Chapter 2: Back From Abilene
The sun rose over the hills on the outskirts of Favor's ranch. Its glowing warmth tried its damndest to mask the gloom of the night before, but it was all in vain.
Rowdy was the first of the trio to open his eyes, awoken by a white-hot stabbing pain that attacked his side when he tried to shift his body. Sitting up proved to be too painful. His ribs were wrapped tightly while the gashes interspersed on his body felt as though they would rupture with too much movement.
He lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Each breath was excruciating and the act of shouting or calling out to someone would prove to be an agonizing feat.
He moved his head around a bit, surprisingly one of the only things that didn't hurt. At first, he wasn't sure where he was and that terrified him, but soon enough he made out the silhouette of Wishbone snoozing in a nearby rustic wooden chair.
Based on the glow of the sun and the peacefulness of soft breezes coming from the open window, he was either at Favor's ranch or in the afterlife. He did it, he really did it, Rowdy thought referencing what he considered would be Wishbone's reluctancy to deliver a dying man to their former bosses' new home.
He wanted nothing more than to make his way to the window and bask in the warmth and light, something he had not experienced since before the- incident. The deep blue sky was more than enticing and the wind seemed to call out to him with each gust.
Rowdy couldn't stand to be fenced in any longer. He made a second attempt to stand, but a bolt of pain shot through his entire body, and his legs went weak. Shit, he thought as he felt himself going down, seconds away from unwillingly finding out what Favor's carpet tasted like.
Wishbone snorted and woke himself up. The old man blinked hard a few times to adjust his eyes to the brilliance of the morning light.
"Don't you go tryin' anything, boy!" he groggily shouted, almost sounding drunk. "You'll stay right where ya are as far as I'm concerned."
He shuffled over to the young man and guided him back to the sofa. Rowdy flinched out of reflex and tried to move away from him. Rowdy was still apprehensive about people getting too close to him, Wishbone frowned.
About ten minutes later, Gil joined the party in his living room. He paused before speaking, hesitant to speak his unadulterated mind out of fear he might upset someone.
"How's he doin'?" Favor asked, even though one glance at Rowdy could have adequately answered that question.
"Well, he still can't move much, that's for sure," Wishbone said, "he almost fell ass over teakettle tryin' to stand up."
Favor shook his head. "He hasn't said much either; he just keeps staring off. He's been looking at that window like the whole world's out on that range." Wishbone concluded. "I see."
Wishbone couldn't hold in his plight any longer. "As much as I know you could use me around here, I really gotta be goin', Mr. Favor," he said. No matter how many times Gil had told him it was alright to refer to him by his first name, Wishbone preferred to use his more formal moniker. It seemed more natural anyway.
Favor knew this moment was coming for a long time, but he didn't want to face it when the time came. "You're leavin' me for real this time, huh, Wishbone?" Favor asked glumly, a doleful grin on his face.
Wishbone had threatened to leave the drive several times, habitually at its height. Sometimes, his ultimatums were a result of him wanting to live out his older years away from steers and men who couldn't care less about his cooking. Other times were a bit more frivolous and a result of paranoia, such as the instances where wandering gypsies sauntered into the camp to tell him his death was looming unless he left the drive behind.
This time, however, he was more than serious and deserved the right to make his final decision.
"That's right Mr. Favor," he nodded. "But just one more thing: you may never have been the camp doc, but you better do more than promise me that you're gonna take care of the boy. We've gotta get him back, we've just gotta."
Favor wanted Wishbone to stay, and it was more than evident on his face. "I've been on these trails for far too long and it's due time I'd settle down before I'm six feet down," he spoke confidently and stood as straight as he could, though he was still almost a head shorter than Gil.
"I've been on trail drives since before you were born. I think I owe it to myself to live out my twilight years as I see fit."
Gil agreed, Wishbone had done so much for him and the men; for him to disagree or pry for him to remain on the ranch would be more than unjust.
Favor decided to temporarily change the subject to the whereabouts of his family, "Eleanor and the girls should be back anytime now. Do you think you could just wait to live out your twilight years a little longer?" A smile crept onto Wishbone's otherwise stoic face.
"They sure would be disappointed if they missed a chance to see their old friend again," Gil said in a convincing tone- like he needed to be any more convincing.
"Sure thing, Mr. Favor. After all, I've got my whole life!"
Gil stood by the window with his hands stuck in the back pockets of his jeans. He watched as a buckboard grew near and slowed in order to stop right beside the front porch.
"Whoa," said Eleanor as she snapped the reins and slowed the robust stallion to a complete stop. Maggie, Gil's youngest, jumped off the wagon and ran up to the house. Gil smiled brightly and went out to join them.
Wishbone grinned as well, but his joy was snuffed out instantly when he glanced back at Rowdy, who still depressively stared at the ceiling while flat on his back. Occasionally, he would groan and grasp his side. For him, every breath remained a struggle.
"Daddy!" Maggie shouted, jumping into her father's arms. Gillian followed shortly behind, just as excited, but trying to control her emotions to prove that she was the mature older sister who was quickly becoming a young lady.
"Girls! I'm so glad to see you again! How was your trip?" Gil eagerly asked, delighted to be reunited with his family; surely their presence would help him ease his hard-pressed mind.
"It was wonderful!" Maggie shouted, "Aunt Eleanor took us to see so many cool things!" Favor felt a bit guilty about not taking the girls there himself, but in a few moments, less than memorable times flooded his brain and he quickly forgave himself.
"So glad to hear that!" Favor said, trying to match the girls' excitement level, but it was near impossible. Eleanor, who had been leaning against the buckboard, grinned in their general direction. It was evident she had something else on her mind; Gil had an idea of what was causing her mind to race.
He knew that the time was coming for Eleanor to find herself a new husband. All women at her age and in her position had the right to. She had been on her own for long enough, he reasoned.
He had the right to remarry as well, but to Gil, that would be too much like replacing his wife. He had met many women over the years and would be the first to admit he fancied quite a few of them. However, at this point in his life, he felt no use in remarrying. His daughters were all he needed to have happiness in his life; with them around, he never truly felt unfulfilled.
"I think now would be a good time to tell you all that we have some- special guests with us as well…" Favor began, then paused. He was mainly referencing Wishbone, as he still wasn't sure what he was going to tell them about Rowdy.
"Special guests? Oh boy!" Maggie shouted like a kid on Christmas. She was the first to run into the house, almost knocking Gillian over as she sped by.
The others followed shortly behind. Maggie shouted, "Mr. Wishbone!" when she saw her old friend. She ran up to him and gave him a friendly bear hug. "So good to see you again, Maggie!" he said, "you too, Gillian! It seems like just yesterday we saw each other on the trail and I was able to get you all out of that adoption," he chuckled. The girls smiled at each other, "Yeah, thanks again, Mr. Wishbone!"
All was well for the first time since before last night, but Gil knew the time to tell them about Rowdy was fast approaching. He vowed he wouldn't inform the girls of what happened to his former drover in any amount of detail. Though they were growing up fast, they were still children and could easily be scarred by such a graphic and traumatic story.
The girls glanced at the stranger on the sofa. His eyes were closed and his chest lightly rose and fell with each breath. A significantly more perplexed look appeared on their faces. "I know Mr. Wishbone, but who's that man over there?" Gillian inquired, looking at her father for the answer.
Gil sighed, pursed his lips, then grinned. There was no use in trying to hide anything anymore, "that man is Rowdy, Rowdy Yates."
Both girls were overjoyed at this point and huge, genuine smiles of excitement and curiosity overtook their faces. "You mean your ramrod you talked so much about?"
They both walked over to get a closer look at the former drover but were taken aback when they caught a glimpse of his battered face and sullen expression. Rowdy flinched when the girls took a few more steps toward him. Realistically, he knew there was just about nothing they could do to harm him, but he refused to take chances anymore. Gil noticed the change in their emotions and disarmed the situation.
"Mr. Rowdy had a tough time gettin' here. He just needs some space right now," he calmly explained, placing his hands on his daughter's shoulders and steering them away from the sofa. Their gaze remained locked on the stranger.
"Why don't you girls go on up to your room and unpack? We'll talk more about your trip later tonight."
They both obeyed their father and scampered up the stairs with their luggage. There was nothing Gil could do to impede their chatter.
"Gosh, Rowdy Yates," said Maggie, "Daddy's talked so much about him; I never thought we'd get to meet him in person!"
"Yeah," Gillian muttered dryly, "and we still haven't." Maggie looked like she wanted to argue with her sister's reasoning, but there was nothing valid enough to add to the matter.
"I wonder what happened to him. He's not at all how Daddy ever described him in his letters," she added, "they're hiding something from us." the younger girl nodded in agreement. "I guess you're right, but Daddy did say he had a tough time getting here, don't you think that has something to do with it?" she suggested.
"Of course it does," Gillian sighed, "but what does that even mean? We're not little kids anymore, he should be able to explain it to us," she said. Eventually, the girls made it to the top of the landing and turned into their shared room, each of them throwing their luggage on their corresponding bed.
"I'm not sure," Maggie admitted to her sister, making sure she was out of earshot before cheekily muttering, "but I plan to find out."