I was in the middle of fixing dinner when Damien walked in, his boots covered with muck.
"Please don't walk across the carpets!" I called from the kitchen, my hands full with the baked chicken.
"I didn't," he said as he walked into the kitchen barefoot. "You cooked?"
"I always cook," I said with a frown.
"You normally heat up whatever was left over from the night before," Damien pointed out. Hunter was watching from his spot on the other side of the baby gate, a hungry look on his face.
"True," I said as I peeled off a piece of the chicken and tossed it to Hunter, who ate it happily. Lassie laid spread out on the living room floor, her long fur painting a pretty picture against the dirty, cream white carpet.
"So how was school," he asked as he sat down, rather than helping me set the table.
"Set the table and I'll tell you," I suggested. I was tired of being treated like the boys cook, maid, and liability. I was a person too, you know?
"Grumpy, grumpy," Damien tutted. I heard the door slam open then saw Matt rush into the kitchen. I sat the chicken on the table as he stepped over the baby gate. Something about his expression scared me.
"Riah, I need you to follow me. Now," he said, his tone far too urgent.
"Sure," I said as I followed him, Damien following both of us. Hunter barked but couldn't push down the baby gate, which we had rigged so he couldn't get hurt in the kitchen. He had a habit of getting under foot during meal times, and we didn't want to trip him up.
Matt ran down the block, which worried me. Matt was a great runner, with long legs and strong lungs, but he rarely ran anywhere. He believed in enjoying the moment, rather than rushing it. So as Damien and I followed him down the street, I was growing more and more worried.
I saw it then. We were less than a block from the lot, well the back of the lot. I stopped in my tracks and sensed danger. Damien looked at me quickly, then protectively put his arms around my shoulders. I shrugged him off and walked forward. The scene was horrific. What didn't make sense, was that the kid wasn't from our neighborhood. He was a greaser, yes, but definitely not from Shepard's gang nor Darry's lot. I stepped forward slowly, before realizing the boy was very much alive. I quickly tore off my coat and ran over to him, wrapping his thin frame tightly in my jacket.
"Damien, go get the medical bag!" I called sharply. He blinked, but took off towards the house, running as fast as he could. I was much like my mother when it came to tending wounds. She had taught me everything she knew, and it often came in handy since we were a rough bunch of kids. I looked the boy over, and saw that he had a gash across his forehead, his lips were swollen, and his arm was badly bruised.
"Hey, shh, what's your name?" I asked him. He had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, and he looked no more than 11 or 12 years old.
"S-s-s-Sammy," he whimpered, his lips trembling, tears rolling down his blood stained cheeks.
"Well Sammy, I'm Riah, and I'm going to take care of you, okay?" I said soothingly. Damien returned with the bag and dropped in next to me, laying out the blanket he had thought to bring with him. Lassie must have followed him, because she trotted over to us, her furry tail dipping in the muddy, blood stained grass.
"Okay, Damien, move him onto the blanket. I'm going to try and stop the bleeding," I said quickly, pushing the small dog out of the way. She sat down, watching us with guarded eyes. "Matt, go down to the Curtis's, ask one of them to drive their truck around. We gotta get Sammy to the hospital," I ordered. This was the only time either of the boys would listen to my without question.
"N-no hospital," Sammy gasped. "P-please,"
"Okay, but I can't stitch you up out here. How about our house, is that okay?" I suggested.
He nodded weakly, so I nodded at Matt, who took off across the lot, running full speed. I pressed clean gauze to the worst of his wounds, trying to remember what my mother had told me about head wounds.
"It's going to need stitches," Damien said softly, kneeling next to me, having seen the slight panic stricken expression cross my face. "That, and his arm is going to need to be wrapped. Just like mom showed you," he said, his voice too calm, too careful. I nodded and shifted Sammy's body so his arm was elevated, resting softly on my knee. I heard the sound of squeaking brakes and looked up to see the Curtis's truck driving towards us.
"Grab Lassie," I told Damien. He did, just as the young dog was trying to run up under the trucks tires. Lassie had a thing for herding anything and everything, even trucks.
"Darry, you know who's kid this is?" I heard Matt ask as they both approached.
"No idea," he said truthfully as he knelt next to us.
"Sammy, where are you supposed to be?" I asked softly, my voice soothing, motherly.
"D-doesn't matter," he whimpered. "My folks don't give a rat's ass."
This broke my heart. I had grown up with a lot of kids who got tossed about by their folks. Normally their old man would get loaded and haul off and throw them around. It was heart breaking and made me even more grateful that our parents had been kind hearted people. My father couldn't hurt a fly, even if they wanted to.
"Who did this to you?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"T-take a wild guess," he spat. "M-my ol' man."
I took a deep breath and felt tears welling in my eyes.
"We have to get him back to the house," I said as I stood slowly. Darry and Damien loaded Sammy into the truck carefully, while me and Matt said we'd meet them at the house.
"You okay?" Matt asked as they drove off, Lassie running laps around his legs.
"I hate when I see kids like that. What are we gonna do, Matt?" I asked, tears in my eyes.
"Just what mom taught us to do. We're going to patch him up, and offer him the couch for a few days. We'll keep an open door policy, since we ain't got nothing but the dogs to lose, and we'll keep on caring. Just like mom taught us, just like dad taught us with the dogs," he said sternly. Leave it to Matt to have the biggest heart in the entire family.
Lassie more or less herded us back to the house after that. We made it there a few minutes after Darry and Damien, and I was surprised to find Ponyboy and Soda in our livingroom, everyone crowding around the poor boy.
"Give him room the breathe!" I said as I led Lassie into the kitchen. Left to her own devise, she would have herded everyone until she got stepped on. I opened the baby gate with one hand and pushed Hunter out of the way, until Lassie got the hint and trotted behind it with a smug look on her dog face.
"Silly dog," I muttered as I washed my hands in the bathroom, digging the needle and sutures out of the medicine cabinet. I stepped over the gate and walked into the livingroom, shooing the pack of guys into the kitchen.
"I need quiet," I called over my shoulder. Damien shushed everyone and left me to work in peace.
"So Sammy, right now, I'm going to stitch up your forehead, alright? It's going to hurt a bit, but you were the one who refused the hospital," I said softly. He nodded and pressed his eyes shut. I carefully began stitching the slice on his forehead, using the gentle but accurate approach my mother had taught me just a year earlier. After I was done, I taped a fresh gauze to the wound and went to work on his arm. His arm wasn't broken, but it was clearly in a lot of pain, so I wrapped a bandage around it, tight, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. When I was finished, he sat up, looking scared, but in less pain.
"Golly, you're good at that," he said in a soft tone, less scared now.
"My mother was a nurse for some years," I said with a smile. "She taught me everything I know."
"Where's your mom now?" he asked looking around.
"In heaven. My mom and dad died in a fire six months ago," I explained. "My older brothers saved me and our younger brother and sister," I flinched at the memories. I still had the scar across my right thigh from where the fire licked my skin. "The dogs woke them up, if they hadn't, we'd all have died," I added. That was why I was so protective of the two dogs. They were our heroes.
"That's amazing," Sammy gasped, eyes wide.
"Yeah," I smile. "So, you want to crash here for a couple nights?" I said with a gentle tone.
"Thanks, but no thanks. My ma would have the cops combing the town for me," he sighed. "She won't stop my ol' man from tossing me around, but she sure freaks when I ain't home by sundown," he added, a hurt expression crossing his face.
"Well, Sammy, tell you what. If you ever find yourself without somewhere to go, our doors always open. Just walk on in, day or night," I said with a whole-hearted smile. He smiled and thanked me, then asked if we could give him a ride home. He said he lived a few streets over, which meant he lived close to the Shepherd's house. I made a mental note to remember that.
"I'll give him a ride, then swing back for the boys," Darry said having heard the last part of the conversation.
"Thanks," Sammy and me said at the same time. We smiled at that, then Sammy waved as he made his way out of the front door.
"I don't like the thought of him going back to that house," I sighed.
"Me neither, but you can't stop it," Darry said as he followed the young boy outside.
I walked into the kitchen to find that dinner had already been devoured. I laughed and put Matt and Soda on dish duty, since Damien was preoccupied with trying to fix the coffee maker.
"Shoot, why don't we just get a new one?" I sighed as I let both dogs finally have free roam. Lassie barked cheerfully as she began running laps around anyone who paid her the slightest attention. Hunter, on the other hand, made his way over to the front door, where he laid down, awaiting whoever was to walk in next.
It retrospect, this made the house seem more like a home. A crowded kitchen, countless conversations going on at once, the dogs doing as they normally would, friends and family loitering, cleaning and laughing. It was exactly like our house used to be, before the fire. Except our little brother and sister weren't there. Had they been, there would have been an argument over who would take out the trash and who would clean up after the dogs. Normality. You don't realize you miss it, until you've gotten it back.
I disposed of the used gauze and left over sutures in the garbage, under the chicken bones and used napkins before walking into the bathroom, where I noticed something that worried me. The ceiling was leaking into the tub. The sixth leak we'd found.
"Matt!" I called over the sounds coming from the kitchen. He walked in and cursed. "Get a cup or something," I asked as I washed my hands.
He returned a moment later with the last of our sauce pans.
"We need to get that fixed," I said as we rejoined the group.
"Get what fixed?" Damien asked, looking up from the coffee maker.
"The ceiling. There's another leak in the bathroom," I said.
"Another one? Shoot, anymore, and the roof's gonna cave in on us," he said shaking his head. I agreed with that. It seemed like our childhood home was simply falling apart, piece by piece.
"Ask Darry to take a look when he gets back?" Ponyboy suggested.
"Good idea," Damien nodded as he finally gave up on the coffee maker. "Riah, how you feel about working instead of going to school?" he asked, a question that took me by complete surprise.
"Uhm...Sure? But where?" I asked, eyes wide.
"The ranch needs someone to work the houses, since they're a stable hand short," he suggested. That'd mean working with Damien. Everyday. Oh boy oh boy. Fun.
"Uhm, sure," I said. "Can Lassie and Hunter come too then? I think they'd rather be out there than chained up at the DX," I said softly.
"Prolly be fine. Now go get them dogs out for a walk. It's late, I want you back in no more than an hour, you dig?" he said with a tone that made me flinch. Soda shot me a look but I ignored it.
"Sure thing, Damien, no problem," I muttered as I retrieved the leashes and called the dogs over. Both got up and waited to be leashed, just as they always did after dinner.
Outside, the cool night's air and the silence got me to thinking. Not a good thing neither. I walked down to the lot and sat there, watching the stars over head. It was a beautiful, clear night. I found myself thinking about Kiowa, and how often we, as a family, would go out late at night, without the fear of being jumped or mugged or raped, and watch the stars as they crossed the night sky, only to return home to the sweet scent of hot coco and sugar cookies.
Golly. I sure missed mom.
A/n;; In response to a review I received (Thanks so much!) I want to explain why I nearly always incorporate dogs and/or other animals into my fan fictions, is because I always feel that they help me tell the story. They help me add details, and help me remember where I left off. (Believe it or not.) that, and I feel like everyone deserves to grow up around animals, so they sorta work their way into my stories, both fan fictions and any original pieces I write. :) I know it's weird, but hey. :D
As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! I thank y'all ahead of time!