by Nathan Jones
He couldn't help but feel a bit defensive as he rubbed his arm where she'd hit him during their last conversation about this. “Yeah, you already sent me that message loud and clear. And believe me, you think I'm not hitting myself just as hard for leaving her, especially considering how things turned out?” Just the way everyone warned me they would, but I was too stubborn to listen. Like always.
“So go fix it!” Lisa burst out, exasperated. “You should've been on your horse riding hard for Utah the moment you knew Randall's gang was done for good, hoping you're not too late to win her back!” She paused a bit sheepishly. “After my wedding, that is.”
Skyler looked away. “I was too late two years ago, Lis. She'd already waited long enough, and told me in no uncertain terms that if I left she was moving on. There's no way she hasn't by now . . . a woman like that, guys were lining up at her door even before I left.”
“Dangit, Sky,” she whispered. He risked a glance just long enough to see tears glimmering in her big eyes and darted his eyes away again, feeling terrible. Fantastic, he'd made her cry on her wedding day.
He wasn't the only one well aware of that. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend straighten her shoulders and rub furiously at her eyes, tone becoming fierce. “I'm not going to feel guilty about your stupid decisions. I just got married, I'm supposed to be delirious with happiness.”
Without another word she turned and stomped back out to the dance floor, picking up little Connor to dance with him again.
Skyler figured that was his cue to leave the festivities early. No doubt Lisa would think he was sulking or something. But while he could stand seeing her happy with someone else, he wasn't sure he could stand being around her when he was so miserable himself.
Maybe Lisa was right, and it was time for him to leave Lone Valley.
Although he wasn't sure he could go back to Utah now. After the chance to watch firsthand how his mistakes had robbed him of any chance with Lisa, he wasn't sure he had the courage to face the prospect of Tabby married and happy too. He wasn't sure he could stand it.
He tried to be as subtle as possible about retrieving his gear and getting Junior saddled. He was sure plenty of curious eyes were on him, leaving in the middle of the wedding like this, but he ignored them as he rode off south towards the Ruiz homestead.
Ready to go or not, he still had some unfinished business.
Chapter Seventeen
Unfinished Business
It took more courage than Skyler had expected to approach the Ruiz homestead. Not because he feared any sort of reprisal, of course. But he dreaded the condemnation of the good people there who'd suffered because of his actions.
Especially Adalia.
Unsurprisingly, the homesteaders were working when he approached. And also unsurprisingly, they all paused to watch as he rode up. Just like last time, when Skyler had arrived with Adalia, Mr. Ruiz and a couple other men broke away from their labor to come and meet him.
Or confront him, more like.
“What do you want, Graham?” the homesteader demanded, looking every bit as unfriendly as when they'd parted yesterday after the confrontation with Randall.
Skyler tipped his hat politely. “Here to finish up that field I said I'd do.”
Mr. Ruiz spat off to one side. “My nephew's got that horse he earned off his mercenary work. He'll get it done.”
“No need, I can do it right now.”
“You can, can you?” the homesteader growled, scowling up at him. “You've got a lot of nerve showing up here after the trouble you've caused.”
Skyler shrugged. “Said I'd finish plowing that field, and I meant it. Once I'm done you never have to see me again.”
Adalia's dad snorted in disbelief. “You think I want anything to do with you after you got my little girl kidnapped, nearly killed?” His eyes narrowed. “You think she wants anything to do with you?”
Yeah, not much chance of that. He could only shrug again. “I keep my word. So unless you plan to run me off at gunpoint, I'm going to take the plow and go finish up, then be on my way.”
The older man glared at him for a few seconds more, then turned away. “Don't think I'm not tempted,” he muttered, striding away to get back to work.
Skyler was left alone, not exactly welcome but not unwelcome either, as he made his way over to where he'd left the plow days ago when he'd ridden off with Lisa to sort out Randall and his gang. He caught a glimpse of Adalia working with her mom in a garden near their house, although she studiously avoided looking his way.
Mrs. Ruiz met his gaze, though, and gave him a surprisingly warm smile and a friendly nod of greeting. Looked as if she was more of the opinion that he'd helped save her daughter, rather than being the one who got her into trouble in the first place.
Or at least weighed the former more than the latter.
He was uncomfortably aware of eyes on his back as he got to work harnessing Junior to the plow. He did his best to ignore them, focusing on the task at hand. In a way it felt nice to be back doing honest, hard work, rather than fighting for his life. Although he'd enjoyed helping Uncle Bob with the livestock more.
Skyler remembered being almost done with the field, but it surprised him just how little time it took to plow the last few furrows. So much so, in fact, that that as he finished up he somehow felt like he hadn't done enough. Not after the trouble he'd caused.
So after a brief hesitation he got busy pacing out and marking another field, then got Junior moving again.
There was no telling whether the Ruiz family wanted to plant more than just the one field, or even had the seed or available labor for it. But it cost him nothing to do more, and maybe it would serve as a better apology than anything he could say.
Or maybe he was just an idiot, trying to regain that feeling of welcome from his first visit even though he clearly no longer was.
Either way, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. What, was he going to head back to the Hendrickson ranch and crash Lisa's honeymoon? At least spending the afternoon doing backbreaking labor kept him busy.
Unsurprisingly, Skyler's enthusiasm for the job waned the longer he got into it, and the more exhausted he became. Still, he grit his teeth and pushed through, struggling to make straight furrows of a uniform depth and cursing to himself every time he had to redo a section. And either because he'd improved with practice or he really wasn't doing as good a job as he wanted, but he managed to finish the job in hours less time than it took for the first one.
Groaning with relief, he stared at the finished field, feeling more numb than satisfied at the job well done. Or done to the best of his ability, at least.
After a minute or so of rest he wearily freed Junior from the harness, loading the plow onto the stallion's back to return to the homestead. He would've taken it right back to the farmer Mr. Ruiz had borrowed it from, but he wasn't sure whether the homesteaders wanted to do more fields now that Fernando had a horse.
Sticking to his promise to Ruiz, though, he dropped it off without a word to the homesteaders who paused in their work to watch him. Then he climbed up onto Junior's back and started south towards the town of Lone Valley.
It was a lonely ride, seeming to last far longer than the better part of an hour it took at a reasonable pace on horseback. Skyler knew he should probably be planning what he was going to do next, where he'd go, but at the moment he preferred not to think at all.
With that goal in mind, when he rode into town he wasted no time housing Junior at Todd's stable, taking the time to personally care for the stallion. Then he made straight for the Watering Hole.
The place was just picking up for the night, an older woman plinking away at an old piano that didn't seem able to hold its tune in the corner, while a mixed crowd of men and women ate late dinners or shared drinks.
A pretty young woman on her way to delivering a tray of full mugs to a table spotted him coming in. “Find a table or settle down at the bar,” she calle
d. “I'll be right with you!”
Skyler nodded and headed for a smaller table near one wall, settling down and setting his hat on the table in front of him. “Right with you” turned out to be almost five minutes, but he wasn't complaining; honestly it was nice to just slump in a reasonably comfortable chair and rest his aching muscles.
Finally the woman was back, tucking a strand of dark red hair back behind her ear. “Thanks for being patient,” she said briskly. “What can I get for you, hon?”
“A plate of whatever you're serving, and a double whiskey,” he said. “And a room, if one's available.”
“Sure thing. You paying in silver or bullets or something else?”
“Silver.” If they were taking it, might as well.
She nodded and hurried off, leaving him to listen to the slightly cacophonous piano music and the cheerful chatter of the other patrons. She was back soon with his drink, though. “Food'll be out in ten minutes or so,” she said. “Give a wave if you want a refill.”
Skyler had always subscribed to Trapper's views on drinking, i.e. sipping exactly two double whiskeys over a period of a few hours and then calling it a night. In his current mood, though, he gulped half his drink in moments, and didn't exactly pace himself with the rest.
Just about the time he finished, a heavy hand on his shoulder preceded Robert Hancock dropping into the seat across from him. “Fancy meeting you here!” the trader said jovially. “Didn't you have wedding festivities to attend?”
He made a face. “Well you know what they say about guests and fishes stinking after a few days.”
Hancock laughed. “Even fishes that just helped them save their ranch, their livestock, the girl, and a humble trader's wares?”
Skyler just grunted and waved towards the serving girl for another drink. Her back was currently turned, but before he could wave again the man with him leapt to his feet. “Oh hey, let me!”
Before he could protest, the trader snatched up his glass and wove between the tables towards the girl. The mystery of why Hancock had been so eager to volunteer for the task was solved a few seconds later, when he slipped an arm around the young woman's waist from behind and kissed her cheek. Judging by her delighted laugh she must've been the girlfriend he'd mentioned in the store on Skyler's first day in town, and the affection was welcome.
Before long the two were back, the girl carrying another double for Skyler. “Mila, let me introduce the man of the hour,” Hancock said as she slid the glass across the table to him. “Skyler Graham, wannabe sheriff of Lone Valley.” He kissed Mila's cheek again. “And this is my dazzling girlfriend, Mila Inglesen.”
Wannabe sheriff, huh? Skyler scoffed and picked up his glass, taking another gulp; he had a feeling he was going to be blowing past his usual two drinks tonight.
The serving girl smiled gamely. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Graham.” She paused to cup Hancock's cheek with surprising tenderness, then briskly turned away. “If you'll excuse me, busy night.”
Skyler nursed his drink as the other man settled into the seat across from him again. “Lucky man,” he said, nodding after the young woman.
“You're telling me,” the trader said with a grin. “Recent events have got me realizing I should cherish what I have. Planning to start looking for a ring, in fact.”
“That so?” On a whim Skyler dug in his pocket for the ring Lisa had returned, skipping it across the table to the other man. “Here, save you some trouble.”
Hancock's eyes got huge as he delicately picked up the jeweled band. “You're kidding me. Is this . . .”
“Completely real, at least according to a man I'd trust to know.” Skyler nodded towards the trader. “You'd probably be able to tell better than I could, though.”
The man inspected it closely, then swore in awe. “This has got to be worth a fortune, Graham. I can't-”
He waved that away. “Consider it an apology for putting you in a position where you got held up at gunpoint, then spent a day and a night trussed up in a stable. Also, you know, as thanks for showing up with your posse right in time to give me backup when I went in to face Randall.”
“That's buying me a drink territory. Or maybe lots of drinks. But giving me a ring worth more than a cow? That's too much.” Hancock tried to hand it back. “Seriously, whatever mood you're in that's fueling this generosity, I'm not the sort to take advantage of a man when he's at a low point.”
Skyler pushed the man's hand back. “Do me a favor, Hancock, just take it. It's got too much baggage for me to do anything else with it.” When the man still hesitated he gave him a slightly bitter smile. “Honestly. From a man who's screwed up every chance for love he's had in his life, knock your girlfriend's socks off and have a great life with her.”
The trader slowly pocketed the ring, although he looked a bit guilty doing so. “I don't know what to say.”
He downed the rest of his drink and slid it across the table. “Say thanks, then be a pal and convince your busy girlfriend to bump me up in line for a refill.”
Hancock snorted, plucking up the glass. “Thanks, then.” He made his way over to the bar, exchanged a few quiet words with Mila, and then returned with the refilled glass and one for himself. As Skyler lifted his glass for another sip, the trader lifted his own glass and held it across the table for a toast. “Cheers.”
Skyler lightly clinked glasses. “Many happy returns,” he said wryly, then got back to his drink.
His drinking buddy took a careful sip of his, expression thoughtful as he eyed him across the table. “Funny thing, Graham . . . I've got a buddy lives out by the Cheyenne fallout zone. We exchange letters when we can, share news.”
He paused mid-gulp, staring back warily. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” The trader took another sip. “He said it was a drifter going by, inexplicably carrying a Geiger counter with him, who discovered the fallout zone had spread past its old borders. Gave the warning that got dozens of people to evacuate, probably saved their lives.”
“Huh, how about that,” Skyler said, doing his best to keep his tone and expression neutral. His mom had insisted on him taking the device with him, claiming otherwise she wouldn't be able to sleep at night for fear of him accidentally wandering into a fallout zone and getting sick like his dad.
Hancock plopped an elbow down on the table, resting his chin on his fist as he continued in a musing tone. “Crazy thing is, that random drifter somehow managed to talk the Northern League into sending aid. Then after he rode on his way, word got out from the League aid workers that he'd donated several ounces of gold to make sure the displaced folks had what they needed to start again.”
He just grunted in reply, uncomfortably aware of the heat rising in his cheeks. He'd told Kristof to keep quiet about his donation of every ounce of gold Trapper had given him when he left. Never did to let people know he was carrying wealth when he was out wandering the Northwest on his own.
The trader had noticed his discomfiture and was obviously doing his best to hide a smile. “Guess there really are some folks out there who just can't keep from helping out, even when it's none of their business.”
“Bunch of suckers, right?” Skyler said wryly.
Hancock sobered, giving him an odd look that might've held some respect, even admiration. “Whatever that young drifter is, he sure is something.” He abruptly cleared his throat and straightened, looking embarrassed as he downed the last of his drink. “Well, I'd best get back to my store before some other bandits clear it out. You take care now, Mr. Graham.”
“You too, Mr. Hancock. Thanks for the company.”
The trader glanced significantly at his mostly empty glass. “Hey, do yourself a favor and get some food in you before you have another. The night's still young.”
Wasn't that the truth. And as far as Skyler was concerned, the sooner he was unconscious and this day was over, the better.
Still, he followed the man's advice and waited until Mila came around with a plate of
fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and sauteed greens before ordering another drink. The room was already starting to spin from what he'd had, which while welcome in his current mood was also a bit worrying; he hadn't gotten this drunk very often, and it hadn't turned out great those times.
The food was pretty good, although nothing like Aunt Vicky's cooking. It was hard not to glumly reflect on the fact that he could be eating with them right now if he hadn't chickened out and fled. Although he would've been a serious third wheel now that Lisa was married, and he was probably doing them both a favor avoiding that awkwardness.
With his belly full he was motivated to nurse his next drink, taking it slow so his food could digest. He liked to believe he was maintaining the pleasant buzz he felt so it would last all night.
“So I was right.”
Skyler jumped and glanced up at the familiar voice, squinting blearily at Adalia's slightly blurry form. He had no idea where she'd come from, or for that matter what she was talking about. “I'm sure you were,” he said cautiously, taking another sip.
She settled into the chair Hancock had vacated, planting her elbows on the table with her chin on her fists as she inspected him. Kind of like the trader had a short while earlier. “I mean you finished plowing that field, then you rode off without a single glance back,” she clarified. “Just like I said you would.”
He laughed in weary disbelief. “Your dad almost went for his gun when I came around to do even that.” He stared at his nearly empty glass, feeling pretty empty himself. “I dragged you into this mess, Adalia. I almost got you killed. Safe to assume you never wanted to see me again.”
It was the young woman's turn to laugh. “From what I've seen of you, playing it safe isn't your style.” His head snapped up to look at her again. She stared back, vibrant eyes twinkling. “I had a long talk with my dad about the way he treated you.”
Skyler shook his head. “He wasn't wrong.”
“Wasn't he?” Adalia slapped her palms on the table and leaned forward. “He blamed you for what other men did, treated you like dirt after everything you've done for us. For me. You'd think he'd know better, after years of enduring the same sort of prejudice from people who hate Sangue.”
