Chapter Thirty-Seven
Where the Heart Is
The ride to our homestead seemed shorter than ever, after the distance we’d traveled the past week. In no time at all, we came upon it, my heart pounding as if I was seeing a long-lost friend for the first time in years.
Our pretty house rose up from the land like a benediction.
The sky had cleared, and the droplets of rain sparkled on the shingles of the roof.
Her pale-yellow board walls shone out o’er the surrounding grasses with a newness that hadn’t diminished in the couple of months we’d been gone.
I found myself blinking back strong emotions again.
What the hell was happening to me? Now I was a married man with a home, I was turning into some kind of sensitive fella that got teary o’er everything. ’Twas probably Oscar’s influence, and the fact I actually had a life to get emotional about.
Sure enough, there was Sprite, curled up sleeping under the bench by the door, guarding the place for us.
I helped Oscar to swing down, then I dismounted, and that woke her up. She made a bleating sound and ran for us, rubbing all in and around our legs while making that strange noise, her tail up in the air as it quivered with happiness.
“Aww, Sprite, ’tis so nice to see you,” Oscar said, scooping her into his arms and cuddling her against him.
She wouldn’t stop wriggling and stretching, and she butted his chin then smoothed her cheek alongside his.
The sound of her purring was a challenge to the cicadas that had broken into song now that the rain had stopped.
“As much as I want to go right inside, we need to stable this horse and mule. We might as well unload Poke and pile everything on the porch.”
Oscar nodded and put the cat down. We took all our things off the mule then led him and Dixie to the barn. The cat followed and seemed happy to join us in the clean, bright space while we dried off the animals and put them up with some fresh hay and grain.
We stood there and watched them for a time, while they settled themselves in their familiar surroundings. I glanced at Oscar. His expression seemed conflicted.
“I know you miss her.”
“Seems strange to not have her here. I don’t—I don’t regret givin’ her to Lizzie, but it’s gonna take some gettin’ used to.”
I moved close and put my arm around him, pulling him into my side.
“We’ll get a new horse for you, Oscar, as soon as we can manage it. I know there ain’t a horse out there who’ll match Onyx, but you’ll have the chance to make a new friend and get to know a new horse soon—and that’ll help take your mind off of her.”
He clutched my arm then tucked his forehead into my neck and exhaled a raspy sob.
He sucked in more air and let out those horrible feelings of grief and loss, while I held him still and safe in the quiet of the barn.
And I realized again what a brave and selfless thing it was that he’d done and fought my own emotions as I held him.
“You’re a good, kind man, Oscar Yates. You’re the best thing ever happened to me. You saved me, I reckon, from a life of loneliness, bitterness and barely even livin’. My life is full and good because of you.”
We clutched each other and mourned the loss of his horse, with Sprite winding around our legs as if to remind us that we still had her. When Oscar’s sobs died down, he rubbed gruffly at his face and pulled away from me. He took a deep breath.
“Let’s go in, Jimmy. I wanna see our beautiful house and all our things again.”
“Me, too,” I said, taking his hand and leading him out of the barn. “Me, too.”
We left our mucky boots on the porch, with all the wrapped parcels we’d unloaded that could wait until morning.
Inside, the house was clean and quiet, as if she’d been waiting for us to come home.
We gazed about us at our familiar things that we’d barely arranged the way we wanted them before we’d had to leave.
We headed upstairs, the friendly creaking of the steps a reminder of all the work that had gone into building this place.
’Twas silent, tranquil and looked welcoming with the sunlight coming in the windows.
The sunbeams broke through the remnant clouds, dancing through the dust and spreading on the floorboards of our bedroom.
We didn’t spend long appreciating the space but got out of our wet clothes and found some towels to dry off with. We dressed in clean, dry clothes from the wardrobe, and I went down and started a fire in the stove so we could make something to eat.
By the time night fell, we were fed, dry and content to sit on the back porch and gaze out at our land.
The mountains rose around us as they always did and had even on our journey and in Telegraph Creek.
’Twas a feature of the landscape in British Columbia, and those great hills seemed like giants watching o’er us. They were strong and big and sure.
Oscar and I sat in silence. We listened to the crickets and cicadas chirping, the frogs bellowing and the birds making their evening calls as the sun went down.
When I next looked at Oscar, before darkness had enveloped us, he was sound asleep, his head laying back against the wood of the chair, his mouth open, as he snored like an eighty-year-old fella.
But the sight of him made my heart melt in my chest, and the knowledge that he was safe, sound and comfortable in my care made me happy.
* * * *
In the early morning, I woke to the birds singing and the brightness of a sunny day beginning. The comfort of our own bed and the softness of the sheets Irene had gifted us what seemed like a lifetime ago made my heart sing.
We’d made it. We’d done what we’d needed to do for Miss June and Cal, and we were back here in our dear home, with all our limbs attached and none the worse for wear, except for a pale scar on the side of my belly that would mostly disappear in time.
I glanced at Oscar, who slept soundly beside me, with his lips parted and his nose making soft huffing noises.
I turned on my side to watch him sleep, as if I had all the time in the world to appreciate him.
The ticking of the clock, and the calls of the summer birds outside the open windows were an agreeable backdrop.
After a little while, Oscar snuffled the bedclothes like a piglet rooting for a teat, and his eyes flew open.
“Was I snorin’?” he asked, in a sleep-roughened voice.
I’m sure I had a foolish smile on my face, because he looked so innocent lying there and younger than ever. I pushed a lock of hair from in front of one eye.
“Mm-hmm. ’Twas sweet.”
“’Twas?”
“Mm-hmm.” I kissed him on the nose. “ You’re sweet.”
Oscar pushed himself up on one elbow and rubbed his nose. “I ain’t. I’m rough and brave and strong and fierce,” he said, flashing me a goofy smile.
“You’re all those things, too. But you’re sleep-soft and delicate right now, and I’m appreciatin’ it.”
He blushed and pushed me away, then threw off the sheets and sat up.
“We got stuff to do. We need to get all our packs in, then we gotta go tell Irene and Clarence we’re back.”
I sighed. “You’re right. What was I thinkin’?”
“Come on!”
We got dressed and washed at the basin that I’d filled before we went to bed. Then I made some coffee on the stove, and we ate some of the bread and cheese we still had left, neither of us wanting to waste time on a big breakfast.
“You know, we can get a dog, if you want—and name him Buck like the dog in The Call of the Wild . I reckon it’d be a good idea to have a dog about the place.”
Oscar’s eyes lit up, and he nodded with enthusiasm. “Okay. Sure.”
I fed and watered the animals, while Oscar made a start on unpacking and bringing in our supplies.
We didn’t have that much, but for the tent and the food we’d brought along.
Trick had given Oscar the red silk robe with the dragon on it, and the corset and bloomers that she didn’t need, now that she was wearin’ men’s things, and I reckoned I was gonna be treated to some kind of a burlesque show one night very soon.
I smiled to myself, and my cock plumped a bit with the anticipation of that .
After getting everything sorted at the house, we saddled Dixie, I helped Oscar up behind and we headed out on the familiar path to our neighbors’ place.
It seemed Sprite didn’t wanna let us out of her sight, so she followed at Dixie’s heels the whole way, as we rode through the familiar trees and past the landmarks we knew so well, until we came out into the little clearing near their place.
There were two familiar figures in the distance. It looked like they were working in the small vegetable garden Irene kept in the summers. Oscar saw them a little bit after I did, and I could sense his excitement as he straightened up behind me.
“Look! It’s them,” Oscar said.
I laughed. “A’course it’s them. Who else would it be?”
But even before I’d finished speaking, Oscar slid from Dixie’s saddle, landed in the grass and moved with haste toward them.
Clarence turned and leaned on his hoe, shading his eyes from the morning sun. Irene followed his gaze and grabbed Clarence’s arm, then let go, gathered her skirts and started running, waving her hand with excitement.
I watched Oscar race toward her, as I thanked God again for putting Irene and Clarence in our path. I didn’t quite know what the future held for us in this place, but I knew we were surrounded by love and friendship—and I had high hopes for it.