Like so many other times in the past few days, Eli climbed the seps to the second story of the ranch house and nudged the guest room door open with his toe to check on her. Her hair streamed across the pillow in soft waves as she slept peacefully. She terrified him. He had no clue what to do about her being here, but he couldn't stay away. He brought her books that he ordered from the general store after buying out the stock Mason's had. The girl she was would have squealed in excitement at the piles of "friends" at her bedside. She would have found one immediately and buried her nose in it, sighing in contentment. When she wasn't reading, she would still hold onto them like talismans, letting the feel of the canvas and the smell of the glue in the binding soothe her nerves. But this JoAnna stared at them like they might bite her and hadn't so much as touched them. It was the same way she looked at him. Watching her sleep, he wanted to go and sit by her side, touch her hair, hold her hand, but he couldn't. She wasn't his. Some days, it felt like she never would be, like she was put on the earth just to torture him. He had to keep his distance, protect his heart.
Even thought Gordon was an asshole who didn't deserve her, even though he kicked her out and she walked in the cold to find Eli, until she said she was never going back, he couldn't let himself get too attached. If his life had proved anything, it was that the floor could always fall out from under him, no matter how good and stable it seemed. So, he just watched. He went in and talked with her when she asked, but he kept his hands in his lap and away from her. "You know," Fletcher called from the top of the stairs, "It's much easier to woo women when they're awake. The way you're doing it is more creepy than it is romantic."
Trout snorted. It wasn't as easy as a million dollar smile and a cowboy drawl for him. He didn't have half of Fletcher's natural, easygoing charm going for him. Still, he painted a smirk on his face and fought the words out, knowing that Fletch would have some kind of homestyle, cowboy pearl of wisdom that might not actually help anything, but would be sure to make Eli smile. "B-b-b-better than rrrrrrrroping her ffffffor at-at...attet…" No matter how he tried, that word wouldn't come out. His hands signed it, but Fletcher didn't understand the gesture.
"Attention," JoAnna murmured, looking at them wearily. She pushed herself up and made the sign again. "That's the sign for 'attention.'" Eli swallowed thickly, his feet backing him away from her as his cheeks burned with humiliation. What if she heard what Fletch said about "wooing women?" He didn't want to woo anyone but her...but he didn't want her to know about it! Fletch had him by the arm to keep him still while she reached for a sip of water, closing her beautiful eyes, as dark and warm as black coffee as the liquid soothed the lingering scratches in her throat. "What needs attention?"
Fletcher chuckled and rubbed at his bottom lip, "You do, Puss. Go on, now, rest up. I'll take care of this fish infestation so he will let you sleep in peace." He grabbed Eli in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles against the younger man's scalp. "C'mon, you! We got work to do! You think shit scoops itself 'round here?" With an award winning smile that managed to draw a whisper of a giggle from Jo, he dragged Eli away down the hall and halfway down the stairs before letting him go with a hearty slap on the back. "You ain't gonna get her by roping her, that's true 'nough. She ain't Marta. Truth be told that woulda made my first wife cry if I'd tried it on her. Caroline was a gentle soul, like JoAnna. She wanted nothing more out of life than to sit in her meadow with her honeybees and butterflies and be a mother to her babies. She loved to hear and see how I loved her, where Marta has entirely different needs. You are gonna have to talk to her, Eli. She needs to hear from you, not Marta or a note, what you want. You knew that girl inside and out at one time. Think of what you've always wanted to say to that JoAnna, and say it to this one." He paused, a teasing smirk drawing up one side of his mouth as he raked his fingers through his golden curls. "For now, though, just quit oggling the poor girl and get to work."
Eli grinned, ducking his head a bit and nodded. "Yessir."
"Yessir," Fletch imitated and grabbed Eli again, this time jumping on his back and trying to wrestle him to the ground. "Who you calling 'Sir,' huh? I ain't old!" They tussled and laughed and fought their way through the sitting room and out the front door, where the younger Fletcher's joined in the dog pile.
"Old enough th-th-that….OW! Jesse!" He couldn't keep up with the three of them and talk at the same time, but he was going to try! "That you nnnnneed to gang up on mmmme."
"Quit your bellyaching, pretty boy!" Fletcher crowed, laughing maniacally. "Get in there boys, ol' Trout here needs a good roughin' up to clear his head." The two little boys yelled and howled out their battle cries and did their best to help their father, but Trout Cooper was used to that kind of odds. His fighting skills were rusty, but their giggles and yowls let him know that he was making it just hard enough for it to be fun. He missed his students and playing with them.
Spot heard the commotion and came out to watch them from the porch. No amount of waving from Trout seemed to move him to help. Eli grabbed Jesse and threw him over his shoulder and spun him around until he was dizzy and then set him on his brother before tackling Fletcher and pinning him to the ground. He understood now why Marta and Spot ran around after one another when he first arrived, it was like reclaiming the childhood that they never had, working as hard as they did on the streets. The other boys at the Lodging house played, but not Trout and Spot. Spot was all business, even at seven years old, either selling his papers or going to do "bird work" for Kisser. Trout was too busy working twice as hard to sell the same amount of papers as everyone else to have time to play. Every so often though, Scatter would take him with him where he sold and help him out. Scat always had the best ideas for what to do with the extra time and made sure that Trout smiled the whole day. Scat and Fletch were the same in that respect. They wanted the people they cared about to be happy.
Once, when Spot was working on one of his fits and had already pushed his only friend nearly to tears before they even bought their papes, Scat took him with him for the day. He told Trout dirty stories that the little boy didn't really understand as they walked, but he liked the goofy grin on Scat's face when he told them and played pranks on police officers that left Trout's sides hurting from laughing so hard. They stopped to warm themselves at a fire barrel where three men sat on crates and boxes playing music. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Scat and the musicians watched his enamored young face with bemused smiles. Something stirred inside his heart, feeling very much like the feeling he got when words on a page started to make sense to him, like that missing piece falling into place. When the song ended, the harmonica player motioned to his mates to stop and beckoned Trout forward. "You wanna try kid?" He held the instrument out. Trout looked up at Scat who shrugged and nodded. The musician handed it over to the boy who held it gingerly, inspecting the tarnished metal, the holes that the air went in and the ones the sound came out of as if he could see into it's inner workings. "Go ahead kid, give it a go." He blew gently hearing each note before sweeping his lips along the length like he saw the musician do, making a chord that was intricate and ever changing. All of the men could see that the little boy was in love. He tested each note again, listening to the pitches they made and soon managed to toot out faltering rendition of the song the band just played. The music filled his chest with a warmth that he'd never felt before and the men cheered for him. He still felt that anytime he picked up an instrument. Playing with Fletcher and his boys filled him with the same warmth. He loved it. He loved how they all let him feel so normal. JoAnna has always been another missing piece, but he was realizing that maybe Marta and Fletcher, Spot and Darcy and all the little ones were also missing until now. He needed them all and after twenty-one years of being sure that no one needed him, that everyone was better without him, it was a scary realization, but scary in the best of ways. Still, while he laughed and scuffled, he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with Spot. He stood there at the top of the porch steps, staring down at them all, looking more disturbed than he had since he left New York.
Spot had always had his moods, and they had always swung far and wide, making the way he looked easy to see past. Eli grinned up at him as he pinned Fletch to the ground demanding his surrender. "Uncle!" he ordered. Spot just stared back with a deeply troubled look in his eyes. Hw was never one for brooding, that was always more Trout's style. Spot was quick to judge and acted without remorse. Seeing him mulling and stewing over something was strange and unnerving. It worried Trout, but not enough to quit playing. He pressed harder on Fletcher's back. "Ssssssay it!"
"Nope! I won't say it!" Fletch laughed as he writhed and shifted, trying to find some way out of the hold Eli had on him. They were coated in a silty layer of red dirt that stuck to their skin, hair and clothes like paint. It was hard to see what arms and legs belonged to which person anymore. The boys barreled back over and flopped on top of Eli, knocking the wind out of their father as the weight of all three of them collapsed on him. "Uncle," he finally grunted through constricted lungs. "I give. Get off." Eli sniggered and stood up, taking the two boys with him, one hanging off of each arm. He shook Will off and leaned down to haul Fletch to his feet. The cowboy looked a bit rattled and shaky, but somehow managed to glare and grin at the same time. "Don't say it," he warned, dusting himself off.
"Old," was all Eli had to say and the fight was on again, with the boys laughing and trying to jump in again. He moved with precision and control, just like he always had back when he was Spot's main muscle. His body knew what to do, the challenge was to keep control so that it remained play. He could only figure that was what was stopping Spot. Restraint had never been his strong suite, and since his time in the tenement, it was his daily struggle. Still, Eli wanted his friend to feel the happiness he did. He wanted Spot to smile and get relief from whatever was burdening him. "Spot!" he cried, laughing, but Spot turned and went back into the house. Trout stopped in his tracks and watched him go in. "Ssssssssomething's wrrrr-wrong with him." Their fun was over, even though Will and Jesse were still rolling around in the dirt laughing and yelling.
Spot seemed intent on fighting this battle alone and stomped away, slamming the door of he and Darcy's little house. Fletcher whistled through his teeth. "Been a long time since I seen him take one of his…hard times this way." He stood up and began brushing the silty red dirt off of his clothes and shaking it out of his hair. "Darcy'll kill me if I go in there like this. I'll see to him after we wash up. You go finish that fence on the western border. Take Will since he's obviously got gumption to spare."
"Yessir," Eli mumbled again and began brushing off himself. Will bounced up at his side and took off to the barn to start putting together the tools they would need.
They had all of their tools loaded up and were setting out to do what Fletch asked of them when Marta came out to the porch. "Eli, she's asking for you. Will, come have something to eat while Eli takes care of this." She smiled warmly at him, though her eyes were worried as he rushed past. He didn't pause at that, or even notice. Jo wanted him by her side.
He took the stairs two at a time and bounded in her door like an overly eager pup, nearly falling over his own feet. She startled out of a daydream, her dark eyes fearful and he could have kicked himself. Though he has cleaned up after his play fight with Fletcher, he suddenly felt dusty and not good enough to be there. He fidgeted and squirmed, brushing imaginary dust off of his clothes. "Mmmmmmmmarta sssssaid you w-wanted me to c-c-come..." he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to shrink his large frame.
She nodded absently, her eyes drifting back to stare out the window. The knuckles of her left hand pressed into her breastbone, dragging up and down. He could swear he heard them, knocking along the ridges of her ribs, she pressed so hard. "Where do you go when you're not with me?" she asked quietly. Thankfully her voice was strong and loud enough now to cover the sound.
He pulled the chair close to the bed and sat with a flop. She didn't seem excited that he was there. She didn't seem…anything. She was empty. This new JoAnna was so subdued, so different he never knew where he stood with her, so he answered, in hopes that she might open up. "Wh-where…ever Ffffffletch tells me to."
Her brow furrowed even as her lips smiled. "It's so strange to hear you speak." He looked away, hunching his shoulders. "Eli…" she whispered sadly. "I didn't mean it like that. It's wonderful; I'm just not used to it." She sighed sadly and looked back to the window before mournfully asking, "Don't you sign at all now?" as if it was something she missed.
'With Clairey,' he answered with his hands, smiling up at her through his eyelashes. She laid back against her pillows as a little contented burst of breath released from her lips. 'No one understands here. I taught Buttercup a little, but…' He dropped his hands to his lap with a thud. "B-b-b-but I llllearned so that I c-c-could talk to them. Sssssso, I talk. T-talk with me."
She nodded, her sadness palpable. "Where do you sleep?" Her voice broke and he nearly did too.
"C-c-c-c-c-cabin." He stood and went to the window, unable to sit any longer. He pointed at the little cabin, just the same as Spot and Darcy's, but on the other side where he and Jim, the ranch hand who had been working the land and the cattle beside Fletcher's father for as long as Fletch could remember, slept at night. It irked Marta that he insisted on moving out there after the first week or so, but he had to. He wanted his family, but having their happily ever afters shoved in his face every minute of every day. He needed that time away from them.
She sat up again, coughing a bit. "You don't live here?"
He sucked in a deep breath and held it. Between the amount of words the explanation would take and how little he wanted her to know that he went running after Marta and Spot because he was depressed and lonely in New York, and now he was depressed and lonely here, he knew it would be hard to get out. "It's hhhhhere, just not in the hhhouse." Another deep breath and he raised his eyes from the roof of his cabin. Wishing he was there instead of with her wouldn't fix anything between them. "This wwwwas mmmmmy room. I wwwwwanted ow-out." He wandered back over and flopped down into the chair again. "Nnnnnneeded to be….'llllllone."
She laughed, but it sounded somehow more like a sob. "You hate being alone. You always hated it."
He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah."
"You need them, Eli," she whispered. "Hold them close. Don't run away from them." She sniffled. "You don't need me." He jolted upright, staring at her wide-eyed. "You need to let me go so that you can find someone….someone who deserves someone as wonderful as you are." A tiny sob escaped her, followed by a stronger cough. "Run away from me. You can't love anyone else while you wait for me."
"Jo," he pleaded, trying to take her hand, but she pulled it away.
"No," she yelped. "Go. Don't come up here again, Eli. Not to check on me. Not to bring me books. Run away. I'll be out of your life soon enough. Gordon will come and take me back home." He face hardened, her tears evaporating at the sound of her husband's name falling from her lips. "He always pulls me back." She turned her eyes back to him, but all the warmth was gone. They were dull and flat as coal. "Don't let me do the same to you." He stood, feeling like he couldn't make his muscles that worked so fluidly earlier, function. His motions were jerking and mechanical as he made his way to the door.
Before he left though, he turned to her, 'I'll go, but only because you asked. If he shows up here, I won't let him take you. You deserve so much more than being jerked around. You deserve Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff, Mr. Rochester and Levin. You deserve Romeo. Don't settle for anything less.' He couldn't look her in the eye as he finished the last few signs, and shoved his hands in his pockets when he was done, leaving the room just like she asked. Her rough sobs followed him down the stairs. He ignored Will's cries for him to wait as he grabbed the tools and hauled himself up onto a wagon, driving the horses out to the border of the property to work in peace, refusing to obey any of JoAnna's demands.