Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The smoke had forced us out.
Only when the last horse had been secured did I allow myself the indulgence of looking back. My throat felt scratchy and dry. A member of the staff handed out water, but looking at my empty cup, I couldn’t remember drinking mine.
That painting with my brother’s face had gone. Flames had destroyed my past indiscriminately. As only fire can, it gutted the house, leaving mounds of grey ash in its wake. As I stared up at where the estate had once stood, I felt free.
Although I’d hoped God had in some way intercepted, something told me Sunaria held the answer.
I searched for her face in the crowd, but saw only tired workers, their worried expressions fading into exhaustion.
Although everyone but Roelle had survived, their livelihood had gone up in smoke along with their master.
Rumors circulated that a candle had fallen onto the bed and caused the fire.
The maid’s incomprehensible ramblings didn’t help, either.
With Miguel’s testament that I’d slept in the stables and the girl as witness to my innocence, I avoided any blame.
With no house to run, the staff disbursed, though the horses still needed tending.
Miguel persuaded me to assist. “At least until the animals are sold,” he said.
Seeing him this hurt went beyond what I thought I could bear.
The stables had been left intact. After cleaning the ashes that had blown into their stalls, it was safe for the horses to return. They grazed on the estate’s grassy fields so we could ration the leftover hay.
Taking my time grooming one of the more startled horses, trying to calm him, I knew that I delayed the inevitable.
Nothing was stopping me from going home now.
Yet, as the days rolled by, one after another, I tried to push from my mind the realization that since my arrival here, I’d never set foot off the ranch.
Miguel lay on the grassy bank, his hat covering his face, taking his usual afternoon siesta. After making sure I was out of his line of sight, I dug up the coins I’d previously buried.
I then saddled the fastest horse, which took longer than usual. The stallion sensed my excitement and acted skittishly.
Only one way to do it – gallop out of the ranch so fast that turning back would risk me falling off.
I felt a sense of dread when I tried to imagine what I’d find when I reached home.
Some fragile, deluded part of me, perhaps the last remnant of innocence, still believed I would find my house untouched, just as I had left it, cradled in the amber light of memory. That the walls would still breathe with warmth.
I rode recklessly, the wind in my ears, seeming like a whisper of old prayers and desperate hope as I clung to the madness that somehow, some impossible way, my sister still lived, that her soul had not been torn from this place as mine had been.
Where there had once been vast areas of land, cottages now lined the route here and there, the church tower visible in the distance being the only landmark. A busy marketplace had sprung up in the old town.
No one recognized me and I recognized no one.
Upon arrival at the place I’d once called home, I dismounted.
There, up high to the left of the house, was an open bedroom window that had been mine.
The property had been maintained well, so much so that time seemed to have stood still.
I wondered how much the house had changed inside.
I’d run out of this front door more times than I could count, and taken for granted the warm meals and my mother’s hugs that I’d squirmed my way out of, the bedroom where my brother Ricardo had sat beside me, recounting tales of his adventures, inspiring the most daring of dreams – that one day I, too, might hear the cheer of the crowds as I entered the bullring as a matador.
Without fear, I’d climbed down those vines that still clung to the house.
I wanted to tell that small, na?ve boy to go back.
I pushed such thoughts away and knocked on the front door.
A young girl answered, her weary-looking mother soon appearing behind her.
Agitated, my mind tried to keep up with the words the woman spoke.
The Velde family had all passed away, except for their daughter Alicia, who’d moved away, her forwarding address unknown.
My past had been stolen from me.
The happiest memories were bullied out by the worst ones. Freedom had arrived too late. Roelle’s threats to destroy my life if I dared to leave had kept me prisoner – I had failed myself all over again. Failed the only family I had left – Alicia.
I mounted my horse and galloped off, tears streaming down my face.
Then, as the truth dawned – sweet with the taste of vengeance – I knew what must be done. The right path lit up before me, terrible and clear. And for the first time in this long, cursed life, I felt touched by luck.
I rode silently into town, feeling determined and no longer afraid.