Chapter 55

Kid

I didn't find anything else in the cabin even though I spent hours, searching high and low. When I finally manage to make my way into the old station, it's already dark, and just the light coming from the windows acts as a beacon in the night. Buck is in the yard as if he were waiting for something or somebody, and when he sees me, he waves his arms at me.

"We thought you had deserted us," he says when I stop the mare and slide off her. "Rachel was so worried that she almost sent the army after you."

"Sorry," I reply sheepishly. "I didn't mean to worry anybody. I started riding, and then just lost track of time."

Buck nods and casts a meaningful look at Lightning. "You went for a ride on… on her?"

"Uh… yes," I say awkwardly; Lou's unmentioned name hanging heavily between us. "I guess I needed to get reacquainted with the surroundings."

I know he's wondering why I decided to take Lou's mare instead of Katy, but he doesn't ask, of which I'm glad, because in fact, I have no answer to that question.

"I'll let Rachel know I'm here then," I say, and before I can walk away, Buck stops me.

"One moment, Kid." I look at him, waiting for him to continue, and after a few seconds, he speaks up, "My offer's still up." I frown, unsure what he's on. "I can help you if you decide to fix the bunkhouse. I know you said you first needed to think things through, but even if you eventually decide not to live in there, I'd like to do something about the place. I hate the idea of letting it go to decay. That bunkhouse holds many memories for me, and it's not right for all those memories to die with it."

"You're right. I feel the same."

"And I should think you must want to leave Rachel's skirts soon. She still mothers us, including Teaspoon, when she can or we let her. Living under her roof can be quite daunting."

I laugh at his comment. "Don't let her hear you say that."

Buck chuckles as well, and when he sobers, he asks, "So what do you say? You know, about the bunkhouse."

"Let's do it," I reply without hesitation. "Let's fix it."

"Shall we start straight away? Let's see… what about tomorrow after I finish my rounds with Teaspoon?"

"That sounds good. Tomorrow then."

So this morning while Buck is at work, I have a look inside the bunkhouse in order to assess what needs to be done. The place hasn't changed much from the last time I was in here. The bunks stand in the same position, waiting for the riders that will never return, and the table and the benches are frozen from the past. I remove the sheets covering and protecting them from the dust. The wooden frame of the bunks displays the effects of what I think is an attack of woodworms. In any case, the bunks will have to go even if they were in a perfect state. I can't keep them if I want to make this place my home, and I need the space where I'll place a big, nice bed I intend to buy. I'm tired of spending my nights in less than desirable conditions, and I really long to sleep as comfortably as what my pocket can afford. Despite my words to Rachel and Teaspoon the other day, I wish to settle down once and for all, and have a proper, welcoming home I can go back to at the end of the day. This is my chance, and the first step to rebuild my life.

The table looks fine, but when I place my hand on its surface, it wobbles and lets out a squeaking sound. Fixing those minor snags won't be a problem. I'll just have to tighten the screws and oil the joints. However, I don't think I'll need such a large table for just myself, so something much smaller will do better. If I fix the table, maybe somebody else might want it. Buck would probably be interested; after all, he has a family that's growing.

In the middle of the bunkhouse I spot a wide stain on the floor. It looks as if water had stayed there until it dried out. This certainly means that there are leaks when it rains, so one of the first tasks we have to undertake will be to repair the roof.

From my position in the middle of the room I sweep my eyes around, studying everything. The range, sink, and cupboards that use to form Rachel's dominion are covered by sheets as well. I'll have to check them too, but not today. There'll be enough time for that later. I think what Buck and I could do today is dismantle the bunks, put them away, and start on the roof. That'll keep us busy for the rest of the day.

Now that I'm coming to terms with the idea of moving here, I feel restless and eager. I just want it done as soon as possible. Buck won't be back for a few hours still, so I can get a move on and start doing something by myself. So I borrow Rachel's wagon and drive to town. At the sawmill I buy a load of wooden boards which will replace the weather-beaten ones on the roof.

While Mr. Jones, the owner, and one of his workers prepare the wood which they'll later load onto my wagon, I decide to drop by Tompkins'. The shopkeeper looks almost the same, just a bit older. For somebody as querulous as him, he sounds almost cheerful when he sees and welcomes me into his store. I reply to his questions and curiosity pleasantly, but I notice he doesn't ask me anything about the war. I know this is something people tend to avoid talking about. The store ain't empty, so I imagine Tompkins won't willingly lead the conversation to some grounds that can compromise his opinion in front of his customers. He never had any qualms to speak his mind and state his prejudicial ideas before, but this is different. The past war is something nobody feels at ease about, and I'm actually grateful Tompkins doesn't attempt to drag me into a conversation that I don't want to have in the first place.

"And what brings you to my humble store today, of course, other than to greet an old friend?" he asks me.

I silently doubt I can count Tompkins among my friends, but I have no intention to deny his words. "Now that I'm back in Rock Creek, I plan to live in the old bunkhouse. So I need to order a few things from you to make it as homey and cozy as I can. I'd like a nice iron-wrought bed among other things."

"I'll show you the catalogue then."

Tompkins places a thick book on the counter and as I leaf through it, studying the different furniture, he says, "And may I ask if you'll be enjoying your new digs alone, or maybe there's a little wife in the hiding?"

I raise my eyes to his grinning face, and suddenly, a surge of irritation courses all though me. "No, just me." I turn my attention back to the catalogue, but the ink pictures and texts dance incomprehensively before my eyes; I can't concentrate. I'm once again flooded by memories, and this time I'm remembering the last time Lou and I were in the store, and Tompkins kicked us out. Even though that malicious rumor that Esther concocted was later sorted out, Tompkins never apologized to me or Lou for his appalling behavior towards us. There was never a word of apology. Never. I don't care about myself, but Lou deserved to be treated better than that, like the lady she was… she is.

I don't understand why all my thoughts lately tend to lead to her more than usual. I imagine that being here is enough reason to make me relive my memories of her. Yet, I have the hunch that it's more than that. I feel as if her voice is crying for me, begging me not to let her die and be forgotten. Maybe this really means something, and it's not just a product of my imagination or my burning desire, and I really need to stop and listen to her calling voice.

"Kid?"

I look up, and Tompkins' face clearly shows that he's been trying to draw my attention while I was absorbed in my own inner world.

"Did you see anything you like?" he asks me.

I shake my head. "I think I ain't in the right mood today for this. I'd better come back some other time."

Tompkins nods. "As you like."

I mutter my thanks, and after bidding him goodbye, I walk out. I don't know why this has upset me so much. All his talk about a wife and his silence about Lou really grated my nerves. Shouldn't he have said a few words about her? Everybody, including him, knows that she was abducted when I was supposed to marry her, and nobody has seen her since. That means something! Why can't people understand she was the love of my life and was snatched from me? How can they expect me to obliterate her so easily? She hasn't gone for me! Can't people understand that? Don't they see how much it still hurts? Don't they realize I'm still waiting for her? Is everybody blind, stupid, or what?


After Buck returns from work, we instantly start on the bunkhouse. First, we dismantle the bunks. It ain't a pleasant job. So many memories are contained in every board, in every mattress, and now we're closing that part in our lives forever. Naturally, that stage ended log ago, I know, but getting rid of the bunks is like a more physical and real proof of what we left behind… as if we were at a funeral, burying the remains of the entity we all formed once.

The table goes next. We tighten the screws, and even give it a lick of varnish, and now the wood of both the table and benches glow and almost look like new. Buck's agreed to keep them, so we'll leave them to dry overnight, and tomorrow we'll carry everything to his house.

We now stand in the middle of the large room where we spent a beautiful part of our youths. Without the bunks it looks naked of its soul, and I imagine that when the table goes, it'll feel like a gloomy desert.

"Pa! Pa! Pa!" Ike, Buck's five-year-old, storms in with all the energy that only children have. "Pa! What can I do? What can I do?" It's not the first time the boy has come up to us with the same question, and every time Buck has sent him in some errand to keep him out from under our feet.

Buck places a hand on his son's shoulder. "Ike, I'm afraid Uncle Kid and I are to start working on the roof now, and there's no way you can be with us, big man. Why don't you go and play for a bit?"

Those words don't sit well with the boy, who pouts unhappily. "But I want to help!"

"I know you do, but there's nothing else here for you to do," Buck repeats. The boy's pout becomes bigger, and I can see his eyes shining, almost on the verge of letting the tears spill.

Buck looks at me and sighs. I turn my attention to the boy as I'm struck by a sudden idea that might save us. "Ike, would you do me a favor?" The boy nods, looking at me with big eyes, and I add, "I've left some carrots in a sack outside by the stables door. I planned to give Katy and Lighting a treat later, but I think I'm gonna be too busy to do that myself. Maybe you'd like to do that for me now."

"Oh yes!" the boy exclaims, clapping his small hands and jumping up and down in excitement. "Oh yes, yes, I can!"

I fish a coin out of my pants pocket and hand it to the boy. "And this is for you, but don't spend it all on candy, uh?"

"Thank you, Uncle Kid!" Ike shrieks as he rushes to the door before his father or I can change our minds.

"And don't open the stall doors!" Buck calls after him, but he's already gone and out of earshot, so I don't think he's heard a word.

Buck shakes his head as he sighs. "Last time I let him be in the stables on his own, I spent the rest of the day chasing after the horses. He'd left all the stall doors open. Your Katy reached as far as the creek."

I chuckle, amused by the story. "He's a good boy."

"Yes, he is, but he's lots of work too."

I nod. "I can imagine."

"And it'll be twice as bad when the new baby comes."

"You have a lovely family, Buck. You should feel very proud."

Buck stares at me in silence for a few seconds before he says, "You know, it can happen to you too one day."

His words make me uncomfortable, and I have to look away. "I dunno… I guess."

"Haven't there been any women in all these years, Kid?"

I meet his eyes this time. This is something I know I can't avoid talking about, and I suspected that at some point somebody would ask me about my love life, or rather lack of. I'm glad it's Buck. He's discreet and would never judge me as I know some others would. "There are always women around… some more conspicuous, or trying to be more conspicuous than others, but I… I can't even take a peek. I'm a man, made of flesh and blood, and very weak, but… but… just one lingering look tugged at my guilty conscience. I just couldn't… couldn't betray…"

My voice falters, and I see Buck frowning at me in confusion. "Betray? Betray who, Kid?" He pauses, and when the answer dawns on him, he adds, "You mean Lou?"

I nod reluctantly as I notice in his tone disapproval. "Who else? She's special… the one. She's always been."

"Kid, it's been too many years since you last saw her. We haven't heard a single thing at all. Don't you think there's only one explanation to her silence?"

I shake my head. "She might still be alive. I don't know why she hasn't contacted us, but there must be an explanation… there has to be."

"Kid, I know I'd feel the same if I were you, and I'd clutch at the tiniest hope, but that in the long run only causes pain, and maybe it's time you let go." I keep shaking my head and try to talk, but Buck continues stubbornly, "Working for Teaspoon all these years has allowed me to see and learn more than I'd have cared for. There have been many strange cases too, even people going missing like Lou, and when that happens… when somebody disappears in strange circumstances and ain't found in the following days, in most cases, the person turns out to be dead."

"But not in all cases."

"You know it's highly improbable that Lou's alive. Didn't you leave and join the war because you couldn't stand the idea of finding out for real one day?"

I shake my head once again. "Leaving is my greatest regret. I shouldn't have stopped looking, and maybe if I'd stayed and kept on searching, she'd be with me today."

Buck sighs. "That's a fantasy, Kid, and you know it. If you keep living on that fantasy, you'll never be able to move on."

"Maybe I don't want to move on. To be honest, right now I only move because I have a body, but don't ask me anything else."

"Kid, my friend, don't close your eyes to life. It has so much to offer you if you let yourself open your arms to it."

Life also took what I loved most, and I just don't want to find a poor substitute. I need to believe that Lou's alive, but I can't expect others to understand me. This conversation doesn't make sense any more, and I'm just too tired to carry on. Nothing Buck says can convince me, and I can't tell him anything that can make him budge. "Let's check the roof. We can still make a good start before the night falls upon us."

With my words I conclude and lock the conversation, and I'm sure Buck won't force me to talk about it again. At least, not tonight. He knows when to step aside and drop the matter. He's a good friend, and I know he wants me happy, which I really am grateful for. Yet, what nobody can understand is that only one thing will make me happy, and right now even I know it's impossible.