7

It was cold and wet and dark, and the way had never seemed this long before. Of course, he'd never walked it in the cold wet dark before. Nor had he ever been alone, or actually walked the whole way by himself before. He'd always been carried at least part of the way. That was probably the cause of the miscalculation. (He hoped he'd remember that word when he needed it. It was a good word.)

Nine year old Jeremy Bolt just kept putting one foot in front of the other, cautiously. There were mud slicks and exposed roots on the path that was no longer used regularly. He had always thought the rest of the family came here a lot, but maybe it wasn't so much as he'd thought.

He stopped as he heard branches snap in the trees. He thought it was probably a smaller animal, not a bear or mountain lion or anything like that. They'd be hungry if they just woke up, and the weather had been warm enough all day to wake them up. He wasn't exactly invisible in his yellow rain slicker.

He stood without moving until the whatever-it-was moved off in another direction, then he started forward again.

He wished it hadn't been quite so warm earlier, when he'd taken his coat off after school, and tossed it on his bed with his books. Or at least remembered it when he was going back out, but it was still warm then, even if it was already getting dark. Instead, he'd just grabbed the rain gear, a box of matches,a pocketful of dried berries and a couple canteens of water, which was funny, as wet as it was. But you couldn't stand with your mouth open and wait for rain to fall in it when you got thirsty.

Step, step, step, step. Stop and listen. Step, step, step. Stop and look around for landmarks. Which may have changed because it had been so long. Don't go until you're sure. Walk and wait. Look and listen. Over and over again.

Would he never get there?

He finally got there. Good. He'd been right that he could do it. There was satisfaction in that.

It sure did look different though, he thought, studying the small cabin. For one thing, it looked so little!

Well, of course it did. He was bigger now, so things from when he was a baby would look smaller. Yeah, that made sense, he thought with relief.

It was dark, too. He didn't think he'd ever seen it all dark. It seemed like there was always a lamp lit, or the fire, or maybe just reflections on the windows. Yeah, that was it. The windows were shuttered tight, so the glass didn't show for nothing to reflect off of. (That was a terrible sentence. If he wrote that down in school it'd probably have red marks all over it.)

He wondered briefly why he was thinking silly thoughts like that. Maybe because he was scared? Just a little bit? A teeny, tiny little bit? Why should he be scared?

He shouldn't be, he decided, and stepped up on the porch. He shouldn't be, but he was. Now what was so scary about a dark deserted empty house nobody had been in for months, probably?

At least not since Da had died. They'd had no time for dealing with anything else, even if he didn't exactly understand all of it.

So, what was scary? The dark was scary, going in a dark place could be scary, when no outside light was getting in. There could be a hole in the floor right inside the door or something. Maybe someone built some kind of trap while they were using the place for a hideout. There were, sometimes, bad guys hiding out in the forests.(Maybe. Sometimes it was hard to tell when the stories were stories or when they were real.) There could be animals in there, Birds like owls, or bats. They could get down the chimney. So could squirrels or raccoons (maybe.) Probably no bigger animals could get in through the chimney and he could see plainly that the door and the two (tiny) windows were closed and intact.

So there was no reason to be scared.

He stepped up on the porch and put his hand on the door.

Of course, there could be ghosts. Mama had died in that house, after all. And now Da was dead, so maybe he came back here to find her? One of his brothers told him ghost stories a lot, just to scare him into doing what he wanted him to do, and the other brother said there were no ghosts, or reasons for them to be doing any haunting, and even if there were, they wouldn't be looking to hurt him.

Even if there were?

That wasn't exactly reassuring.

The boy took off his raincoat and hung it on the hooks outside the door, pleased that he could reach them. Well, almost. He could make his raincoat reach them, anyway.

He opened the door. Slowly.

Yeah, it was really dark in there. Black dark. Cave dark.

And even though he could see with his eyes the place was small, the darkness inside it was awful, awful big.

There were no sounds, except occasional spatters of rain.

It smelled funny. Dusty, he thought. Not mold or wet – he knew those smells. But the air felt kind of like sandy. And knew air could get stale?

He waited for his eyes to adjust, but the darker darkness from inside seemed to go outside, instead of the lighter darkness coming inside.

And it was COLD! Cold like there'd never been heat in there, to go with the dark that was like there had never been light in there.

He shivered.

He remembered the place that had always been warm and bright and full of peoples.

There was a lamp on the table, or there should be. They had left everything behind when they moved out, except the clothes on their backs. On the other side of the room there was a fireplace, and there was a candle on the mantle. (He was doubtful about reaching that, especially in the dark.)

Something was breathing!

And it was breathing hard! And kinda-sorta loud.

Another of those spatters of rain, and the wind swooshed out of the fireplace, making the breathing go all around the room and head straight at him, while the wind pushed him back out the door.

He let it.

Jason Bolt stopped his horse and allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he caught the glimmer of a campfire. He'd save the real relief after he confirmed the fire was connected to his missing young brother. Hopefully not on a spit over said fire. He'd take on that job himself if it needed done.

But why would the boy make a fire outside of the cabin that he'd been desperate enough to sneak away to get to? Why not go inside and put a fire in the fireplace?

Was it not what the child had expected?

Had someone else been in it? It had been left unlocked so that anyone needing shelter could use it, and this night was turning out to be one of the worst for the late winter masquerading as early spring. But wouldn't a chance wayfarer share the space with another such, especially a child?

Well, he'd best be finding out, hadn't he? He started moving forward, slowly.

The boy looked in the direction of the horse sounds, until he could see the shape of the rider. He then turned his body away and stared into the fire.

He wondered how much trouble he was in.

Then, with a sigh, he wondered if he'd made trouble for his brother.

Jason studied the scene. Jeremy'd made a decent fire, and had chosen his place well. Building the fire that close to the boulder had been smart. It could absorb and hold the heat for a little extra warmth. The boy had to be half-frozen.

He noted the rain gear, worn loosely on the shoulders, and thought he could kick himself that he hadn't even thought about that. Well, the kid might not have kept warm, but he'd tried to stay dry, and done pretty well from the look of things. That could also explain why he'd forgotten his coat. A child's mistake.

After a glance around, Jason took the horse around back. The only reason the old stable wasn't leaking like a sieve was because of the ivy and creepers that had overgrown the roof.

Jason unpacked the few things he'd brought along, and headed back to the fire. He took the rain gear off the boy, and dropped the boy's coat on the boy's shoulders without saying a word. He seated himself on a nearby rock and watched as Jeremy hurried to put the coat on, then struggled to fasten it.

He pulled the boy closer, handed him the heavier warm canteen, and finished the buttoning, then wrapped half his coat around the child, holding him close.

The boy mumbled something.

"There's coffee in that," Jason said. "Should still be hot. Drink it."

But the hands were too cold to open it, and the child shivering too hard. He must not have had the fire going for very long to be so cold.

"Am I in t-t-troub-b-ble?"

"I don't know yet. Put your hands in your pockets."

"Are y-you in t-trouble?"

"I don't think so."

The boy shivered and pulled the man's coat closer around them both, and buried his face in his brother's shoulder. "S-sorry."

"We'll talk about it after you thaw out. Don't you want to go inside?" Jason nodded at the old cabin.

"It's d-d-dark and smells f-funny and s-s-ounds f-funny. And it pushed me out."

"So you came back outside and built your fire?"

The boy nodded.

They waited together, sharing the coffee until the shivering stopped and the boy was nearly asleep on his feet.

"Talk to me, Jeremy."

The boy shook his head. "C-can't."

"You can. It just takes a little longer. We've got the rest of the night." The man glanced skyward, where stars were beginning to show. It was going to get pretty cold pretty soon.

"I -I d-don't g-got 'n-nough w-words."

"We'll start with the ones you do have. Why did you come up here? Especially without asking?"

"W-wanted to. D-Da w-wouldn't l-let m-me. T-t-tol' m-me g-get th-that outa m-my h-head, b-bec-cause it w-wasn't h-h-happening. Th-that it w-would b-be t-too h-hard."

"I see. You know, don't you, that I didn't always agree with Da's decisions about you?"

The boy nodded.

"But?"

"S-sometimes y-you d-did anyw-way."

"Ah. I see." And he did see. Sometimes he'd take the boy – or both boys – out with him when Da had said they weren't to do some thing or go some where. His reasoning was that they were with him, not on their own, if the subject had ever come up. But Da had never called him on it.

Some of his reasoning had been to minimize the 'forbidden fruit' aspects of their prospective adventurings. Some had been to let them have independence and learn self-sufficiency. Part had been because they had been too used to the freedom of the mountain to be content with town living. Especially Jeremy, who had always been painfully shy, even before his problem with speaking.

And, Jason admitted to himself, sometimes it had been to thwart his father's wishes as his father was thwarting his.

That was all water under the bridge now.

"Did you think I thought the same because I never brought you up here anyway?"

Jeremy shrugged, then, hesitantly, nodded.

"Why haven't you asked me, since?"

"Wh-when you said w-we had to h-have th-the s-same r-rules f-for a l-little wh-while."

"The family meeting?"

"Uh-huh."

"I see," Jason said again.

After their father's life had been celebrated and finalized, Jason had sat both boys down and tried to explain the problems. One was that with Da gone, there'd be no more 'family' money from overseas – the trust they'd been living off of had stopped paying with the death. They would have no income.

The bigger problem had been the boys themselves. Seemed an awful lot of people had already decided to divide the boys off and ship them off to various places. The popular opinion had been that Jason was too young AND too irresponsible to take charge of his brothers. So, somebody was going to have to do something about those boys. Joshua was old enough and fine enough to do a day's work, or to continue schooling – any of the families would happily take him in in exchange for his 'talents' and presumed gratitude. He wasn't the problem, not really;

It was the other boy, the little one, who couldn't speak well enough to be understood, who would stand and stare in horror when anyone spoke to him, and maybe even cry and run away – he was a problem. How would someone like Jason ever be able to cope with that?

Someone like Jason.

How he had fumed! His father had been responsible for Jason being 'someone like that.' He'd only been allowed to work for others periodically, and then only with/for certain bosses. He hadn't been allowed to try to start any business, he hadn't been allowed to do away and try somewhere else. He'd had to stay close to play mother to his brothers, because their father cycled between nearly neglecting them (lost in his own grief and loneliness) or paying too much detailed attention to their daily routines, even if there were long normal periods between.

Jason was the most consistency in those boys' lives since their mother had died. Even now, Jeremy still would come stand behind him and grab onto his coat or shirt and just hold on.

He couldn't remember what all he'd said when the men asked him about his brothers and then gave him their solutions. He had just exploded, and had told them all off but good. God only knew what he'd actually said. He sure didn't, but how dare they? Just how dare they try to give HIS brothers away, in Josh's case to benefit themselves. And send Jeremy away to some institution because they couldn't take the time to be decent to the boy! To wait or to listen.

No! No, and No again!

And still No.

Fortunately, Da had spelled all that out in his will, although the townfolk still talked. He would almost certainly have had more trouble there if he hadn't.

And he'd been put on notice that the town would act if the boys got into or made any trouble.

Jason's first thought had been to just take them up the mountain. He was pretty sure they'd be left alone there, and maybe they could do enough trapping to keep themselves in coffee and clothing. They could hunt and garden for food.

But Josh liked school, and education had been one of Da's reasons for moving them into town.

Not to mention that one of Jason's 'flaws' was that he was an extremely social person. He'd probably become difficult to live with with just two children for company. Constant company at that.

Instead, he had spent a few days thinking things over, considering different options, and then, he had called the boys to the table and started explaining the situation to them. Together they had worked up a plan, which had indeed included making changes slowly and carefully.

"Well," he said now, "I never meant we wouldn't still have outings. It's just –" he waved a hand, "It's winter. A bad time. If I had known you wanted to come, I'd have had it cleaned up a bit, opened it up for fresh air and such."

"You w-would?"

"Yes, I would have. Why tonight?"

Jeremy shrugged.

"You may as well tell me. Joshua already informed me that I'm an idiot."

A swallowed giggle was the response to that. "H-he did?"

"He did. When I pulled Josh out of class today, I told you to go straight home, didn't I? And you promised you would."

"Uh-huh."

"You know this isn't what I meant."

"Wh-what you s-said."

"It is what I said. Josh let me know that I am even dumber than you that I hadn't ever noticed that you never ever call the cabin in town home, not even after the first couple of years.

And do you know what?"

The boy shook his head.

"I thought he might be right after he explained it to me."

That made Jeremy laugh.

"So now, young man, do you want to finish the night out here? I can open the windows and light the fire, and leave you here or stay with you, whichever you prefer. Or we can go on over to the camp, where Josh is waiting. It's up to you."

Jeremy shook his head. "G-go with you. An' Josh."

"We can come back after work, if that's what you want."

He shook his head again.

"Get your gear and put out your fire and we'll go."

Once they were on their way,

"J-Jason?"

"Hmm?"

"How c-come it's d-diff'rent? L-like it wasn't n-never home at all?"

"What do you think?"

"D-don't know. I'm t-tired."

"Not surprising. How was it different? What was the most noticeable difference?"

"Why don' you ever just tell me things?"

Now, that was an interesting question, Jason thought. Considering the way it was asked by the tired cranky child. Who was still waiting for an answer.

'I don't know what you do or don't understand if you can't tell me what you're thinking."

"M-maybe you're the one d-don't underst-tand."

"Well, I'll know by what you say if we're talking about the same thing. Why must you make everything so complicated?"

The boy sighed. "P-prob'ly the same r-reason you m-make ever'thin' t-t-talking."

"Could be," Jason agreed, amused by the show of temper.

He was putting the boy to bed on a camp cot in a tent when Jeremy spoke again.

"Th-this is b-betterer h-home th-than there. 'Cause we're all here."

"I think you just answered your own question, kid."