Sweetwater

by Lisa Henry

  Elijah wanted to feel the press of the blade in his right boot. He turned his ankle until he did. The blade was still there, solid, waiting. Nothing had changed.

  He just had to get close enough to Francis McCreedy to use it.

  Grady being there made no difference.

  Elijah’s heart beat fast as they crossed the second stream. The mud swirled around Dulcie’s hooves. Elijah put his hand on her solid neck, feeling the warmth of her, her heartbeat under the short, coarse hairs. She was muscle and sinew, and Elijah knew how to cut right through that. Was no different with a man.

  Elijah had seen enough men cut up on that old kitchen table in the cabin. Cut up, stitched up, and sometimes boxed up. Seen flesh peeled back and bone and muscle exposed. Seen blood pumping out of severed veins.

  No different at all.

  “You think so?” Grady had asked back at the cabin.

  Maybe it was the soul he’d been talking about. If there was such a thing, then Elijah’s was already condemned for his sins, and so was Francis McCreedy’s.

  Elijah swiped his tongue over his dry lips as they approached Adavale. He squinted through the trees, but he didn’t see anyone. Didn’t even see their mule. He spurred Dulcie on.

  No.

  Not after he’d steeled himself for this.

  His breath catching in his throat, Elijah slid down from the saddle. He kicked up dust as he walked into the camp.

  No.

  Empty. Fucking empty.

  The camp was abandoned. There was nothing left but the shack that was hardly better than a lean-to anyway and would never have seen the McCreedy boys through the winter. They’d wanted a press? They should have asked for a fucking cabin. Fucking amateurs. Elijah hoped that wherever they were headed, the mountains took them first. He kicked at the dirt and spat.

  Then, suddenly, his sense of loss overtook him, as great now as what he’d felt when he’d realized Dr. Carter was dead. It hit him like a punch to the gut. He almost staggered with the force of it.

  “Hey.”

  Elijah flinched as Grady put a hand on his shoulder.

  “These boys run out on you?” Grady asked.

  Elijah couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to. Blood roared in his skull. He stared blankly at Grady, then at the camp again. A lizard scuttled out of the abandoned arrastra.

  “It ain’t the first time I’ve seen that happen,” Grady said. “Doesn’t look like they cheated you out of much anyhow. I bet they dug up nothing but rocks here.”

  “It’s not that,” Elijah said. “I don’t care about gold.”

  “Everyone cares about gold,” Grady said.

  Elijah frowned and pushed him away. “I don’t! The claim didn’t cost nothing!”

  Grady tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

  “Dr. Carter got given it,” Elijah said. “For payment. He knew it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on.”

  “So why are we here?” Grady asked.

  “I was looking for one of them,” Elijah said. He fixed his gaze on the ground. “The one that killed Dr. Carter.”

  Grady said something, something that Elijah didn’t catch. He raised his gaze again and watched as Grady’s lips moved. “That why you put a knife in your boot this morning?”

  For a second Elijah thought about denying it, but there was no point. No point at all to anything now. He nodded.

  “You were gonna ride all the way out here to kill a man?” Grady asked.

  Elijah nodded again. Seemed stupid now. Seemed like the sort of plan a dumb kid would make. Seemed like a fantasy.

  Simple deaf cunt.

  “Only,” Elijah began, staring at the dirt. His breath caught, his voice hitched. “Only had that one plan. What . . . what . . .”

  What am I supposed to do now?

  Grady reached out for him, and Elijah twisted away. He began to run. He ran through the camp and scrambled up the encircling ridge, the thin branches of the wind-warped trees whipping his face. Tears stung his eyes. He burst free of the trees at the top of the ridge and found himself staring at Harry McCreedy’s grave, at the lopsided cross pointing toward the South Pass.

  Pointing to the undiscovered country, to places Elijah had never gone.

  “South Pass City is the end of the road for us.”

  Elijah’s dream-self might have followed the winding Trail west with the laughing ghosts of his sisters, but Elijah never would.

  He knelt on Harry McCreedy’s lonely grave and dug his fingers into the dirt. He thought he could hear Grady calling out his name, maybe, or maybe it was just the wind.

  “Brief sorrow and short-lived care,” he murmured but couldn’t remember the rest of the hymn. Was Harry McCreedy in a better place? Had he been a good man? Maybe he had been. Maybe he was sitting in the Kingdom of Heaven right now.

  Wasn’t like Elijah would ever know.

  He squinted up at the sky. Endless blue, shot through with wisps of clouds.

  He didn’t know Harry McCreedy, and this was the wrong grave to be weeping over. He drew a shuddering breath and sat back on his knees. His right hand slid to the top of his boot, to the handle of Dawson’s spare boning knife. Elijah tugged it free.

  He held it loosely in his right hand and turned his left hand over.

  The veins were blue under his pale skin.

  Just flesh and bone and sinew.

  Elijah tightened his grip on the boning knife.

  “Don’t!” Grady grabbed his wrist and pulled it up, his fingers digging in until Elijah dropped the knife. Grady kicked it away. He hauled Elijah to his feet and grabbed his other wrist too. His face was twisted with rage. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

  “Why?” Elijah breathed, tears spilling again.

  Grady shook his head. “No. You hear me, Elijah? Not ever.”

  You’re nothing to me, Elijah wanted to tell him.

  Was it possible that Elijah was something to Grady? He hadn’t asked for that, hadn’t looked for it, and hadn’t earned it. Could a thing like that just happen? He didn’t know that it could. He didn’t even know what it was. Maybe nothing more than Grady not wanting to see someone cut his veins open in front of him, even though it was just blood.

  Except.

  “You’re someone I think about.”

  Elijah drew a shallow breath. His heart thumped. “What else I got?”

  The wisps of clouds trailed above them as Grady stared into his face.

  “You got me, Elijah,” Grady said at last. “That enough?”

  Elijah didn’t know.

  Back in South Pass City, back in his cabin, the kid slept. He looked younger when sleep caught him. He snuffled and twitched like a pup dreaming of jackrabbits. Grady put up with it for nearly an hour before it drove him crazy. He drew Elijah closer to settle him, breathing against the nape of his neck and folding his arms around his ribs. Elijah mumbled something in his sleep, and then he was quiet.

  After a while Grady’s arm grew numb, and he eased it out from under Elijah’s head. He needed to piss anyway. He shifted away from Elijah, careful not to dislodge the blankets too much when he climbed to his feet.

  He nudged the chamber pot into place with his foot, pissed, and marveled that the sound didn’t wake Elijah.

  He should have guessed something crazy was going through the kid’s head when Elijah had sought him out. He’d been reckless, wanton, like he’d thrown all his shame off overnight. He’d wanted him. The kid who could hardly make eye contact at the best of times suddenly wanted him, but Grady hadn’t questioned his luck.

  Took him until the next morning when he’d seen Elijah slip the knife into his boot to figure something was up. So Grady had followed him.

  Followed him right to the edge and then reeled him back in.

  His heart beat a little faster when he thought about how close Elijah had come.

  He climbed into bed again. Lying with his arms wrapped around Elijah felt right. Touching felt right. Mostly Grady made d
o with fumblings in the dark and whatever he could get in alleyways. Waited until the need to fuck was driving him almost mad, then looked for a man with the same itch, or at least one who needed the money. All of that had changed with Elijah. Grady had pushed his way into Elijah’s cabin, and into his life. Figured the last thing the kid had needed was a quick fuck. Figured he could use some friendship too.

  And now here they were, two bodies sharing heat, which was the simplest thing in the world.

  Grady drew the blankets down, exposing Elijah’s chest to the faint glow of the stove. In the dim light, his flesh was flawless.

  Grady leaned over him and pressed his mouth to that pale skin.

  He’d never looked at another man the way he looked at Elijah. He’d never had the chance, or the luxury of time. And never really had the inclination, either. He liked to fuck men, not marvel at their skin or their hair or every little dip between their ribs.

  Elijah had been different from the beginning.

  “Mmm,” Elijah murmured, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

  Grady splayed his hand against Elijah’s rib cage, then moved it lower. Down under the cotton waistband of his drawers to his abdomen, where Elijah’s muscles shifted under Grady’s palm as he reacted to the touch. He batted Grady’s hand ineffectually with one of his own, then sighed again and shifted into a deeper sleep.

  Grady felt a little dizzy with sudden possessiveness, with the thrill of ownership. Elijah was his to touch, his to kiss, and his to fuck. Here, in the night, Elijah was letting Grady own him. Grady ran his hand over Elijah’s abdomen again. That smooth skin and shifting muscle. The brush of cotton against his knuckles. The soft trail of hair that thickened and grew coarser as Grady’s fingers followed it lower.

  Elijah’s breathing changed. His eyes blinked open, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  “It’s me,” Grady said, shifting his hand to Elijah’s chest. “You remember?”

  He wasn’t sure if Elijah had heard him. Elijah stared at him in the gloom for a moment, then relaxed slightly. He made a nose in his throat that sounded like assent and shifted his legs apart. Grady watched as he ran his hands down his chest. His gaze followed every movement of Elijah’s hands, and when he touched the same place that Grady had, Grady almost sighed. Elijah’s hands fluttered like moths in the gloom, finally alighting on the mattress.

  Grady settled on his side. He tugged Elijah closer. Hooked one leg over Elijah’s and smiled as Elijah began to rock against him, his cock hardening against Grady’s thigh. He unbuttoned Elijah’s drawers and pushed them down. Elijah lifted his hips, his fingers fisting the blankets. His eyes were wide and dark in the night, and Grady wondered if he’d be able to do this in the daylight or if he thought the night hid all his sins.

  Grady tugged Elijah’s drawers all the way off, running a hand up Elijah’s leg. His skin was pale as ivory in the darkness. The hairs were soft. They prickled under his touch, and Elijah tried to close his legs reflexively. Grady got his thigh between them again. He closed his fingers around Elijah’s cock. “I want you to come, Elijah.”

  Elijah moaned.

  He jacked Elijah’s cock until he was shuddering and trembling underneath him, twitching and moaning, his heels digging furrows in the mattress. Elijah came with a shout, spraying seed up his belly and across his chest. Grady scooped it up with his fingers and worked it into Elijah’s hole. Elijah squirmed and gasped.

  “That’s it.” He urged Elijah onto his side, so that he lay flush against him, his back to Grady’s chest. He ran a hand down Elijah’s flank. Nuzzled the side of his neck, tasting sweat. “Get yourself hard again, Elijah.”

  Elijah murmured something and began to stroke his cock.

  Grady shifted his hand down to Elijah’s thigh. Reached around and lifted it. Pushed it up, bending the knee, exposing his hole. Elijah shivered as Grady shifted into position. Grady’s cock nudged against his ass, and Elijah pushed back. Grady entered him gently, rocking back and forth slowly as Elijah opened to him.

  They began to move together.

  Grady closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the rhythm. Tried not to relax into it and not to peak too soon. Couldn’t help himself though when he felt Elijah coming apart around him.

  Elijah made sweet noises when he came, his moans and whimpers disappearing into the night.

  Grady held him close when they were done, still half-afraid that Elijah was somehow spinning away from him, a wild-eyed boy caught in a whirling dust devil’s dance, breathless and choking, knife in hand.

  He pressed his mouth close to Elijah’s ear. “You got any family, Elijah? Besides your pa?”

  “He wasn’t my pa,” Elijah said, his voice flat.

  “He took you in?”

  Elijah nodded, his hair tickling Grady’s nose. “My real family . . . I don’t remember. I had sisters, I think, and there was a baby. I remember a baby. Mama and the rest of them died on the Trail.” His voice hitched. “Scarlet fever.”

  “You got it too.”

  “Yes.” Elijah raised a hand to his ear. “I don’t remember my real father. I just remember waking up in Dr. Carter’s cabin, and everyone was gone. He didn’t—” He shuddered. “He didn’t deserve me.”

  “I’ll bet that’s a lie,” he said gently. Elijah twisted in his embrace, shifting onto his back so he could see Grady’s face. “I’ll bet you were a good son.”

  “I kept the stove on,” Elijah said. His voice was suddenly wistful. “Made sure he had what he needed. Helped with setting bones and stitching wounds. I liked helping.”

  “Doc Carter was a good man.”

  Elijah jerked his head in a nod and looked away again. Bit his lip.

  “What’s that for?” Grady ran his fingers through Elijah’s hair, rubbing the ends between his thumb and forefinger to tease the strands apart. Coaxed Elijah into looking him in the face again. “That look. What’s that for? He wasn’t a good man? Well, plenty of men the world thinks are ‘good’ are different behind closed doors.”

  “No! He was good!” Elijah curled his fingers into fists. “Deserved better’n me!”

  “That ain’t true.”

  “What the hell do you know?”

  Grady shifted back and regarded him curiously for a moment. “Okay. Tell me what I don’t know.”

  Elijah tugged the blankets up. “Deaf.”

  “That’s no fault of yours.” Grady held his gaze. “It ain’t that bad, neither. You’re hearing me now. We’re talking.”

  “I s-sound . . .” Elijah turned his mouth down and shrugged.

  “He ever tell you to hold your tongue?”

  Elijah shook his head.

  “Then maybe he didn’t care about that neither.”

  “Wh-what I do with Crane, and y-you.”

  “Mmm. He know about that?”

  Elijah shook his head.

  “Then it never hurt him.” Grady reached out and took Elijah’s hands. Tugged him gently back into an embrace until he was curled against Grady’s chest. “You’re young, kid. The things you do with Crane and the things you do with me, they’re different.”

  Elijah tensed.

  Yeah, that was the heart of the thing. Elijah was ashamed of the things he needed, and that shame let assholes like Crane take advantage. Shame had never bothered Grady for long. There was no room for it under the endless sky. Out of town, away from folk, there was no room for shame at all. Maybe that’s where Elijah needed to be.

  “Stick with me awhile,” Grady told him. “I can take care of you.”

  I’m keeping you. You ain’t figured it out yet, but I’m keeping you.

  Elijah shifted a little closer, still taut with worry.

  Grady stroked his hair.

  “I’m going to Hell,” Elijah said suddenly, his voice cracking.

  Grady shushed him. Rubbed his back. “I got a theory about that, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “About Hell.” Grady kissed his
hair softly. “You wanna hear it?”

  Elijah nodded against his throat.

  “When I was a kid, there was this preacher in our town. A Scot. Methodist. All wind and piss.” Grady closed his eyes briefly. “And the liars were going to Hell, and the fornicators were, and the blasphemers and the prideful were, and everyone was, and I was so scared, I ran home from church and hid under my bed until my mama found me. You know what she told me?”

  “What?”

  Grady smiled slightly. “She told me that there’d be nobody in Heaven except for Reverend Flint and Jesus, and give Him a week and Jesus’d come down to Hell just for the company. Which I guess was my mama’s way of reminding me that there’s nobody without sin.”

  Elijah pulled back, frowning slightly. “You think everyone’s going to Hell?”

  “Everyone or no one,” Grady said. “Or maybe it’s all bullshit.”

  Elijah’s eyes widened.

  Grady laid a palm against his cheek. “Sky’s big out here, Elijah.”

  “Bigger than God?”

  “Bigger than anything,” Grady told him. “You and me—men like you and me—we don’t always fit with other people. So we make our own lives.”

  We. He laid that word on Elijah to see how he’d take it. Whether or not he’d buck under the unaccustomed weight of it.

  Elijah bit his lip.

  “I’m gonna look out for you, you understand?” Grady said. He rubbed his thumb along Elijah’s cheekbone until he very slowly relaxed again.

  The hardest part in breaking a skittish horse was staying patient while it tired itself out.

  Comfort was a strange thing. Elijah wondered if it was nothing more than a warm stream that you dipped yourself in when you needed, but that ran shallow sometimes, or ran cold. When Grady put his arms around Elijah in Dr. Carter’s bed, Elijah didn’t understand the obligation of it. But he figured it would cost him no more than he’d already done for the man, so what did it matter?

  He took the comfort that Grady offered him, all through the night.

  In the morning, Elijah stood in the backyard and watched the dawn steal the stars away. Pale light crept in at the edges of the sky. The day was close, but it was still dark outside. The cabin was a black shape at his back.