Shaxoa's Gift

by Gladden, DelSheree

  There had been no new problem. She had simply still been mourning her husband just as much as Uriah had been mourning his father. She had cried, telling me how much she missed him, how hard it was to watch Uriah struggling to fill his father’s shoes when he was still so young. I had done my best to comfort her, but there was very little I could offer her. Before Notah Crowe died, I had never lost anyone close to me. Every time I thought about losing Uriah, it crushed me. I didn’t know how to comfort her because I didn’t think anything would comfort me if I were in her place.

  Uriah had come back to the house, wondering where I was, and found us hugging each other with tears in our eyes. Lina had quickly stood up and left the room with a comment about finishing the dishes. Uriah had asked me what was going on, but I didn’t have the heart to explain. His mother had clearly not wanted him to know how much she was still struggling. In the end, I told him that we had been having a girl to girl talk and left it at that.

  Pushing the memory away, I said, “Thanks again for letting me stay here, Lina. I’ll be outside if Sophia needs my help with anything.”

  “Thank you, Claire,” Lina said.

  With a quick nod, I turned away and left the living room for the hot summer afternoon and the hope that physical exhaustion would dull the pull to run after Daniel.

  8: Necessities

  The sharp bleating of the sheep was a comforting sound. Walking around the house, I smiled when the corrals came into view. Simply seeing them made Uriah feel so much closer. All through growing up I would dream of Daniel when I slept, my silent friend who was always there. The dreams were something I longed for before Uriah, but they were ephemeral, not a part of the real world. The musky smells of animals, and gritty sand that got in your shoes no matter how hard you tried to keep it out, those were real. They were connected to Uriah and brought his memory to the front of everything else. I stared out at the scene, more grateful for the wooly creatures than I had ever been before.

  The sheep milled about, eating the thick desert grasses. All but one. The solitary sheep was still in the small corral closest to the house. Approaching the animal, I squatted down to meet the curious creature’s face. It had been sheared in the spring with the others, but its coat was already beginning to grow back.

  “Hello, Sage,” I said. I rubbed the sheep’s head fondly. I couldn’t name every sheep in the herd like Uriah or his mother could, but I knew this one. Sage was the sheep that had gotten sick right before a rock climbing trip to El Rito just over a week ago. Uriah had been forced to stay behind and wait for the vet, but had thankfully arrived just in time to keep me from breaking my legs, or worse, when I fell during my first climb. I rubbed my elbow where several scabs and bruises were still trying to heal.

  Sage nuzzled my fingers looking for a snack. “I’m sorry, little one, but I don’t have anything for you right now. Maybe I can bring you a treat later,” I said. Sage was recovering without any problem, but the vet had insisted that she be kept away from the rest of the flock until he came back to check on her. Knowing Dr. Harris, the slow moving seventy-eight-year-old veterinarian, he may not make it back to check on Sage for a while.

  Standing up, I searched the land for Hale. All I saw was the pale sand spotted with clumps of desert grasses and low evergreen juniper trees. Taking my search farther away from the house, I spotted Hale working next to the large corral. Giving Sage a pat goodbye I walked over to him. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up in surprise. Four years older than me, Hale and I had never really spoken much. His younger sister, Anna, graduated a year ago, and last I heard was going to school in California. I wondered if Hale was home visiting for the summer or back in San Juan for good.

  “Claire?” he asked. “I thought you were sick or something.”

  “I’m feeling a lot better, thank you,” I said. I wondered how long what had happened in the past few days would go unnoticed. Small towns weren’t known for keeping secrets.

  “Is Uriah back?” Hale asked. He glanced around the ranch, taking in all the work he had been enlisted to do. The hopeful note in his voice was easy to pick out.

  “No, not yet,” I said. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold off the familiar pang of fear and regret. The metallic taste of blood dripped onto my tongue before I finally relaxed my jaw. It took a few more seconds before I was able to speak again. “He was here last night for a few minutes, but he had to leave again. He’ll be back soon.”

  Glancing around, I was quick to change the subject. I asked, “Do you need any help?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Hale said. He held up a large baby bottle with a tough rubber nipple. “I can’t get this lamb to take its bottle. Have you ever done this before?”

  I smiled. Uriah had taught me how to bottle feed a lamb what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Yeah, I have. You want me to try?” I asked.

  Hale tossed me the bottle with a grateful sigh. “I’m going to muck out the stalls if you don’t mind.”

  “No problem, Hale,” I said. As much as I loved horses, I would choose bottle feeding lambs over mucking stalls any day. Climbing over the split rail fence, I sat down next to the rambunctious lamb. She bleated and stamped her feet playfully.

  “Come here, Ayashe, you rascal.” In one smooth motion I slipped my arms around her waist, and pulled her close to me. She struggled to get away, not wanting to be calm for me like she usually was with Uriah. Unless I was with him, of course. None of the animals behaved for Uriah if I was around. Well, that wasn’t true. If I was just standing near him everything was fine, but if I happened to touch Uriah everything turned chaotic right away. Neither of us could explain it. I wanted to, along with a list of other oddities, but Uriah took the approach of simply pretending it wasn’t true. Ayashe butted into me and interrupted my thoughts.

  “Ayashe,” I said, “settle down and drink your milk or Uriah will be very upset with you.”

  Hearing Uriah’s name calmed the lamb at once. The little lamb finally decided to give in. Sucking noisily on the wrong end of the plastic container, she hungrily chomped at the bottle. I settled Ayashe on my lap and lifted the nipple her lips. Her name meant “little one”, but she had been a big handful from the day she was born. Her mother had lambed twins, and little Ayashe had been the one to get pushed away. Maybe she was still a little put off at being neglected.

  Sitting with the little lamb, I found it somewhat easier to force away thoughts of Daniel. Stroking the soft wool made me think of Uriah’s gentle hands. Only a few months earlier he had gently sheared the adult sheep of their winter coats before the new lambs were born. He had told me once how scared he was the first time his father let him use the electric shears.

  He said that his hands shook so badly that he’d been sure he would cut the poor animal’s skin rather than just its wool. Finishing the spring shearing after his dad’s death had made Uriah just as nervous as his first attempt. I had done my best to help Uriah shear the sheep that had been left when Uriah’s dad had a heart attack. I had stood by practically helpless the year before as I watched Uriah and his dad do most of the work. This time I had been able to be more helpful, actually holding the sheep in place while Uriah sheared them, a fact that I was very proud of. By next spring I would be ready to do whatever Uriah needed me to do.

  The bottle empty, Ayashe bounded away to join the other lambs. Her warmth was immediately missed as Daniel pounded back into my mind. She had helped me hold my focus on Uriah. As she distanced herself from me, the bond found my weakness and started worming its way in deeper. I looked up at the sun, hoping it would burn away the unwanted feelings, but my gaze stopped halfway up. A form stood on the horizon.

  Daniel. I saw him walking across the field toward me. I panicked, scrambling backwards into the rough fence posts. Cole would never have brought him back. Had he slipped away and found his way back to San Juan? I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, no matter how much I wanted to. I tried to climb over the fence, but not being able to look back, I only go
t tangled up and fell. I jumped up, hoping he hadn’t come any closer, only to find that he had disappeared.

  The field was completely bare. There was no Daniel. There never had been. I wiped away dirty tears and shuddered with relief. I was too shaken by the shock to be embarrassed by my reaction, but I hoped no one had seen me. If anyone had just witnessed that display, I was sure my sanity would start to be questioned.

  I stood up and dusted myself off, more than ready to delve into some physical labor. Most likely Hale was still in the stables. If I was still getting used to taking care of sheep, I was well acquainted with caring for horses. I felt a momentary stab of guilt as I thought of my own horses, Daisy and Dusty. Surely my mother would make sure my beautiful mares were being cared for. Uriah’s horses needed me more than my own did. I walked toward the weathered barn, ready to haul soiled hay and manure.

  The work was slow, but demanding, which I was thankful for. The physical labor took my mind off the things I didn’t want to think about, and being surrounded by memories of Uriah kept me focused on what was most important. The desert sun was still far from setting, but the growling noise my stomach made told me it was getting close to dinnertime. Sophia was supposed to take me to get my things from my house soon.

  Hale and I finished the last of the chores and parted ways. His sedan was already pulling away when I touched the door of Uriah’s home. Really wanting some clean clothes, I pushed the door open. Greeted by the aroma of Sophia's cooking, I honestly felt hungry for the first time since waking up. I could smell the distinct flavor of Hatch green chile, and hoped it meant there were chicken enchiladas in the oven.

  Sophia came into the living room from the back bedroom. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

  Glancing down at my soiled clothes, I shrugged. There was little I could do to look any better. “I guess so.”

  I was dreading going back to my house. I wasn’t ready to see my dad. I was still furious with him, of course, but I had no idea what to say to him, either. What do you say to someone who had nearly killed you? I was battling so many emotions that I just didn’t think I could stand to add one more. I wanted to put my anger aside and give all my attention to remembering every second since Uriah saved me from Jonny Begay’s fist on the riverbank.

  Sophia nodded her head and gestured toward the door. “Let’s get going then. I don’t want the enchiladas to burn because you’re dawdling around.”

  I hurried to the door and held it open for Sophia. The short distance to the car was covered without either of us speaking. I slipped into her sensible four door sedan, hoping that she didn’t mind how dirty I was. Sophia was fastidious when it came to keeping things clean. To her credit, she didn’t even glance at the bits of hay and manure clinging to my jeans.

  Sophia pulled onto the dirt road and looked over at me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” I said. I didn’t think she was really asking me about my health. She had already deemed me fully recovered. Sophia altered her question.

  “How are you feeling about going home?”

  I thought about Lina’s earlier words when she referred to Sophia taking me to “my parent’s house.” I needed the same separation. I wasn’t going back there until Uriah came home, and maybe not even then. “I’m fine going back to my parent’s house,” I said casually. “I really only need a few things.”

  Sophia’s eyebrow rose slightly. She must have caught the emphasis in my words. “That’s good,” she said. She kept watching me out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll go in with you if you don’t mind. I have something I needed to ask your mother.”

  I doubted whether she had anything to discuss with my mom. I was sure that she really just wanted to make sure I didn’t have some kind of breakdown if my dad was there. “I don’t mind,” I said.

  I had kept my voice as casual as I could, but when my house came into view, my hands clenched together. My dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, but it could have been in the garage. Putting confidence in my mom’s ability to keep things under control if he was there, I forced my hands to relax. I opened the car door confidently when Sophia rolled to a stop.

  Sophia led the way, walking briskly up to the hardwood double doors. I nearly ran to keep up with her. I didn’t want to look scared coming back to my own house. Sophia’s knock was answered immediately by my mom. Her smile looked strained. I tried to puzzle out whether there was any deeper reason aside from the obvious for her strange expression as she hugged me tightly.

  “How are you feeling, Claire,” my mom asked.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” How many times was I going to have to answer that question?

  “Sophia mentioned you didn’t sleep well,” she said. Her red eyes hinted at tears already shed.

  “There’s a lot on my mind, that’s all,” I said.

  My mom nodded and pulled me inside. Sophia followed quietly. We walked back to my room, my mom practically pushing me down the hall. I felt strange staring at my belongings and not feeling at home. My backpack sat calmly on my bed. The perfectly made bedspread dimpled with the weight of it. Walking over to the bag, I touched it softly. A sudden feeling of finality washed over me. I felt like taking the bag meant I might never come back. The sensation shocked and bewildered me. Could this really be the end of this being my home? I wasn’t sure whether that idea bothered me or thrilled me.

  “I tried to think of what you might need,” my mom said. “You might want to look through and see if I missed anything.”

  The tremor in her voice was obvious, but I forced myself to ignore it. It had to be killing her that I chose to be away from her when I should have needed my mother the most. She had always been the one to comfort me when I cried growing up, or the one to tell me things would work out when I was sure they wouldn’t. I could use some of her comfort and strength, but I needed to be where I could feel Uriah the strongest.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  To my surprise, my mom and Sophia began backing away. Seeing the question in my eyes, my mother said, “We’ll give you a few minutes to finish packing.”

  The emptiness of the room was oppressive. I tore open the bag and searched its contents. All the necessities were there, clothes, toothbrush, and makeup. But what I really needed was missing. Searching my desk and shelves, I gathered every memento and reminder I had of Uriah, and set them on the bed.

  I went to the closet in search of my old backpack. I knew it was most likely buried beneath a box of old clothes I had been meaning to give to my cousin Allison. It took some shuffling, but I found the bag and pulled it out. Turning back to the bed, I stopped cold.

  9: Home

  My dad stood in my doorway looking pensive. His arms folded across his chest in his usual domineering manner, but for once I could see a shiver of uncertainty and fear in his stance. “Claire,” my dad said, “you’re leaving again? You’re not coming home?”

  I felt sweat bead up on my face. Anger was closing in quickly, but the fear of having to confront him now, when I was so fragile, kept it from winning over completely. That didn’t mean I cowered in front of him, though.

  “What do you want?” My voice was acid, the words slipping out through gritted teeth.

  His mouth twitched at the corner. He tried to hold on to his stoic demeanor, but the effort became too much for him. Clenching his jaw didn’t keep his mouth from trembling. “Claire, please, you need to stay here. You can’t go back to Uriah. Don’t wait for him.”

  I was too stunned to even respond. The only emotions I was used to seeing come from my father were anger or disapproval. His soft words were surprising. Was he really still asking me to turn my back on Uriah, though? Wasn’t the fact that Uriah had risked his life to save me from what my dad had done enough to prove to him that Uriah loved me and would never do anything to hurt me? What was even more surprising than him holding to his hatred of Uriah was the fact that he said please. Trying to remember my dad ever using that word, even to my mom, I found noth
ing and knew that he was begging, desperate to get me to agree. I had always thought he simply hated Uriah. Why? I had no idea, but there was fear in his eyes as he asked me to change my mind. Even seeing that, his request infuriated me.

  My fists balled up in anger. What right did he have to ask me to do anything he wanted? He nearly killed me! I was being yanked back and forth in opposite directions, desperately fighting to keep control of my own life because of him, and he had the gall to ask me to do this? I could hardly believe he was actually serious. I had every right to be angry with him, to hate him even. If I ever did something he asked me to, it would be when he came crawling back to me begging my forgiveness for everything he had ever done to me, not simply because he asked me. Even if he did ever admit his fault in all of this, I still couldn’t imagine myself ever doing a single thing he wanted. I never wanted to look at him again. I wanted to escape his begging eyes, but I could not force my foot to take the first step.

  “Why?” It slipped out against my will. I did not want to have this conversation, but it might have been my only chance to get an even somewhat honest answer out of my dad. I couldn’t turn away from the opportunity. “Why did you do it?”

  His jaw firmed, but his expression remained tortured. “I was trying to help you. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

  I completely lost my cool. “Best for me! Are you kidding me! You have never done what was best for me. All you ever think about is what’s best for you.”

  The surprise on his face was laughable. Did he really think that I took his comments and plans as anything but what they really were?