Of Honey and Wildfires

by Sarah Chorn

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice muffled.

  “Get inside, Cass,” was all Jasper said. His voice carried a note of resignation that haunted me. “Get inside and stay there. There’s a storm coming, and you’ll be the center of it, mark my words.”

  Inside, Annie was baking bread and serving up hotcakes for breakfast. She noticed the red ribbon affixed to my wrist and broke down. “Oh, Christopher, what have you done now?” She whispered.

  “The shine fields are burning,” was all I could manage. There is a quiet that is more than quiet, and this is what filled the cabin then. Not just the absence of sound, but the loss of it, like it had been cleaved from us. We waited for a heartbeat, a breath, an anguished eternity for the ax of tragedy to fall.

  Then, Annie turned her back on me, on the room and I watched as her shoulders began to shake. She covered her face with her hands, and let out a low wail that went right through me. It froze my blood and turned my bones to ice. “Not again,” she said. “Not again. Oh, Christopher, don’t make me go through this again.”

  I do not think I realized the implications of everything that had happened until that moment. That one frozen heartbeat where Annie broke and let us all see the ocean of worry she carried within her. My mind flitted from thought to thought. The red ribbon. The shine fields on fire. The well of illegal shine on our own property. All of Jasper’s hidden guns. The knowledge that my family would never, ever leave this property, no matter what happened.

  My da was out there somewhere, in danger, and the world was burning. It was not a coincidence.

  He had done something, and now company men would be all over our property, looking for my da and finding all our shine. All their shine. All the shine we’d been stealing. We were already so closely watched, already a sneeze away from being outlaws just by our blood and relation to my father. This would make everything so much worse.

  “I need to tend the fields,” Jack said.

  “No,” Annie replied, voice firm. She turned to face the room, and while her cheeks were wet, her eyes were dry. “No one leaves today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. We have to see what’s going on and how it’s going to shake out.”

  “But, ma—"

  “No, Jack. That is the way of it. You are staying here. We all are. We need to stay close. Together. We face whatever comes as a family.”

  “Chris ain’t my pa,” he replied. “I have no skin in his fight with the shine industry. Why should I suffer for her blood?”

  He was right, and perhaps that is why those words hurt me so. I could see the shape of what had happened, if not the finer points, and I knew that whatever my father had done, we would feel the brunt of it until he was found. Annie, Jasper, and my cousins would suffer, and it would be because of me. Because he was my father, and the company men would stalk our land until he showed himself.

  I was fifteen, and already I felt as though the fate of these four souls I lived with sat squarely on my shoulders. A rift opened up within me, dark and foreboding as the deepest night, and from it, all of my tears spilled.

  Harriet wrapped her arms around me “It’ll be okay,” she said. I clung to her, and she let me. “Your father is a crafty sort. He’ll be okay, Cass, and so will we. No one will find that well. There won’t be any reason to use our weapons. We will survive this.”

  The well was carefully hidden, I knew that, but a person on shine can sense when there’s an open source nearby, and doubtless whoever came out here would be just that, a breath short of shine-drunk. Whatever caused the wells to burn was serious enough that they would hold nothing back. No traipsing around our yard. No sneaking about in shadows. The game would change, and we had so much to hide.

  And there was Ianthe to think about, who had taken great comfort in knowing such an untapped source of crude shine was nearby. She needed so much of it now. How could we help her if we were being watched so closely? Nothing had happened to us yet, and already I could see our careful life falling apart, unraveling at the seams.

  That first day, we waited on tenterhooks for news and got none. It was not until the third day that we learned what happened, and I daresay the isolation in our cabin had done us good, for when the company men came by to inspect our land, and pepper us with questions, we were all so genuinely surprised they believed that we’d had no toehold in the planning of such terrorism.

  What had happened, we learned, was a terrorist bent on upsetting the shine trade had somehow managed to rig some of the shine wells. Ten of the highest producing ones had blown up, killing nearly a hundred hard-working men, and shutting down nearly forty percent of the shine production. No one said my father’s name, but it was there, hovering unspoken in the air, just waiting to be given voice.

  I did not say what I thought. It was likely my da had done exactly what they said, but hiding out here would have been disastrously stupid. Anyone would know that we would be the first to fall under the company’s eye. Likely, he had dropped the red ribbon as a warning before turning tail to run to whatever furthest corner he could find.

  It was not easy, to wait inside that house while all manner of things might be happening in the world just beyond our doorstep. My father’s red ribbon dragged on me. It felt heavier than any stone, and still, I spied neither hide nor hair of my da. Days passed before I had any hint about what had fallen upon him. Days, where we all tried carefully to avoid speaking his name, as though it might summon company men who would spirit me away for perceived crimes.

  As it happened, company men were stationed all around our property, armed with weapons always held at the ready. One was always standing outside our door. We were not under arrest, we were informed; rather the governor had put us under protection so as to keep us safe from those who had lost fathers, brothers, and sons. People were grieving, and they’d need a place to put their sorrow. We were an easy target.

  Four days of this waiting slipped past, each one anxious and boiling with worry. However, things had to be done. Jasper and Jack had to work the fields. Harriet had to go to work in the general store in town. Annie and I needed to tend to the herb garden, and I had to check on Ianthe and her mother. Annie bid me take some fresh herbs over. It was a good excuse to get out of the house, and I ran with it.

  That morning, Harriet was getting ready to make her way into town with Jasper. They would drop me off at Ianthe’s along the way. Already, the air around us felt lighter. It felt good, to be getting back to the normal way of things.

  “Don’t think you lot should go into town for a while,” Tomas, one of the company men, said to Jasper that morning. Tomas was a kindly sort, with sky blue hair, eyes, and skin, broad shoulders, and a drooping mustache. His pistol had a pearl grip, and his belt was lined with vials of shine oil and powder. He was fierce, but I had no fear of him. Not like the other company men, who made no secret of their dislike for us.

  “Why not?” Jasper asked. “Is it as bad as that?”

  I made myself busy bundling the herbs I would take to Imogen’s house.

  “Yep,” Tomas replied. “Lots of people here lost men which puts you lot in an awkward position, what with your… relation. I know you don’t like us on your land, but we really are here for your protection right now. I suggest you stay out here. Let Grove forget about you until things have a chance to calm down.”

  Harriet was already in the cart, but her shoulders slumped and I knew she had been eager to get out of the house, away from this place and its stifling air. Disappointment fairly wafted from her.

  “They won’t want you there,” Jasper said, eyeing his daughter. “Not if things in town are that tense.”

  She didn’t speak, just untied her bonnet and got down from the cart. She squeezed my shoulder as she slipped past me and disappeared into the house.

  “May I take this to Imogen?” I asked. My voice was a quivering thing, a bird falling from its nest. I was both dreading going back to Imogen’s house, and relishing it. My guilt weighed heavily on my shoulde
rs, but still, I had not gone a day without seeing my friend in years, and I was anxious. I needed to know she was getting better.

  “Should be fine,” Tomas grunted. He eyed the meadow and the path I trod between our houses. There would be no chance of me hiding. Not with him stationed where he was. “Just there and back, mind.”

  I kissed Jasper on his cheek, grabbed my basket with my bundles of herbs, and ran.

  Imogen’s house was cold and dark when I got there. The door was unlocked, so I crept up to Ianthe’s room, but she was not there, and as far as I could tell, neither was Imogen. I left my basket on the porch and returned home. If Ianthe was out and about, she was feeling better, and that eased my heart considerably. I missed her. I ached for her. I remembered how ill she looked when I last left her, and it pained me greatly.

  I was halfway through the meadow on my journey home when it happened. The sun was setting, casting the world with its golden glow. Dragonflies fluttered about, and the first intrepid crickets sang their way into twilight. Black plumes of smoke still filled the western sky, and the smell of burning shine, sweet as dying flowers, filled the air.

  Ianthe’s house was a dark blur behind me, and my own a looming shape before me. I was tarrying a spell. I thought no one would mind, as long as I stayed within Tomas’s line of sight. Certainly, no one could blame me for needing some time to myself, and some fresh air.

  For the first time in days, I felt unfettered. I was so lost in my own musings, the golden afternoon, the freedom of not being enclosed, it must have taken him several minutes to break through my thoughts.

  “Cassandra?” He whispered. It was more a gasp, really. “Cass!” Louder now. Not loud enough to attract attention, but still loud enough for me to hear the desperation. I must have passed right by him on my way to Ianthe’s house. Passed right by, and not noticed. How long had he been laying there? How many hours? How many days?

  I stopped, frozen in place.

  “Cass, please hear me.”

  He was lying on his side, bleeding out in reeds of tall grass. Mud and gore caked in his violet beard and hair. He was dirty, almost beyond recognition, but I would know him anywhere.

  “Da?” I asked, kneeling beside him, heedless of how it messed my skirts, or how I must look to the company men guarding the property. “Da!” I kept my voice to a whisper, but my ardent need, my worry, my soul-quivering trepidation filled the word just the same.

  He tried to smile, and then his eyes rolled closed, his hands relaxed, and I saw the large gash through his middle. I stayed there long enough to make sure his breath still filled his lungs, shallow and rapid, but there. Then, I forced myself to my feet, and made myself walk calmly home.

  They were in a small glade a short hike from the cabin. Around them, pine trees filled the air with their unique perfume. Crickets sang, and somewhere in the distance, an owl greeted the encroaching dark. In the West, an apricot sky was being chased away by the spreading stain of night. Below them, a valley stretched in all directions. He felt like he was standing on top of the world. All he had to do was reach out to run his fingers through heaven itself.

  This was, Arlen learned, where his mother had painted. Standing here with the earth arrayed below him, his own hands were itching for brushes and canvas. He watched as the sun painted the world the color of fire and wished he had the tools immortalize the moment.

  “She’d stand right where you’re at right now,” Chris said, “and paint for hours.”

  “I can see why,” Arlen replied. “The view is unparalleled.”

  “I’d have Rose procure paint supplies from the nearest town. It cost a fortune, but it was worth it to see Lila happy.”

  Arlen sighed. “I should love to paint the sunset from this spot.”

  “You paint?” Chris asked. He had moved, was standing beside Arlen now, smiling just enough for Arlen to not only see it, but somehow feel it as well. It warmed him like the sun breaking through a thick layer of clouds.

  “It’s a hobby,” he admitted. “I do it when I have time. There’s a park in Union City with a river running through it. I often find myself there with my canvas, and my paints.”

  The teardrop sun sank below the horizon. Twilight breathed its first. Peace spread, as thick and textured as the world around him, and Arlen realized with a start, he was comfortable with it. Comfortable with the quiet, and sharing it with the man beside him. He hardly knew this place, but it felt like his. It felt right. He could stay here forever, perched on the side of this mountain, watching as the world spun through its days below him.

  “I’m surprised Matthew let you have a hobby like that,” Chris finally said. “He hated Lila’s painting. Said it took her away from concerns of the territory, which should be her true focus.”

  Arlen turned, studied the outlaw. Chris was studiously not looking at him. His dusky violet skin looked almost silver in the dim light. He ran a hand through his hair, and then shoved his hat back on his head, hiding his face in impenetrable shadow. “He gave me a certain allowance each week. I used part of it to buy my supplies. He never asked what I did with the money and I never told him. Sylvia—“

  “Sylvia?”

  “She was my governess when I was a boy, and Matthew kept her on when I grew older. She was more a parent to me than he ever was, truth be told. Matthew was always so distant, not a man I went to for comforting. He was interested in my studies, and how I was applying myself to Shine Company, but not much else. If I fell, if I needed a hug, it was Sylvia I went to.” Arlen paused. “She loved my paintings.”

  The air seemed to thicken, fill with tension. “Did you have peers?” Christopher finally asked. “Friends?”

  The question surprised him, and it shouldn’t have. Of course, Chris would want to hear about his life, how he grew up, but he wasn’t prepared for this one. Wasn’t sure how to answer it. Suddenly, his eyes stretched over the horizon, seeing not the thickening night, but his life in Union City. He’d thought it to be fine, if lonely, but now he saw it for what it was: Empty.

  “Arlen?” Chris prodded.

  “It’s not an easy thing, to be the one set to inherit Matthew Esco’s empire, Chris,” he finally admitted. “I learned at a very young age that my worth was attached to my name, and people often tried to get close to me for their own reasons. I have had my heart broken many times. Trust is not a thing I give easily.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Arlen shrugged, tried to laugh it off, but the sound stuck in his throat and a lifetime of pain and loneliness swelled up like a blister ready to pop. “I had peers, but friends? No, not as such.”

  “Did you want to go into accounting?”

  This time Arlen really did laugh. “Oddly enough, I did. Numbers always made sense to me. A number can’t lie. I’ve always had a head for sums.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “I feel like you are dancing around a question,” he finally said.

  “I am.”

  “Ask it, Christopher. Please.”

  He heard Chris draw in a breath. Felt him shift his weight from foot to foot beside him. Finally, “You said back on the train that Matthew did right by you, but all I’m hearing right now is how lonely you were.” It wasn’t really a question, but Arlen knew what he was asking.

  “I had a roof over my head. I always had food in my belly. He had the finest doctors attend me when I took ill. Sylvia is a saint of a woman, and she filled my days with love and accepted me for who I am, no questions asked. I have a fortune in my bank account, and I went to the finest schools. I wanted for nothing.”

  “You needed love. You needed family.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, so he closed his mouth and studied the stars.

  “He may have done right by you in some ways, but he took you from your people, Arlen. Maybe life out here would have been hard, and maybe you wouldn’t have had the best education or the best clothes, the best prospects, but you would have been with your people. By Fate, when my son scraped his knee,
I would have held him and kissed away the pain. I hate Matthew for not being the man you needed; the father you deserved.”

  It was those words that undid Arlen, that broke through the dam that had been holding back his feelings. Something about them that made him realize… “I don’t want to leave this place,” he whispered.

  “What?” Chris asked, his hand landing firmly on Arlen’s shoulder, a force that went right through him from head to toe.

  “I don’t want to leave this place, Chris. I don’t want to go back to the world. This is the first time in my life I have ever been able to just look at the stars without worrying about my job or things that are expected of me. This is the first time in my life I have ever been allowed to just… be. I want to stay here. I want to get to know you better. I feel real,” he admitted. “For the first time in my life, I feel real.”

  He must have spoken all of his pain, gave it words and voice and set it free because Chris wrapped his big body around Arlen’s and pulled him close. He felt his father’s lips on his crown. Heard his heartbeat, that steady thump-thump that was sweeter than the sweetest song. Home. Arlen had finally found it. Home was this moment, in this clearing, under these stars. It filled him up, heady as wine, warm as the summer sun.

  He’d spent his whole life looking for a place to put himself, trying to decide how to best fit into the world. Strange, how easily acceptance could be given. Chris didn’t care about any of the trappings of his former life. He didn’t care about Arlen’s station, or his bank account, or his fine clothes. No, his acceptance had been there from the moment they’d met, and oh, it was incredible to not just be in this moment but to know that he’d survived the battlefield his life had been.

  He’d made it home.

  “We should go back to the cabin, eat some dinner.” Chris pulled away, motioned toward the small path they’d walked up. Arlen’s stomach growled in response.

  The cabin was dark, and Chris lit a shine fire before going into the cellar to dig out some potatoes and salted meat. Their diet wasn’t varied here, but Arlen saw the garden plot out back and knew that all it would take was some seeds to get a variety of vegetables and herbs growing again. The house was remote and removed, but not overly so. Rose wasn’t too far away, and there was some comfort in being away from it all.