Ambrose
AMbrOSE
"They do somethin' different with the food?" I overheard one of the men ask as they walked back toward the worker cabins.
"Yeah, made it taste better," the other chuckled as they walked steadily, a little slow from the day's work but still strong.
I was glad no one was paying attention as I watched them walk off, feeling my nose wrinkle in annoyance. It seemed that two things were true: the men did, in fact, need better food to enjoy because their moods had already lifted in the past week. And it also seemed that putting a certain someone in a position where he could provide knowledge had turned out to be the right choice.
Which meant that same certain someone had been right about the first thing and was the right choice for the second. Which was double the reason for him being smug and sure of himself. That only added to my troubles because he’d come to the ranch already full of himself.
It sure as hell didn't help that his two friends were also exactly what he’d assessed them to be. The loud one had turned out to be damn good with his hands, and it was positively wasteful to have someone like him doing basic manual work when his skills could be applied elsewhere. It might have only been a week since he pointed out the loud-mouthed one's skills, and I had been slow to use him, but...he was good. In terms of skills and knowledge, I suspected he could challenge our best-paid worker if he wanted to. He was apathetic for the most part and had a bad attitude, but there was no denying that when it came to woodwork, he could put up a sturdy wall in minutes, and there had yet to be a repair he couldn't do.
As for the other one, he was also exactly what he had evaluated. Ranch work was dirty, hard work that went double for the clothes and boots we all had to wear to get through the day. The second man was far quieter and reserved, but he was no less a hard worker when it came to...well, anything, but especially what he was good at. I again found myself having someone superb at what they did and had to face the fact that making him dig, clean, or lug things around all day was a waste of talent. The man's fingers were quick, and his eye was good, and he could repair any clothing with less time and resources wasted than anyone I’d seen.
Which left only one person, who, outside the few hours this week I’d allowed him to be away from my watch, still remained diligently working away at the most basic tasks. It wasn't a waste. Despite the ragged state I’d first seen him in, he found a wiry strength and quiet stamina daily. If he’d been anyone other than...well, who he was, I would have praised him as one of our better laborers. In terms of efficiency anyway, because the man could work. The downside was that his mouth also did a lot of work which was not my favorite thing about him...not that I had a favorite.
A throat cleared behind me, and I turned to see Hipolita standing under the shade of the canvas stretched over the worker's eating area. I blinked, staring at her in confusion as she watched me with a serene smile. Without thinking, I reached up to grab my hat as I approached, resting it against my hip before stopping before her.
"Is something wrong?" I asked in a low, quiet voice. It wasn't like her to leave the house. Whenever I'd brought that up, she'd always told me the home was where she belonged, which, while I'd believed it as a boy, had always sounded strange, considering how much she loved basking in sunlight and smelling fresh air. As a man, though, I believed she was avoiding the men working there. No one said anything in my hearing, but I wasn't stupid. I knew they saw her, her skin color and had their own thoughts and feelings on her presence. Sometimes, I wondered if she stayed in the house out of sight for her own peace of mind or because she didn't want me to hear anything.
"Don't you get yourself to worryin'," she said with a soft chuckle, and I frowned when I saw her hand flex as if to reach out to me before she tucked the offending hand back into her pocket. "Came out here because your daddy sent me to look for you, is all."
Which didn't make me feel good. At least, I knew from experience my father would never send Hipolita to find me if he was looking to give me a hard time. Despite how stern he could be and, at times, unforgiving, he had never had a bad word to say about Hipolita. It was one of those things that always made me wonder if I really did know who my father was because too many things about him contradicted one another. And despite knowing I would never solve that particular puzzle, I still found myself trying to figure it out now and again, knowing it would drive me crazy every time I tried.
"Okay," I said, trying to quiet my annoyance at how reserved she felt she had to behave when she was out of the house. "Why you?"
"Probably because I was closest," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Or maybe he had his own reasons. He usually does."
"An understatement," I muttered, glancing around. "I'm on watch at the moment."
"The funny bit...is that he figured you'd say that. Said the two you've got busy doin' their own thing are fine, seein' as they're under the watch of whoever you assigned to 'em."
"That's two of three covered."
"Mmm, and he said the third can accompany you to the house to see your daddy in his office."
Great, not only did I have to go to my father's office, a place where only the most serious business and concerns were discussed, but I had to bring my shadow with me. "Did he say when?"
"As soon as you can pull yourself away," she said. "His words, not mine."
Which meant immediately. "Great, this should be fun."
I turned to find where Samuel had gone. Lately, he’d been making a point of disappearing, something he found particularly amusing. The only thing good about his new trick was he had yet to go too far from where he was supposed to be. If he wasn't cleaning out a stall like he was supposed to, he was just outside a barn or in the tool shed. If he wasn't digging the new fence posts, he was probably lounging in the shade of a nearby building or behind a rock formation. I couldn't tell if that was just another one of his attempts at being lighthearted or if he was trying to wear me down until I finally gave up looking for him so that he could really disappear.
I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of the first, and I sure as hell wasn't going to allow the second thing to happen on my watch.
Something brushed my side, and I jerked my head to the right, flinching when I saw Samuel looking at me curiously. I tried to stifle my surprise but instead glared at him. I hadn't heard anyone approaching, which was saying something, considering the amount of grit and rocks making it noisy to walk. It wasn't the first time he'd managed to sneak up on me, and while I normally accused him of doing it on purpose, I was starting to think he couldn't help himself. Which made it worse in my mind because what the hell was he capable of doing when he was trying?
"What are you doing?" I snapped, realizing his arm was pressed against mine and yanking it away.
He snorted. “Well, clearly something was going on. You had a look on your face. Not quite like someone had died, but maybe that someone is going to die if your mood keeps going like it is."
"You'll find that any time his daddy is involved, he gets that look on his face," Hipolita offered because, apparently, loyalty was in short supply around here, even from those you most expected it from.
"Reminds me of someone sucking on a lemon sometimes, but that's mostly when he's forced to talk to me for longer than it takes to bark orders," Samuel said with a grin.
I frowned at him. “A...lemon?"
His eyes swept over my face before shrugging. “It's a type of fruit. Kind of like an orange, but different."
"He's never had a fresh orange before," Hipolita told him. "Only dried ones, and only a few times."
"Oh," he said, frowning. "I'm not sure what to compare it to then."
"I'm sure you can come up with something. You sure do have a way with words."
"You seem to have had both. Why don't you tell him?"
She tilted her head, eyes looking around for a moment before speaking softly. "I was a very young girl when I had an orange. They weren't...for folks like me. If it hadn't been for my brother sneaking one out of a crate for me, I would have never had one. I don't remember it much, but I remember how he laughed at the face I made."
I didn't miss the way her lips curled ever so slightly at the corners at the mention of her brother. Before I could stop him, Samuel spoke up. “Was he caught?"
"Not that time, but there were other things, things they said he did," she said with a small shrug. "It happened in the life I had before this one."
"Yeah," he said in a low voice. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"
"None of it is funny," I growled at him, reaching to yank him away, but Hipolita gestured at me to stop.
"What's funny?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Like most things in life that are funny, it's really not," he snorted. "But I just meant...never mind."
"No, you started this," I told him, giving him a nudge with my elbow. "You finish it. She asked you a question."
He raised a brow at me. “I just meant that there's always going to be something that people will stick on you if they want to badly enough. And if they've got power over you, then it's usually a matter of time before they use it to get the better of you...sometimes for good."
"You broke the law," I hissed at him. "That is not the same?—"
"Were you a slave?" Samuel asked her, making my mouth fall open, not just at the way he ignored me but for his audacity.
"Which you aren't…" I began.
"I was," Hipolita answered, now watching Samuel with an intense curiosity I wasn't sure I liked.
"Which is legal where you're from."
"Yessir."
"Does that mean you being here is breaking the law?"
"Enough," I snapped, not needing an education to see what he was trying to say. "Don't you dare use her life to make your?—"
"Calm down now," Hipolita said, chuckling and patting me on the arm, a rare gesture for such a public place and enough to calm me down immediately. "He don't mean no harm...mischief maybe, but no harm."
For the first time, I saw Samuel's expression flash not only with surprise but immediately soften as he smiled at her. “I guess you've got a good feel for people at first glance."
"Don't hurt that I think I see where you're going with all that," she said, shifting her gaze to me. "Even if this one is too bullheaded to see it."
"I see just fine," I huffed, annoyed that Hipolita seemed to take a shine to him so quickly when she'd barely spoken to him, whereas for the past two weeks, I'd been forced to watch him and keep him out of trouble. Apparently, my father had chosen the wrong person to keep an eye on him because Hipolita seemed to have him figured out. Just as annoying was the fact that I could tell Samuel liked her, whereas the only thing he liked about me was that he could get on my nerves.
Even I knew when someone liked you, they were more inclined to be agreeable and try to work with you rather than against you. The problem was, there wasn't much about Samuel that made me want to get him to like me, and at the top of the list was his absolute disrespect for the law, followed by his admitted lack of any consideration towards honor. Yet, there was a softness about Samuel I’d never seen before. While I ignored the tug inside, trying to figure out how to summon it for myself, I could only despair that Hipolita was as good with people as she'd always been.
"Well then," she said. "Seems like that's settled, so why don't you two escort me back to the house so Mr. Isaiah can speak to you like he wants?"
I watched Samuel's face closely, and if he was surprised at being summoned to the house with me, he hid it perfectly. That or he had been lurking within earshot to know what Hipolita had come out to say. I wasn't going to dismiss either option as a possibility.
"Come on now," she said and turned around a little slowly. I knew her leg, which had suffered an injury long before she'd come here, surely had to be acting up. She could call me bullheaded all she wanted, but she was as stubborn as they came, and I knew she wouldn't admit the walk out here had been slow and painful, and so would going back. She also wouldn't admit to needing help and would shrug me off if I tried to help her back to the house.
"Lord above," Samuel said with a sigh as he stepped forward. "More walking? As if this one doesn't try to run me into the ground enough as it is, now I've got to go for a stroll?"
"The Lord provides all sorts of things for us, challenges included," Hipolita told him with a small smile.
"Well, how about you provide your arm to me then?" Samuel asked, holding his arm out. "I haven't gotten much rest, and having someone to keep me going is better than slowly plodding my way to my doom while someone glares at me like I'm going to bolt for the horizon at any moment."
I was glad neither of them was paying attention when my brow shot up when Hipolita accepted his offer and took his arm in hers. I watched the way they both shifted, and she instinctively leaned on him instead. And all of it was done without any more words and without the slightest fight from her.
It reminded me how he’d known how to irritate his bad-tempered friend and yet never managed to go so far as to invite violence. Or the way he knew the sort of work they were good for and how to talk to the men about their cooking. It was also the way he knew not just how to get on my nerves but how to mentally and verbally maneuver and find just the right spot to hit with just the right words to drive me into a fuming silence.
That he was good at figuring out people and how to manipulate them wasn't a surprise, after all, I'd seen it in action. But outside selling out his fellow outlaws for their skills, essentially getting them less difficult work, I hadn't seen him use it to help someone. Yet he'd figured out how to work around Hipolita without needing to see that she was stubborn and proud. He just knew it...and then knew how to get around it.
It was easy to see how someone with his skills could land themselves in trouble, though it did make it harder to picture him as a member of the gangs raising hell all over the place. Yet, that little gesture made me wonder if there wasn't more to him than just a disregard for the law...and my patience. True, it could be a ploy to make some of us let down our guards, but everything in me, except my suspicion, told me this appeared and, indeed, was genuine.
"So," Hipolita spoke up after a few minutes, interrupting what Samuel had started calling my brooding. "Where are you from?"
"Well, I stayed in this lovely place in the nearby town of Rapture," Samuel said, and I rolled my eyes. "Wonderful place, really, very welcoming. Why, not only was I given a personal escort, but they swiftly made sure my accommodations were ready. True, they could have been better accommodations, but I suppose one takes what one can get this far west."
"God above," I muttered to myself. "You were in jail ."
"Did you help raise him?" Samuel asked her, making my eyes widen.
"You could say I had a part," she answered.
"A big part," I interjected, unsure why it annoyed me so much.
"You couldn't have, I don't know, helped him get a sense of humor? Some love for a little whimsy in his life?" Samuel asked, glancing back at me with an expression that said I was somehow not measuring up to his standards. Which was absurd, the only person allowed to do that was my father, and I would have to take it as high praise that I didn't measure up to this man's expectations.
"There are just some things you can't give someone," Hipolita said with a chuckle. It was good that I could hear familiar warmth in her voice otherwise, I would have been a little offended. "He has plenty of other things the Lord gave him that he can use to add to this world. But he's not a mystery to me. You are."
"I get that a lot," Samuel said, and I realized it was the first time I'd heard him sound so...casual. I'd never realized it until it was gone, but before, there had always been a wariness about him. Now I was thinking of it, I was reminded of when I saw one of the ranch cats have a standoff with a snake, both watching each other intensely, trying to seem as big and mean as possible to scare the other off. Was he no different than a scared tomcat trying to make it to the barn to hunt for mice?
I didn't like that thought much.
"All I hear is someone used to hiding," Hipolita said, reaching over to pat his hand. "But don't you worry, we all got reasons to hide. I won't pry into yours."
"Oh," he said with a contented sigh. "Please tell me you're the one who actually runs the house around here because they need someone like you in charge."
"I mind my own affairs as they're given to me," she said, and I suddenly realized she’d dropped her 'guest' accent. It was only used when she was around someone new or who she didn't trust. It had always been strange and a little irritating to hear her dumb her speech down. I knew that people took one look at her and automatically assumed she was uneducated and stupid. All she was doing most of the time was confirming what most people already believed about her.
"Oh?" Samuel asked with a chuckle. "And here I thought minding your own business was just how things were handled this far west...with some exceptions, of course."
"Like the kind that lands you in a cell?" Hipolita asked, and I didn't need to see her to know she had a smirk on her face. Until Samuel had come here, I would have said no one on the ranch could do smug quite like Hipolita. Now I was thinking of it, having the two of them spend too much time together might be a bad idea, as neither of them needed help being snarky.
"I've been led to believe that sort of thing is when people stop minding their own business," Samuel laughed softly, patting her arm. "Funny how that works."
"Delightful," she said as they mounted the steps and reached the double doors leading into the house.
"This is the first delightful conversation I've had in...well, actually, it's been since...I can't remember," he admitted with a laugh that sounded surprised. I could see his face as he grabbed the door to open it, and I thought that for a moment, the corners of his mouth turned down, a shadow passing over his face. It was gone in an instant, and he turned to hold the door open for Hipolita with that same easy, almost lazy smile I'd grown used to seeing after he tried to get under my skin.
Hipolita unwound her arm from his before stepping through, bowing her head in thanks. “I'm sure you don't run into too many people willing to talk."
"This one talks," he said, smirking at me before following her and leaving me to trail after the two of them…again. "Mostly grunts, grumbles, curses, and complaining about me, but he talks."
Hipolita turned to look at me, smiling fondly. Which should have made me feel good, but the woman had raised me, and I knew her almost as well as she knew me. I knew that whatever came out of her mouth would irritate me. "He talks...if you can figure out how to avoid the things that get on his nerves."
"So, anything to do with me, anything I say, anything that exists under the sun and under the moon...and definitely don't talk about his family, especially his father."
"There's nothing you have to say about any of that worth hearin'," I told him in a low voice that I hoped carried enough warning to make him think about shutting up.
"See?" he said with a shrug toward Hipolita.
She eyed me with that same irritating fondness. “You could try to be a little less...abrasive."
"I am not having this conversation," I told her with a glare.
"He means he doesn't want you to give him trouble about his attitude while I can hear," Samuel said in an exaggerated whisper that would have carried through thick walls.
"I know," she said with a chuckle.
A throat cleared, and I turned to see my father standing in the hallway, back and shoulders as stiff as ever. The tilt of his head told me he was waiting, but not impatiently.
"Brought them just like you asked, Mr. Isaiah," Hipolita said, bowing slightly. "Can I get you anything else?"
"Not at the moment. Thank you, Hipolita," he said. I noticed the way Samuel's head tilted before straightening. I wasn't sure what was suddenly so interesting to him, but if he thought he was going to get one over on my father, of all people, he needed to start reevaluating whatever plots he had going on in his head.
"C'mon," I growled, giving Samuel a push.
"With how much herding of me you do, I'm going to start looking to see if I'm growing a tail and a little extra woolly coat on my body," Samuel quipped with a snort.
"Sheep are too smart to be compared to you."
"And you're not cute enough to be a herding dog. Yet here you are, acting like one all the same. Weird."
"Enough."
"I love a man who takes control."
"No, you don't."
"Aww, you have been paying attention. That's sweet."
Thankfully, he thought it was a good idea to shut up when we reached my father. Which was good because his attempt at banter was getting on my nerves as usual, and I didn't want my father to see how much the guy still got to me. Well, and it was more than a little uncomfortable because his comment had felt...flirtatious.
Aside from that, I didn't want my father to hear some random man trying to flirt with me. More importantly, I didn't want him to see how uncomfortable...or the kind of uncomfortable I was with it. That...taste in bed partners wasn't unheard of out here, but it was always kept quiet, and people didn't talk about it much unless there was evidence or at least enough to cause gossip. I did not need my father knowing not only was I like that , but the damned outlaw I was supposed to be keeping an eye on was flirting with me.
Yes, perhaps if circumstances were different, and if Samuel wasn't...well, him, I would have been able to look past his irritating 'charms' and find him attractive. Without knowing who he was or that he was enough of a lawbreaker to be locked up, his looks alone would have been enough to interest me. As it was, I tried not to notice and ignored it whenever he made a passing comment that came anywhere close to sounding like a flirtation.
And I definitely wasn't so hard-pressed for sexual attention that a good-looking outlaw's flirtations made my pants feel a bit too tight for comfort.
My father's eyes swept over us in that appraising way he had before stepping into the room he used as an office. He didn't spend much time in the room, preferring to keep an eye on things firsthand, but he used it to look over the books my brother balanced, take care of orders and shipments, and pull people in to have a serious talk with them.
We entered, and I nodded toward one of the chairs in front of my father's neat and orderly desk. “Go on."
"Do I need to stand and sit on your command with everything else?" Samuel asked in a dry tone.
I grit my teeth, refusing to take the bait in front of my father. Anyone else, and I would have fought him on it. Still, I knew Samuel would take too much pleasure in riling me up, and my father would question my capabilities again if he saw I couldn't stay in control of myself or my prisoner.
My father walked behind his desk, pulling out a decanter and turning his back to us as he poured. “The men have been reporting that we've been losing livestock. Sheep mostly, but goats have been taken as well. They were saying coyotes?—"
"Wolves," Samuel interrupted, and I could see his expression stiffened, lips going thin. "If there's enough dying, it's wolves. They're quiet when they need to be. And they're smarter than any sheep or goat has a hope of being."
My father turned, a glass in his hand. "Have experience with ranching?"
"No, I have experience with wolves and how they hunt," Samuel said with a thin smile. "If they're hungry enough, they'll hunt people just as much as they'll nab a few sheep too far from the flock."
My father looked him over again before holding out the glass. “The men are saying coyote."
Samuel stared at the glass cautiously but took it. “They want it to be coyote. Wolves scare people, and people avoid scary things, even if it's a scary truth. My advice? Find a way to get a pond around here and get some geese."
My father's head tilted the barest inch. “Geese?"
"They're mean when they want to be, but they're loud too. They'll kick up a noise like no one's business when there's danger. You just have to give them time to get used to all the noise, animals, and people around here first. Getting them as goslings is my advice. But they need water. Not easy to come by around here, but it sounds like your dogs aren't doing much."
My stare of disbelief broke as I growled at him. “Our dogs aren't meant to be chasin' wolves."
"Then you need better animals or something to deal with them," Samuel said with a shrug, sipping his drink. His brow quirked slightly. “This...is not from around here. Anyway, killing the wolves, which you undoubtedly plan to do, isn't enough in the long run."
My father continued to look at him intensely, showing no other emotion on his face. "Is that so?"
"Wolves don't breed quickly like some animals but spread out, keeping to their territory. But if a territory opens up? Well, a wolf or two will move into the new area, and they'll be careful. But as soon as they get big or desperate enough, they'll be back here. Unless you plan on setting up a lot of your workers and paying money to the people of Rapture, you're not going to make a big enough dent. You'll just wipe out the local population until the new ones arrive and start growing. Let me guess, the last time you had problems with wolves was...five years ago?"
"Six."
"Enough time for a pack to have moved in and grown. If they've run out of food and are desperate, they’ll be even more dangerous than a normal pack. But if they're not, you'll definitely need to get rid of them."
"Why?"
"Because that means they're used to people, means they don't have any fear of them. So if they're this close to the ranch, it's one of the two."
"They'll have to be taken care of either way."
"True, but you'll be dealing with them again in a few more years, like I said."
My father's brow finally rose slightly. “And what would you do?"
"Me?" Samuel asked, considering the glass, and I thought he was going to swig down the liquor. I was confused as to why my father had handed him a glass of the good stuff but was more surprised when Samuel simply took another sip, savoring it. "Not much you can do with this pack except take them out. And unless you plan on wiping out packs for miles around, you'll have to keep an eye on the future. After this pack is done, get better guard animals and make sure to patrol for wolves every now and then. You'll need to find ways to keep the wolves scared of people so they don't keep coming around. Oh, and stop keeping the news from the town."
I blinked. “I...what now?"
Samuel shrugged. “The easiest fix would be to tell the town and put a bounty on some hides, but...your dad isn't doing that. Which means he's been keeping the wolf population under control on his own and making sure to downplay how bad they've got. And I'm guessing they've been real bad in the past if he's worried about a few animals getting taken now. My advice? Stop playing savior and protector and let the people know that wolves are and forever will be a problem, but though you're doing your part, you're willing to part with some hard-earned cash to people who bring you bodies or pelts. More for good pelts, and even more for good bodies with good pelts, the meat is edible."
At that point, I didn't have the sense to pull my eyes away from Samuel as I stared in complete and utter shock. It wasn't that I hadn't known he was smart, but there were miles between being smart and knowing what to do with it in the real world. So far, all he had done was use his brains to antagonize me and play games with people. It was the first time, other than whatever motivated him to have his companions placed into more effective jobs, that I'd heard him do something like that.
My father grunted. “You smoke?"
"Not in a while, happens when you don't have access to tobacco," Samuel said with a shrug.
To my growing surprise, my father held out a cigar and, once taken, gave him a box of matches. “You're not a city boy."
"Haven't been a city boy for a long time," Samuel chuckled as he used the rough surface of the desk to light the match and then the cigar.
"Not ever."
Samuel eyed him, grinning around the cigar as smoke drifted out of his mouth. “Is that so?"
Unlike me, my father didn't take the bait but took a seat as he leaned back and watched the two of us. "This one's got the right of it, we need to deal with these wolves. They're becoming a problem and if we don't do something, they're going to be a worse problem. As for tellin' people...let's put that away to think about another time. For now, I need to know where they are and how many there might be."
"Which is where we come in," I said, eyeing Samuel.
"We," Samuel said, contentedly puffing on the cigar. "Lord knows you can't stand to have me out of your sight. I might actually enjoy myself without you around, and we can't have that, now can we?"
"You'll go where you're told," my father told him.
"Like bossy father like bossy son," Samuel said, as unbothered as ever. Clearly, he had no idea how big a deal it was that my father even let him speak, let alone take him seriously.
"You'll go out tomorrow early but after the sun is up. You'll find where these wolves are roaming the most, figure out how many there are, but don't deal with them. I need information. I'll send out hunting parties once we know more," my father said, looking directly at me.
"Why me?" I asked, then wondered if I’d been spending too much time around Samuel. Normally, I wouldn't question my father, but the words left my lips before I thought about them.
If my father was bothered, he didn't show it. "Because you're the one to do it. Samuel?—"
"Hm?" the man hummed.
"You're done for the day, so enjoy the free time you have until you leave tomorrow morning with my son," my father said. "Starting now."
"Ahh, the sweet taste of temporary, conditional freedom," Samuel said as if he’d just been handed a pardon. "You two have fun."
I didn't dare protest as Samuel turned to walk out. I might have given Samuel credit and thought he knew that when my father spoke, you went along with what he said and didn't question it, but I knew better. He was simply happy he was being given the chance to get away from me to do whatever he wanted without me keeping an eye on him.
Samuel stopped beside me and leaned in, making me tense at his proximity as he dropped his voice to a low whisper. "He's choosing you because he's not sold on the idea that the town should be told, and he doesn't want anyone else to know about it, even the men around here. He wants us to do the looking, and when he has the lay of the land, he will send out men to do the job. That way, if gossip starts, it'll start when he's doing the best job possible and not a moment before."
I couldn't be sure whether my father heard what was said since he wasn't the type to give anything away, but Samuel had spoken incredibly low and leaned in close to say it before continuing on, whistling a tune I didn't recognize. However, my father's eyes never left my face, and I fought to keep my expression as neutral as possible. Not that I would have any way of knowing if I gave anything away, as the stone face staring at me gave me nothing to work with.
The office door clicked softly as Samuel closed it behind him. My father's gaze never left me as the sound of the door left a silence behind that was far louder than any conversation as it stretched onward. All I could do was stand and stare back at my father, waiting for the inevitable question about what he probably didn't hear and figure out how I was going to answer so that?—
"That one is far too smart for what he's being put to do," he said, leaning back in his seat. "You are better than that."
"Than him? I should hope so," I shot out before thinking and then clenched my jaw before I followed up, knowing my father wasn't done speaking.
"None of us are better or worse under His eyes," my father said before clearing his throat. "You're being wasteful. Whether you know what I mean or not, you're being wasteful."
Of what? Was the question at the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back, dipping my head and taking the criticism for what it was rather than questioning it. Clearly, my father had seen value in whatever Samuel had offered, but how could I explain? How could I explain that a clever man wasn't always smart? That good ideas weren't always the same as good execution? Or that his good ideas had led to good execution the few times he'd offered them, but at the same time, Samuel was a man who couldn't be trusted no matter how smart he sounded?
It wasn't my job to offer criticisms after all, and I swallowed them down, no matter how bitter they tasted.
"We need an idea of what we're working with before we move forward," my father said, clearly done with the conversation and moving on to business again. "Facts are more important than anything else, so you will do that. You'll take him as well since you clearly think he can't be controlled without you around. I suppose we'll find out if he's trustworthy once you're both out there together."
"Or smart enough to know that killing me or leaving me just puts him at a higher risk of dying," I said suddenly, a little surprised at my continued daring.
"Do you think he's willing to die for the sake of his pride?" my father asked, sounding curious.
I thought about it for a moment and then answered honestly. “No. He's always going to choose to do whatever will make sure he comes out alive but on top. He's a survivor, but I think deep down, he's a constant winner too."
His brow rose slightly before he rapped his knuckles on the table. “Learn and see more, and deal with him accordingly. For now, he'll be the companion you've treated him as, and I hope your call will be enough. You know what I expect, and see to it."
"Yes, sir," I said as confidently as I could despite feeling as confused by his orders as usual. I turned to leave and let him do whatever it was he needed to do for the rest of the day.
And if I left the house and saw Samuel watching me from a distance with a knowing look, I pretended not to notice, just like I did whenever I felt his eyes on me for too long.