for the town, but the Ruins were a maze, and the Scouts were more equipped to do patrols. Every day, men would range through the dilapidated houses and the ruins of the great wheeled metal monstrosities that had gotten them from place to place. They hadn’t actually found a goner there in twenty years, but those narrow spaces and spacious houses provided perfect places for them to move unseen. It was a lesson learned well in the years after the Awakening, when the Gone were still thick on the ground and attacks came weekly if not daily. The constant patrols also helped to keep kids out of there. Jake didn’t put much stock into the idea that the Ruins were haunted by the presence of Lord Jezias, but he did know that the few buildings still standing were unsafe, and he didn’t want any thrill seekers going into them.
Aspen Vale: A Tale of the Gone Page 8
