June 21st, 2014 - He's All That I Got
AUTHOR: carriecmoney
June 21st, 2014 - He's All That I Got
It was a hot June day when Arthur first stumbled onto my porch, muddy ta'is eyelids and grass beneath them. I met'im with m'shotgun barrel in his hollow collar; he'd laughed at me with hollow eyes and asked me to shoot him, go ahead, he deserved it. But I didn'. I gave him some chili and an old pair of pants and let him sleep on the hearth, 'nstead.
He's been here 'bout a week now. I think. Days get blurry alone out here'n the ash forests of Colorado. He's not so muddy anymore, but the grass in his eyes has jus' grown longer and wilder. He won't tell me his story, won't tell me what a fella that sounds like him's doin' out here, but the longer he's here the more I don' wanna know. He stares out at the faraway mountains and recites poetry I've ne'er heard before, since I ne'er read much poetry in my schooling days that wadn't Scripture. He helps with the chores jus' fine, but sometimes he stops wit' the axe at his feet and he's jus' not there.
But. He's got a good smile, the kind that'd make you dance wit'ta devil if he gave it to ya jus' right. He ain't got a last name anymor'n if I know if Arthur's really his first, but he's strong and calloused and he listens good. It's been too long since I'd seen anyone else, talked to anyone 'sides the trees and the larkspur. It's been nice, to laugh wit' someone to laugh back.
Tonight we're sittin' on the edge of my porch, feet in the dust and splitting coffee in my one tin cup, watchin' the sun set over my mountain view. He's talkin', talkin' about stars or forest fires or how to properly mine coal. I don't care. He's got a good voice, too. It'n tha' smile could twist me down below, and I'm worried it's already started.
He stops. Goes still. Turns his head to angle his ear to the southeast. "I should go." He makes t'jump down off the porch, but I snap out my hand and grip his elbow.
"Jus' like that? You'll up'n git without a word elsewise?"
Arthur smiles, a grin with a twinge. "It's better for you, this way."
"No." I stand to match him and grip both his elbows. Now I can hear what he's heard - horses, more than one, breakin' their ways through the ash trees. I don't care. His face shines gold as the September leaves, and I ain't 'bout to let that just run away. "You ain't goin' nowhere. Not without me."
Arthur's grin falls, and his head falls with it. "No, you can't, you're too good for my life, I won't inflict it on you."
"I don't care what you'd done before." M'damned han is shakin' when I let go of his arm to tilt up his chin with a finger, but I need to see those eyes again. "I've been bored stiff before ya, and damn me'f I go back ta that."
Arthur smiles. "Well, if you're coming, we better start running, love."
I grin, and he grins. He takes the axe from the woodpile and I take the shotgun from the barrel on my porch, and I lead him up the deer paths behind my shack, leaving the coffee cup to steam and greet our visitors alone.