Holding over a hundred dollars in his hand made Cainan's hand shake ever so slightly. This was still so unreal to get used to. It wasn't his first time holding a big bundle like this. He safely slipped the cash into his inner coat pocket where it would be safe. "So, what's your secret, kid?"
Cainan perked his ears up and glanced at the immensely muscular, hulking form of the speakeasy owner before him. Looking down at him, he appeared intimidating as always, but Cainan just smiled up at him. His fluffy, white tail gave a single flick as he spoke. "Secret? What do you mean, Mr. G.? I'd never keep any secrets from you…"
The tall man smirked and gave a snort. "Hah, if you say so. Still, you've got some damned good luck… or you somehow know what you're doing. You go have fun with the cash, kid."
The younger cat smiled and lingered around, for a moment considering if he should say anything else, but… he thought better of it. The young cat averted his gaze when their eyes met again, ears lowered slightly.
"What's the matter? Something wrong?" the bigger cat asked as he started wiping down the race results on the blackboard that hung on the brick-wall. His tone was not particularly interested, but the fact that he asked at all made Cainan's heart skip a beat. The small speakeasy was empty for the time being, the radio beside Mr. Grombach turned off. Even the bartender was gone.
"Oh, nothing, Mr. G. Just… You have a good night, alright?" Cainan asked, slightly breathless. He still hovered around, knowing he was overstaying his welcome, but not having the sense to do anything about it besides sticking around.
"I think we're past you callin' me that by now, kid," the big cat grunted, shooting Cainan a look; almost amused, almost pleasant. "Just call me Gracie."
"Gracie… Hope to see you soon, Gracie."
Cainan opened his eyes as he awoke, staring up at the ceiling of his car. Waking up wasn't too difficult for Cainan these days. The car wasn't exactly comfortable to sleep in, so there was little to no chance of him drifting off again as soon as he was awake. He'd slept in his clothes as he had no other choice, though as he got out of the car to stretch his legs, he did make sure to throw a different shirt on. He left his dark gray sweater behind and swapped it for a light gray, albeit very wrinkly, button-up shirt and his favorite brown coat. It was a warm one, not exactly the most in fashion or the most flattering thing he owned, but given how cool the mornings still were, Cainan didn't see a reason not to wear something that would keep him warm rather than stylish.
Sitting on the back seat, Cainan ate bread, dried meat and cheese. It was the best he could do these days and luckily, it kept for quite some time. The bread was the biggest concern, but Cainan also knew he had to make it last as long as he could. Of course, he would need to buy more food in the near future. He had money, but it was a finite resource for the time being, so he made sure to stretch it as long as he could every time he bought food.
The sun had barely come up, the sky bright, but the rays of the celestial light had not yet reached the forested area where Cainan was staying, leaving it somewhat dark. He wasn't sure what today might bring, but he intended on going into town on his own after meeting with Father Arbogast. After finishing his rather unimpressive breakfast, Cainan packed it away and locked down his car, before he waded through the knee-high grass, which was wet from the morning dew. Dark streaks soon formed across the legs of his denim pants as he made it out to the open fields. Brushing his bangs out of his eyes, Cainan stepped onto the nearest dirt road and headed back towards where the church was.
Hands in his pockets, Cainan glanced out at the open, sweeping hills around the road, the crops and the grass all glistening in the early light as the sun finally started coming up over the eastern hills. It bathed the entire area in its golden glow, the dewy vegetation all around shimmering and Cainan's white fur was practically glowing. It was a cool morning as the spring breeze still had a sharpness to it that cut right through Cainan's facial fur, but the sun helped make him feel a bit more comfortable at least.
He cast a glance towards the east horizon, squinting against the bright sun. It was hard to appreciate, really, but he did remember what Defiance sunrises were like, having seen quite a few of them in the thirteen years he'd lived in the small township. Especially in springtime, it wasn't so unusual to have to get up before the sun rose. Cainan got his early education here in town, but not at a school – at least not officially. Rather, he and other children his age started out learning from a local man who taught them to read, write and do math.
It was all Cainan needed to know, really. He'd learned a great many things after running away, but he'd never completed any higher form of education. In his time alone, especially living in St. Louis, he'd gotten by on pure street smarts for the most part. Of course, it had been a life with a steep learning curve, but Cainan had made do with the hand he was dealt. And it wasn't like the jobs he'd taken up in the years leading up to this moment in time had really cared if he had a high school diploma or not.
Kicking a small rock off the road and into the crops he passed, Cainan had to wonder what he was going to say to Father Arbogast when he found him. Would it be a better approach to tell him exactly how bad things were? On the one hand, that would be the honest thing to do… and didn't he owe the old reverend that? But on the other… He didn't want to come out and say it all so suddenly; it might seem like he was trying to get Father Arbogast to pity him… Although was that really such a bad thing?
Cainan wasn't sure what approach was better. A part of him – possibly his pride, probably his ego – couldn't bear the thought of coming to someone on his knees like that in his time of need. He'd wanted to make a life for himself ever since he left Defiance all those years ago and he wasn't going to change that now.
Surely… As soon as he got some kind of work in town (if he did) Cainan would be able to repay the village minister for his help, whether that be monetary or not. That way, he'd feel debt-free. Cainan had never liked the feeling that he owed anyone anything. It had been a contributor to how and why he was in his current situation. Rolling in money one day, having it all taken away the next, Cainan had lived through that reality and it had been the hit that struck him and set him on his current trajectory.
St. Louis… that had been where it happened. He'd had all he wanted; his own home, money, a car and more. And he'd lost nearly all of it in a series of bad decisions. Last time Cainan had felt true comfort was five years ago when he was twenty-two. In fact, it had actually been remarkably close to luxury.
Perhaps people simply shouldn't be trusted with that much money at that age, Cainan thought to himself as he continued on his way along the dirt road. He walked the same road that he and Father Arbogast had walked together before they parted ways, on the outskirts of Defiance. As Cainan got closer, he got the same sense of familiarity he'd felt whilst walking around the small town the previous day, just looking around, getting reacquainted with the once familiar surroundings. Even now, wherever he looked, he saw things that reminded him of his old life when his whole world was only as wide as Defiance.
Leaving this place had simultaneously been the scariest as well as the most exciting thing to ever happen to him. Walking along the road, Cainan tried to recall what it had been like to walk this road in the opposite direction. He'd followed the road to the nearest train station, the very same one where he'd managed to sneak onto a train and ride it two stops away by himself. It admittedly hadn't been far, but he'd decided he'd rather get off early, rather than get in trouble later for riding the train for free.
Cainan didn't remember the name of the town where he first got off the train, but it had been a small town, not unlike Defiance. It had been comparatively bigger, however. It had been the beginning of a bit of town hopping for him. He had started in the area not too far from Defiance, but as he got bolder, Cainan started traveling further and further away, eventually ending up in St. Louis where he'd spent the most time.
Finally arriving near the church, Cainan stopped near a tree on the small hill overlooking the area. From here he could see the growing cornfields with their still glistening crops. The sun had come up enough to bathe the area in light, the leaves on the trees shining, the dull, dusty road appearing almost radiant, contrasting with the darker grass and crops it stretched between. An old sign and a short fence lined the right side of the road. From here, Cainan could see the church from a distance, just as he had when he'd arrived the day before.
Just a few farm houses were near the church and a bit further away, Cainan could see a large barn near more cornfields. Two small groves were situated near the church, one right across the dusty path, another closer to the barn in the distance.
Cainan sat down by the big tree on the side of the road, resting his back against the trunk as he sat on the still wet grass. He hadn't even checked the time yet. Fishing out an old pocket watch, Cainan saw that it wasn't even seven yet. The clock's metallic body was dented and scratched and the glass on the front had a single crack going across it from the upper right to the bottom left.
Cainan had never been an early riser, but he supposed that was one of the changes that his less than ideal sleeping arrangements had ushered in.
"God, what am I even doing here…?" Cainan asked himself. His eyes settling on the church, Cainan almost snorted at the unintentional irony of his exclamation.
"I don't know, but I would've picked a more dry place to sit down." Cainan glanced up when he was addressed to see an older man approaching from his left. The older tuxedo cat had a bit of a limping walk, Cainan noticed, and he was dressed in a thick, brown sweater and blue denim overalls, his getup not so unlike Cainan's own, especially the one he'd worn the previous day. His facial fur was speckled with silver streaks and Cainan also noticed his breathing appeared rather labored. He wondered why he would be out walking like this, if it was such a struggle, but Cainan supposed he was trying to keep active despite his age.
"Oh, good morning, sir," Cainan said with a small smile, although he was cautious. He could recognize the older cat based on looks, but he couldn't place him, couldn't attach a name to his face.
"Mornin'. You're up and at 'em early, young man," he said rather gruffly. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Oh, sort'a – I'm supposed to meet someone down by the church later," Cainan told him, tone casual, but still polite. The tuxedo cat didn't seem outright cold towards him, unlike Mr. Lang at the post office, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was a fact Cainan was thankful for, of course – he wasn't going to complain about a lack of hostility.
"Is that right?" The older cat didn't seem to approve of the idea, but nevertheless he just shrugged and continued on his way without another word. Cainan sat by and watched him as he left, his gait slow and staggered. As Cainan sat by the tree, another cool spring breeze swept over him, making him shudder slightly. He watched the old tuxedo cat turning left to make his way down the hill towards the church.
"Say… You headed for the church too?" Cainan asked, getting to his feet, brushing himself off. His blue denim pants had dark spots from the morning dew on the plants where he'd been seated, but he didn't care. Leaving the tree, Cainan approached the older cat, who looked back at him with a pair of bright yellow-green eyes that contrasted so with his otherwise monochromatic fur.
"That I am," the older cat grunted, before continuing on his way. Cainan caught up to him rather easily and walked by his side. "You're welcome to walk with me, by the way."
"Oh, thank you…" Cainan was no fool, he could pick up sarcasm when he heard it, but nevertheless he walked with the older cat. "I'm Cainan, by the way."
"Cainan?" The older cat stopped and stared at Cainan with a look of comprehension on his face and Cainan, who also stopped, wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He felt himself tensing, bracing for whatever was to come. "Why didn't you say so? I hardly even recognized you, boy."
Cainan was dumbfounded as he stood there, unsure of what to say. Clearly the older cat recognized him, but his tone wasn't a displeased one, far from it. He sounded almost… amused. "Uh… pardon?"
"There's only ever been one Cainan in Defiance, boy. And you look just like your parents." Cainan's jaw tightened at this, but he simply nodded in silence as he followed along, right ear giving a slight flick. As much as he hated it, he knew it to be true. "What brings you back? I never thought you'd be brave enough to show your face here again."
"It's complicated… I suppose I was feeling nostalgic." Cainan was cautious, but it felt nice to talk to a local who didn't seem hostile towards him. "I really just wanted to take a look around, sir-"
"Just call me Wendell," the older cat told him. Of course – Tomas Wendell! Cainan remembered that name; he remembered this man. Though he didn't recall ever actually speaking to him, he distinctly remembered seeing him around the church when he was being dragged along as a small child. He was the groundskeeper, as far as Cainan remembered, though as the two of them made it to the foot of the gently sloping hill, Cainan couldn't help but notice just how different he looked. He supposed time would take quite a toll on someone who worked such a physically demanding job for that long. As the two walked the road between the cornfields, the church approaching on their left, the older cat spoke again. "Well, I'd dare say you ain't too popular around here, boy."
"Yeah, I noticed…" Cainan's jaw tightened again, looking straight ahead at the white building. "It's uhm… It ain't going to be a problem if I stick around, is it?"
"Stick around?" Wendell almost sneered at him. "And where would you stay? Are you looking to buy a house?"
Cainan didn't respond. He supposed that was something he admittedly hadn't really thought about. Even if he somehow managed to get a job around these parts, he would still have to work for a long time to even afford his own place to live, at least he imagined so.
"A good question… I'm still working on that part," was all Cainan said in a falsely optimistic tone that almost fooled himself – almost. In truth, Cainan hadn't a clue how, when or if he'd figure it out. "So, how have things been around here? You still looking after the church and all?"
"That I am." Cainan could tell by Wendell's short response that he didn't seem to be in a very talkative mood. Although given his rather labored breathing, Cainan couldn't blame him. Perhaps he shouldn't try and initiate conversation with the tuxedo cat just yet… "But not for much longer, I suspect."
Hearing this, Cainan stared in surprise at the older cat, who just snorted at him. It wasn't every day Cainan heard people just talking about their eventual passing in such a casual way, but he supposed it was different for someone of Wendell's age, compared to someone around his own… The two continued in silence and made it to the front of the church at which point Wendell turned away.
"Oh, you're not going-?" Cainan asked stupidly pointing at the church, which seemed to be completely closed off. The tuxedo cat shot him a look and shook his head.
"No, I need to take care of the lawn." Wendell gestured towards the grass around the church with his hand in an almost dismissive manner. He didn't seem too pleased and the grass certainly looked like it had seen better days. Watching the older cat leaving, limping away towards a nearby barn past the small groves, Cainan couldn't help but feel a little bad; the idea that a cat his age had to deal with maintaining the lawn all by his lonesome…
Cainan glanced towards the church as he averted his gaze from Wendell and tried the door, but found it locked. Sitting down on the steps up to the church and resting his arms on his knees, Cainan glanced at the area around him, from the growing corn crops on his right to the small groves nearby on his left. Cainan didn't know if those patches of grass around them was Wendell's responsibility as well or not, but he imagined they might be. As he sat there, Cainan stifled a yawn, watching Wendell in the distance as he moved up towards the barn.
Cainan sighed and shook his head before he rose to his feet. He trudged along the dirt road up towards the barn just as Wendell made his way inside. When Cainan reached the brown, wooden building, he peered inside past the big door. "Hey, Mr. Wendell? Do you… need any help or something?"
The older cat had picked up a scythe and when he noticed him, he turned towards Cainan. It was an oddly menacing sight as he stood in the relative dark of the barn. "Help?"
"I mean with the grass 'n all…" Cainan didn't know if he should say anything about it, but the very idea of an older man like Wendell doing this manual labor by himself didn't quite sit right with him. Wasn't he going to retire anytime soon? He was wearing down his own body and, especially at his age, that couldn't be good, right? "I can help you cut it or something, if you need it…"
For a moment, Wendell simply stood there, looking at Cainan without a word. Silently, he made his way towards the younger cat before handing him the scythe. The large tool was quite intimidating and Cainan was already starting to regret asking – he'd never actually used a scythe in his life.
"No idea what you're hopin' to get out of this, kid, but if you insist… And I ain't payin' you," the old cat grumbled.
"Oh that's fine, I wasn't asking for any pay, sir."
Wendell grabbed a shovel and a pitchfork, placing them both into an old wooden wheelbarrow. As Wendell began to wheel it out of the barn, Cainan hesitated for a bit, wanting to say something. Wendell snorted derisively when their eyes met. "What, you don't think I can handle pushing this thing over to the church?"
"No, no- I mean yes. I'm sure you can, Mr. Wendell," Cainan said, stumbling his way through his words. He just shrugged and followed along, one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding the scythe as he rested the long wooden shaft against his shoulder as he walked.
Once they'd made it back to the church, Cainan yawned, garnering the attention of Wendell who snorted. "No time to be sleepy, boy. You asked to help, so here's what you do: just get the grass nice 'n short… You hear?"
"Uh… Yeah, I've got it…" Cainan carefully took a hold of the scythe's shaft, weighing it in his hands. It didn't feel quite right the way he held it, but it seemed like the only way to actually hold it. It was decently heavy and one hand on the main body and the other on the handle, Cainan eventually raised it, preparing to slash downwards when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Cainan turned to Wendell, looking stunned when he saw the look of outrage on the tuxedo cat's face. "Don't you know how to use a scythe?"
"Do I look like I know what I'm doing?" Cainan asked the groundskeeper in a rather defensive manner. The older cat sighed and rubbed his temples. He had to show Cainan how to hold it; one hand on the main body, one on the handle jutting out from it further up closer to the blade. Even then, it didn't feel quite right. Following Wendell's instructions, however, Cainan soon got to work, mowing the grass with wide, sweeping swings, letting the top of the blade stop itself from cutting the grass too low.
It was hard work and as the sun rose higher in the sky, it only got harder. Cainan eventually had to remove his coat, carelessly tossing it onto the front step of the church, before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. While Cainan worked, Wendell watched him closely, scrutinizing his every move, occasionally grunting corrections at him whenever Cainan would start to relax and slouch. He'd just groan in response; he couldn't complain, nor could he back out now; he'd volunteered; what kind of idiot would he look like backing out and making the old groundskeeper do this?
Although Cainan supposed that technically this was his job to begin with…
"Well, this is certainly a surprise." Cainan stopped mid swing and turned his head to see Father Arbogast standing there on the path, watching him. Clad in all black once again, he stood out like a sore thumb against the green of the crops and grass all around. Cainan had managed to get most of the grass around the front of the church, having slowly worked his way closer and closer to the white building. As the older reverend looked him over, Cainan wiped his brow. "Good morning, Wendell, Mr. Wirth…"
"Please… just Cainan," Cainan huffed at Father Arbogast. While Cainan had been mowing down the grass, Wendell had used the pitchfork and shovel to move the cut grass up into the wheelbarrow, ready to cart it off. "Good morning, Father. I was wondering when you'd get here."
"Were you now…? That's very interesting…" Wendell noted curiously, looking between the two. The apricot-furred reverend didn't speak for a while, though Cainan noticed him exchanging meaningful looks with Wendell. Cainan hadn't the slightest clue what they could silently be communicating, but he thought he saw Father Arbogast subtly shaking his head at Wendell.
"Yeah, we were going to discuss my- uh…" Cainan hesitated. If looks could kill, the look Father Arbogast gave him at the moment may have managed to single-handedly win the Great War.
"Yes…?" Wendell asked, looking over at Father Arbogast in an almost eager manner, it was a tone Cainan hadn't heard from the older cat before. "What were you two looking to discuss exactly?"
Seeing the borderline murderous look on Father Arbogast's face and then seeing the violently contrasting look on Wendell's, Cainan had to resist the urge to smirk. In an exaggeratedly casual tone, the young cat replied, "Oh, we were just going to talk about work. I've been looking for some. Imagine that…"
Wendell let out a dry chortle. "A job, eh? Why, I'd dare say just you might have found one, boy. What do you say, Father?"
"Absolutely not…!" the reverend snapped, at which point Cainan couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. Intense blue-eyed glare fixed on Cainan, Father Arbogast looked quite outraged. However, while the sight might be intimidating at a glance, Cainan couldn't help but find it amusing as well. Why was he so against him taking up this job?
"Why don't you finish up here while Father Arbogast and I talk for a bit?" Wendell asked Cainan as he put the shovel and pitchfork down by the wheelbarrow, which was already filling up nicely. The tuxedo cat limped over to the taller, leaner cat and the two of them set off down the path towards the barn where Cainan and Wendell had come from.
"Under absolutely no circumstances am I allowing him of all people to fill in the position, Wendell. I will not hear it," Abelard insisted once he thought they'd be out of earshot. He cast a look back over his shoulder where he saw Cainan, still working. The young cat likewise cast a glance over his shoulder at them, making Abelard avert his own gaze. He looked at the black and white cat beside him, scowling.
"And why not? The kid's still young, and he was willing to help me out without expecting a reward, you know," Wendell replied ever so casually as he limped along beside the taller cat's long strides, keeping up the best he could. "Kid don't seem so bad to me."
"He's trouble, I can just tell. I don't trust him." Abelard didn't even notice his voice climbing an octave as he spoke. "He's hiding something and I'm starting to get my suspicions about what it is…"
Wendell gave a derisive snort, which got Abelard's attention, the tall reverend squinting at him. Wendell just shot him a look of indifference. "Setting your personal bias aside, and setting aside what people might say about him, look at him; he's up there cutting grass outside a church at the break of dawn."
"Your point being…?"
"My point being that if he's willing to do that without getting paid, I believe he just might be able to take good care of this place with an added incentive." Wendell stretched and came to a halt, sighing. "And besides, Abelard… look at me, for Pete's sake; I'm getting old and I'm tired. Give the kid a chance, damn it. I'll show him the ropes."
For the first time in a while, Abelard looked properly at Wendell. He was right; he'd been looking after the grounds longer than Abelard had been preaching. He was limping there right by his side, his breath raspy and labored. Abelard had watched him tending to the grounds for decades now, always had the reassuring presence there to keep things orderly and make sure things were as they should be.
But even Abelard, in all his stubbornness, could tell that Wendell wanted nothing more than to retire and to rest. This man had been working tirelessly for most of his life, Abelard knew that much.
He sighed.
"Do you truly believe he will be a suitable successor? Can you honestly tell me that an untrustworthy individual such as this boy deserves the privilege of looking after our church?" Abelard asked, casting another glance over his shoulder where he realized Cainan had stopped working and had fully turned towards them. How much had he heard?
"I've not seen any reason not to trust him yet. He asked me if I wanted help out of his own volition and that to me is very telling. Don't matter what people used to say about him – at least not to me," Wendell told Abelard, before he too cast a glance over at Cainan. He smirked a bit. "I bet he heard you using your preacher voice."
Abelard silently scowled at the older cat before closing his eyes, sighing. He removed his hat and rubbed his temples. "… Fine, I will give him a chance – one chance. But if he turns out to be as much of a troublemaker as I think, may the Lord have mercy on your soul, Wendell…!"
"Yeah, yeah… I'll be with him soon enough," the tuxedo cat snorted, not sounding particularly roused by Abelard's threat. "I'll have to teach him first. After that, I'll enjoy my retirement. I'm sure the kid'll do just fine. And besides, weren't his folks avid believers? Shouldn't that count for something, if you're going to judge him as harshly as you are?"
"I am not being harsh!" Abelard snarled, scowling once more, though the tuxedo cat snorted loudly at this. "Well, you give it time and you'll see. Mark my words, this boy is trouble and I'll let him prove it to you."
The two of them made their way back towards the church, Abelard still quite displeased. This day wasn't turning out the way he'd hoped for so far. He had hoped for another quiet day, but it seemed like that wasn't what the Lord had in store for him. But Abelard would trust that this was a test of his character. Yes – that had to be it. He would give young Cainan Wirth a chance to prove himself. Perhaps this was a chance for both of them to prove themselves…
By the time they reached the lawn in front of the church, Cainan had resumed his work, having taken care of all the grass in the front and already he was working his way over to the white building's right side.
"Mr. Wirth," Abelard almost growled at him, getting the white cat's attention mid-swing. Cainan looked mildly apprehensive as he turned towards the two, resting the bottom of the scythe's shaft against the ground where cut grass was strewn about. "Would you like to assist Mr. Wendell in looking after the grounds?"
"You mean as a job…?" Abelard stared at the younger cat in bewilderment. That subtle little smirk didn't go unnoticed, nor did the playfully coy tone of his. Abelard was starting to regret this decision.
"Yes, I do mean as a job," Abelard replied, partially through gritted teeth. He tried to calm himself down. "When would you be able to start?"
"Hmmm… I don't know I am rather busy right now doing this unpaid job here…" Cainan responded in an almost bored drawl as he gestured towards the scythe with his free hand. He appeared to check the nails on his hand, looking very casual. Abelard cast a sideways glance at Wendell who didn't seem any more amused than him. "But perhaps I can start once I'm done here, how's that sound, gentlemen?"
"Splendid…" Abelard could feel anger boiling up inside himself at the young cat's casual, joking demeanor, but he knew not to let it get the best of him. He could tell the younger cat was looking for a reaction. "I shall leave you to it in that case. I've got business to attend to in town."
"Alright, I'll see you later then," Cainan said casually, looking mighty pleased as he resumed his work, his fluffy, white tail giving a swish. Abelard silently watched him for a bit. Had he been played by the younger cat all along? He didn't want to assume the worst, but with the way Cainan acted, Abelard couldn't shake the feeling that it had somehow been his plan to end up here all along, although he wasn't certain.
"Just keep an eye on him," Abelard grunted at Wendell as he passed the old groundskeeper and headed off towards Defiance proper. Abelard was scowling the whole way up the dirt road. He still wasn't at all convinced that Cainan was the right person for this job, which he was sure would show itself sooner than later. He was sure Wendell would be able to see right through the white cat's charades.
Although… If Wendell were telling the truth and Cainan truly had come to him and offered assistance out of the blue, maybe he wasn't so bad. It was a charitable thing to do, admirable, really. Abelard sighed as he climbed the gently sloping hill. To give Cainan the benefit of the doubt, he supposed that perhaps the young cat's shifty demeanor was simply down to him being defensive, all alone in a once-familiar environment…
And yet Abelard still couldn't shake the all-too prevalent feeling that Cainan was bad news for the town. He supposed if Cainan were to stick around for the position, his true colors would show one way or another.
And what colors they were, if Abelard's interaction with him this morning were any indication.
Even more so than his shifty demeanor the previous day or his dodgy and indirect way of answering questions, Abelard found the way he acted so… so childish to be even more unbearable. The way he smirked at him, his sarcastic tone, his remarks… it was enough to make the reverend's blood boil, just thinking about it.
If nothing else, that boy sure lacked respect, it seemed.
Abelard started going about business as per usual, however. He tried his best to ignore his worries and doubts about Cainan, although he was sure Wendell would be regretting his decision by the time Abelard got back to the church.
Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, Abelard produced a box of matches and a box of cigarettes. He held a cigarette between his lips while he lit a match, before taking a hit of the cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs, nicotine rushing into his system. He breathed the smoke out in a long sigh. Smoking was one of his vices, but he felt as though he needed it at this moment in time, having to try and keep his spirits up and to keep his mind on something else.
Small wisps of smoke whirling around him as he walked, Abelard set course for Defiance General by himself, doing his best to not think about Cainan or Wendell. But despite his best efforts, his mind returned to the previous night's dinner. The conversation before and during dinner had also included Cainan, at least partially.
While Elsa hadn't said much on the matter, Bobby had participated in the conversation… somewhat. His brother-in-law didn't seem to think much of Cainan. Bobby had joined him and Elsa in the living room before dinner, while they waited for the food to finish cooking.
Bobby was a heavyset man around Cainan's height, his fur a light gray and when he spoke he had that distinct South-English accent of his. While Abelard likely wouldn't say he enjoyed Bobby's company, the two of them got along well enough.
"I think he's just some kid who doesn't know what he's doing," Bobby had remarked, rather indifferent on the whole situation. "Bloody hell, if you don't want to give him a job at the church, we could have him-"
But Abelard had refused that too – he hadn't even let Bobby finish his thought. He didn't think someone who looked like Cainan had the makings of a mortician. Nor were they exactly busy enough to warrant a third set of hands for that part of their business. And additionally, letting Cainan into the basement also meant he might see their… side-business.
That alone was something Abelard didn't need anyone outside their family to know about.
Though Elsa had remained mostly silent during dinner, she had weighed in after Abelard had loudly complained about his situation involving Cainan. She'd simply told him, "You wanted to help him, so that's what you should do. He's your responsibility now. It's what I would've wanted if it were you in need of help."
A small part of Abelard knew she was right, of course. Being village minister, he was probably the one who could help the young straggler the most. He had good relations with everyone there and he was the one who had voluntarily taken it upon himself to begin with.
Abelard looked up at the sky where fluffy, white clouds were rolling by far, far above him. What do you want from me? Are you testing me?
Once Abelard made it to Defiance General, he put out his cigarette and let himself in through the screen-door. The main door had been left open to allow air inside while keeping out big bugs and the like. As per usual, Abelard found Mr. Weaver waiting behind the counter. The hunched, elderly light-brown cat always kept things nice and tidy around the store to an impressive degree, especially given that he was running the store all on his own.
Though the walls of the small store did hold some amount of clutter, such as old bear traps hanging on the wall behind the counter and miscellaneous wall décor all around, it was a rather neat shop. Bookcases by the wall left of the counter held items for sale as did small stands in front of the counter, along with boxes lining the walls on either side of the front door. The floor was mostly cleared of stuff, save for a single table in front of the door where baskets held baked goods and further away by a window stood a small table with a chessboard on it, a chair on either side of it.
As Abelard closed the screen-door behind him, he removed his hat and sighed. He just had to take his mind off things, not think or talk about Cainan. "A good morning to you, Mr. Weaver. How do you do?"
It was a routine at this point, polite smalltalk between the two of them. A small smile showed on the elderly cat's face, lifting up his sagging cheeks as his big, lamp-like eyes gazed up at Abelard. "Oh, quite well, Father. I trust things are well with you too? You wouldn't happen to have time for a game of chess, would you?"
Abelard hesitated for a moment. "I'm afraid today's not a good day for chess, as I do have business to attend to momentarily. I simply wanted to stop by as I always do."
"Is something troubling you?" The hunched older cat looked at Abelard curiously.
"I simply just have my hands full at the church, Mr. Weaver. It's a lot to handle; this young stranger came into town yesterday and-"
"Not another scoundrel from the city, I hope?" Mr. Weaver's raspy voice had an underlying touch of ire and Abelard couldn't blame him. He knew he too had had to deal with quite a few people from the city camping out around Defiance General; Marigolds mainly. They considered this small town to be their territory when it came to the illegal alcohol trade, and they guarded it quite fiercely now that it was no longer Lackadaisy's.
"No… As a matter of fact, he used to live here," Abelard replied in a weary tone. He already didn't like where this conversation was going; Cainan seemed to find his way into every thought and every conversation he had with people as of late. "When he was a child that is."
"Really now?" Mr. Weaver asked with considerably more interest than before. "Who is it?"
Abelard once more found himself hesitating to answer. He didn't partake in gossip, but did this count? If anything, to Abelard this was just general conversation. Surely it didn't count to just inform Mr. Weaver that there was a stranger in town. "Well, his name is Cainan Wirth. I don't know if you're-"
"The Wirth boy is here?" Abelard was caught by surprise by the skeptical look on Mr. Weaver's sagging face, and even more so by his tone of suspicion. "What does he even want here?"
Taking note of the contemptuous tone coming from Mr. Weaver's last question, Abelard felt his curiosity being piqued, much to his own annoyance. Perhaps he shouldn't have disregarded what Cainan had said when he explained his situation yesterday. Perhaps there truly was some amount of bad blood between Cainan and the locals following the young cat's departure.
"He wants to work." Abelard watched Mr. Weaver carefully, trying to see what kind of reaction his answer might get out of the older cat. "He came back to set things right with his parents, but he also wants to settle down here. I'd wager he's feeling nostalgic for his childhood home, perhaps."
"Hmmm…" Mr. Weaver squinted as though he was trying to figure out whether the statement was true or not. Abelard knew the suspicion wasn't directed at him, of course, but he still found it curious. "After what he pulled back then, I'm surprised he had the nerve to come back looking for his parents. Homeless and in need of help, I take it? Doesn't surprise me…"
"It doesn't? I remember the Wirths as being quite respectable," Abelard noted calmly. He didn't like where this was going. Had he been misjudging that entire family? He was really getting into the gossip now, despite knowing better, but Abelard had a feeling this particular brand of gossip might hold some relevant information about the young stranger he had begrudgingly just given a job.
"Oh, no, don't get me wrong, Father. His parents were very respectable – saintly, even. Bless them," Mr. Weaver quickly said, his tone somewhat apologetic. He brushed his wispy, pale head fur back with his hand. "But their son was… Last I remember, he not only ran away for no apparent reason and broke their hearts, but he also took off with a bunch of their money, Father. The poor Wirths, they were distraught – you would have thought their son had died."
"Really now? That's… very interesting…" Abelard could once more feel anger start to well up inside him, but he wasn't sure who it was aimed at. Was it aimed at Cainan for what he did? For lying to him and omitting a big truth like that? Or was it aimed at himself for giving in, despite his reservations and his feelings? For offering the young cat work at the church without being certain he was fit for it? Abelard wasn't at all sure, but he tried to calm himself the best he could, even if it was easier said than done. "And was that… common knowledge around town? I do not partake in gossip and hearsay… May the Lord forgive me for not knowing better…"
"Don't blame yourself, Father. I don't imagine scum and scoundrels like that go around proudly talking about their sins and their crimes," the elderly cat almost spat. The dislike was apparent, not just in his tone, but also through the look on his face. "I'd suggest you turn him away; let the boy wallow in his own mess."
Abelard didn't respond, he glanced out the screen-door, feeling as though he'd made a grave mistake. Who exactly had he left with his groundskeeper at the church? Cainan had a lot to explain to him. "Well… This has been very informative, Mr. Weaver. I'd best get back to my church – young Mr. Wirth has a lot of explaining to do…"
Leaving Defiance General behind, Abelard didn't linger in town for once, walking with purpose towards the church. He greeted the few people he met on his way, though he didn't stick around for smalltalk and pleasantries. After learning what he had from Mr. Weaver, the longer Abelard spent away from his church while Cainan was there, the more it felt as though he was likely to return to find the church on fire.
He couldn't believe he had been so easily swayed into giving Cainan a prestigious job – no, responsibility – like that. He would have to give Wendell a piece of his mind as well; he had vouched for him! It wasn't an inherit surprise that Cainan had withheld the truth – in fact, Abelard had suspected as much since the moment they met, but never quite to this degree.
Was he going to hear Cainan out? Should he? The evidence was stacking up against him and the feeling of distrust had never left Abelard whenever he thought of Cainan. He should have followed his instinct, Abelard realized that now. To Abelard, this made Cainan little better than the troublemakers that had once plagued Defiance in the early days of Prohibition.
Thinking this over as he made his way to the final treeline that separated him and the church, Abelard did hesitate. Was that assessment too harsh? Perhaps it was… But Abelard wouldn't stand for anything like that, not in his church. The young cat and his secretive mannerisms, his shifty demeanor, all of it should have been a red flag for Abelard. Even now as he descended the small hill that led down towards the church, he could see Cainan and Wendell out in front of the white building. The white cat was still at work cutting the grass and the old tuxedo cat shoveled the cut grass into the wheelbarrow.
"Ah, there you are, Abelard. We were waiting for you, so we could-" But Wendell didn't finish his thought as Abelard walked right past him, moving straight for Cainan, who hadn't even noticed the approaching reverend yet. "Abelard, what are you-?"
"You have some explaining to do, young man," Abelard practically snarled as he grabbed Cainan's shoulder and whirled him around to face him. The startled, young cat dropped the scythe, which fell onto the heap of mowed grass at their feet. Abelard had no regard for the tool nor its sharp blade as he glared Cainan in the eyes, the young cat's pale green ones wide in shock.
"What did I do…?" he asked in a surprisingly meek voice as he looked up at Abelard.
"You know damned well what you did," Abelard snapped at him, pointing a slender finger right at his face in a threatening manner. His other hand held onto Cainan's collar. "How dare you omit a big truth like that when I offer to help you?! You dare taint your soul through thievery – and of your own kin no less! You-"
"Abelard! For God's sake, calm yourself!" Wendell had come to Cainan's rescue, grabbing Abelard's wrist. "The boy's bleeding."
Whatever Abelard had been about to say left his mind in an instant when he heard this. He shot Wendell a look. "What are you talking about?"
But when Abelard looked down, he saw that the scythe's blade had left a slash in Cainan's right pants leg. He also noticed that the blade's thin, sharp edge had been reddened, as was the blue denim of Cainan's pants. Abelard swore at himself inwardly and sighed. He couldn't immediately tell how bad it was, but given how much blood was on Cainan's pant leg, he figured it would be best to wait with the confrontation.
Cainan too looked equally surprised by this as he looked down. "Oh…"
Already, Wendell had moved the scythe away and gotten down on his knees with a mighty grunt, raising the young cat's pant leg to look. Abelard reluctantly let go of Cainan and stepped back. "How bad is it…?"
Wendell didn't answer right away. Cainan winced as the old tuxedo cat touched his leg. He pulled out a white cloth and wrapped it around Cainan's leg, his pristine white fur now stained with red. "It looks deep, Abelard. You might have to bring him home."
"Home…?" Cainan asked nervously, but Abelard ignored him.
"Very well… Come along, Mr. Wirth." Of course, Abelard did have to hold onto the younger cat to assist him on his way – best not to tempt fate too much – even despite how much Abelard would rather shout at him… But now was not the time.