Chapter 14

River Forge

He'd watch the ranch grow before his eyes. They didn't just raise the food needed to support the restaurant, nor even the town. In time they were supplying the whole territory. They hired on more men to work it. As Clay got bigger, he was entrusted with ever growing responsibility. Of course, Charlie was the foreman, but Clay was always at his side. A right-hand man if you will, and this group of men respected him for it. For he was not the kind of kid that took hard work sitting down. He was not afraid to get dirty or even put himself in front of the herd if the situation called for it.

In time the Lazy Bar grew to be twice the size of Jay's ranch and he was rustling cattle and moving herds with the rest of them. As Hendrick got older, he could even afford to sit back and relax a bit. Let them younger heartier men do the heavy lifting.

~.~

This strange woman called to him. She reached for him. There was profound sadness in her eyes. There was a longing to go to her. The river was wide. Too wide, and deep. It was impossible to cross, But her pull on him was strong.

~.~

He snapped up in a sweat.

He started having these dreams a little over a month ago, or different variations of the same dream. Sometimes the scene would be midday, or early morning, but mostly would take place in the dead of night. The rivers were not always the same; sometimes fast, sometimes still. Nor what paralleled them. Cities, small villages, or the thicket of forest. But two factors would remain the same. The river was always too wide and too deep to cross and there would always be a woman on the other side bidding him to try, and it would always be the same woman. Hair golden, lips ruby. Her eyes, a galaxy of sorrow. She didn't call to him so much with her voice, for if she could speak, she was too far to hear. But he heard her. He heard her in a way that went beyond words. He heard her in his soul, and she called to him with the deepest longing. It hurt him so much that even when he'd open his eyes, his chest would ache and he'd sit in bed bidding down the pain, wondering why it hurt so much. She wasn't real. Just a figment of his imagination, but she felt real. So real in fact, that being apart from her felt like he was ripping out his own heart. What does this mean?

Though these dreams were concerning enough, what he'd find when he woke in the morning was even more alarming. His feet would be dirty. Sometimes he'd awaken in a different room, anywhere from the kitchen to the floor of their bedrooms.

He'd never remember how he'd gotten there. Since his housemates started to pick up on his night ventures, they began to keep an eye out for him. They would explain at his confusion that he'd been sleepwalking. He didn't know what that meant. Though they didn't always catch him as this wasn't a nightly ordeal. It would happen rather sporadically and most nights they'd sleep through it, being none the wiser the next morning.

~.~

Charles had been dusting out his boots when he caught sight of the boy walking from the house towards the trees.

"Clay!" He tried calling to him. "Hey, boy!" But the boy ignored his calls. Wondering if he'd been sent on an errand, he thought at first to let it be, but some niggling feeling told him to ask Hendrick about it. There was no immediate answer. When Charles got forceful with the knock was when Mick answered. To his surprise, his knocking had awoken a grumpy rancher.

"What is it?"

"The boy. Did you send him off?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He's not here. He just walked off into them trees."

"Did you stop him?"

"The kid was in a daze. He wasn't hearing me."

"Damned kid is sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?"

"He's been doing that lately." He announced in a shaky voice slipping his feet into his boots which were at the door and grabbing the lantern off the wall. "We got to find him. You know which way he went?"

"This way."

They split up as they got into the thicket. Mick heading towards the river and Charles following the tree line.

This woman called to him. Her sorrow so profound. She reached for him. The river was as wide as the red sea, with a depth that reached to the underworlds. It was impossible to cross. At least that's what she must have thought which was why she never came to him. But she wasn't meant to come to him. He was always meant to go to her. He must go to her. She called to him expectantly. Somehow, he felt that if he stepped in, the waters would melt away and the ground would rise up to meet his foot. He could reach her. He just had to try.

Taking that first step the icy chill met him. Shocking at first, the cold became a distant sensation. He waded further in, until he was knee deep.

"Boy!"

A shout from behind him broke through her call. He looked back to find the source. Mick was coming down from the hill. He tried speaking to him, but his mouth wasn't working. He had to go to her. He wanted to explain but couldn't. She was there, arm outstretched. He waded further in.

Clay was at waist level when he heard the deep splashing behind him and he was lifted out of the water, bodies twisting until both landed on the grass.

"What are you doing? You want to get yourself killed!" He was shouting, or at least talking with very much excitement.

"Mister Hendrick!" A voice holding a lantern came down from a hill. "You found him."

The boy knew this voice belonged to the one and only Charles. It was confirmed when the tall, thin figure made it over to them.

He'd heard Mick's shouts and followed it. The two of them soaking wet, out of breath, lying next to the river was the sight he came upon. "Are you okay?" Though who he was talking to wasn't clear as both continued to lay out over the grass. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's a bit wet is all." Mick said getting up and shakily swiping himself down. "Run up ahead. Have Miss Calderon heat up some water. I'll take him back."

~.~

"She's there. Waiting for me." He explained. A blanket draped over his shoulders, hunched over a steaming cup he clutched in his hands. The three adults filling up the room. "She's telling me to come to her."

"And you recognize this woman?"

"No. I've never seen her before. But I feel connected to her somehow."

Mick patted his leg. "Alright. Come on. Let's get you off to bed."

"What if it happens again?"

"It's only two hours till daybreak. I can stay up. Watch over him until then." Charlie offered. Ana gave an appreciative smile.

"You don't have to do that." Mick stepped in.

"It's no problem, sir."

"No. You need your rest. You're the backbone of this operation. I'll stay up. What does a few hours mean to me?"

"Really, I can do it."

"I'd just prefer you get your rest. Now off with you." He ushered him out the door. Ana and Charles exchanging a final glance before he was out, and the door closed between them.

~.~

"Rivers." Hendrick started over breakfast. Clay looked up. "You seem to have a strong affinity for them. Maybe that should be your last name? What? You didn't think I forgot, did you?" The boy scrunched. Calderon blushed. "That's a good strong name." Mick justified.

"Clay Rivers? That might be a bit much. Don't you think? He'll be making himself off to be a gypsy."

Hendrick chuckled at his own embarrassment. "Perhaps you're right. I didn't hear the way it sounded until you just said it."

~.~

Clay saw them walking in the orchard that evening. Just the two of them. They were strolling. Mick picked an apple and gave it to her. They hadn't seen him. They didn't know he was there.

Clay was too far from them to pick up on the conversation they were having but he didn't think they were there to inspect the apples. There was jealousy in his heart. Resentment. For the first time, and for a reason he couldn't quite yet rationalize, he saw Charles as a threat. Like he was there to take someone away from him that was important to him. Clay liked Ana. His heart fluttered when he thought of her. It ached at the thought of losing her. His own emotions confused him. She was too old for him. She, reaching her thirties. Clay was only fourteen. He knew that they could never be together like that. So, what was it about her that made him scared to lose her?

That was it. He was afraid. Afraid of being given up. Afraid of losing the one home he had left.

~.~

"Hey Clay, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. You mind iffin I sit?" He came to him weeks later.

"Sure." He patted his leg as he sat then took in a deep inhale and stared among the stars.

"What is it you want to talk to me about?"

"I've asked Ana to be my wife."

"You have?"

"We're getting married. What do you think of that?"

He had watched them, ever since that night in the orchard. He'd see the new way they'd look at each other. The times they would try to break away from the group and find each other. How painfully happy they were at each other's side.

All the while, Clay would watch from a distance and feel evermore that his home was slipping from him.

"Well, that's great. I'm happy for you."

Still, he had resentment in his heart. It wasn't fair really. These two were great and wonderful people. They deserved all the happiness in the world. "What does Mister Hendrick think of that?"

"We haven't told him yet. We were thinking of telling him tonight over supper. You think he'll be mad?"

"Be mad? Why would he be mad?"

"I don't want him to think that we were doing no funny business while we were in his house. It was all work all the time."

"No, I don't think he'll be mad at all."

"You know what Clay you're turning into a fine young man yourself. Someday you're going to find a nice young lady and settle down."

~.~

They stared at each other over supper. Bidding each other to speak first. Miss Calderon kicked him under the table forcing him to clear his throat.

"Uh Miss Calderon." He bowed and turned to Mister Hendrick. "We have an announcement." He stood but stopped speaking. He picked up a glass and hit it with a fork even though he already had the table's attention.

"Well, what is it boy? Speak." He gulped and took a sip from the glass that was in his hand as his throat had become suddenly dry. When it was moistened enough to get words past, he spoke.

"I have asked Miss Calderon to be my wife." He looked to her now, who was smiling and blushing shyly. She looked radiant.

"Oh really? That's great."

The lovebirds smiled brightly.

"You really think so?"

"Are you kidding? I've been waiting for you two to get together. Come on. Bring it in. You too, Clay. Get in here."

Even Clay could be happy in this moment. This was the epitome of a perfect life. A perfect family. But Clay felt an encroaching since of doom as if this happiness would not last. He would be right. For another reason, then he originally thought.

~.~

Overtime, Hendrick's energy had grown thin. It was nothing noticeable initially, but within months it was something Ana became so concerned with that she insisted he get checked out. So, one day she drove him the two hours to the Astoria doctor. They left early that morning and didn't get back until near evening. There was an air of melancholy about him. Ana looked like she'd been crying the whole way back. The moment she saw the boy her tears flowed anew, and she escaped off to the washroom.

"What's wrong?"

"Have a seat, son. I've got some bad news. I'm dying." He said when they were alone. "Doctors say I don't have very much longer to live."

"What? That can't be. You're healthy."

"No, I've been feeling it for a while."

"No. You're wrong. They're wrong. They don't know what they're talking about."

"It's liver damage. Those years of drink finally caught up with me."

~.~

With time the boy grew restless. Ana was the first to notice. The boy had become wild, unruly and untamed. He took this behavior out to the field with him and now Charles was seeing that this typically mild-mannered dependable boy, his trustworthy right-hand man was turning into something different. Something wild and unmanageable. He expressed his concerns to her, his fiancée, whom he felt he could tell anything to. She informed old man Hendrick of her observations and Charlie's. The conversation fell short though. Just how the others wish to stay blinded to his illness, he too would rather not notice the boy's ill nature, but in time, his eyes so too would become open.

~.~

Charles had taken up the Sunday shopping trips with Clay into the Astoria markets. Charles was offloading their offerings and effectively making the sale. Clay, having a good grasp of the items they needed, had started the shopping while he worked.

He was twenty yards from him. He'd given a clerk a list of goods he was to gather. While the clerk worked, he too was working, picking up items and putting them into a basket. Charles has had a growing concern for the boy. His tempered nature had put he and others at risk at times and when he'd try talking to him about it, he would respond in anger. He knew the boy was hurting but he was becoming a risk. Too much of a risk to be left alone. Besides he felt the boy needed to get out of the house.

These market trips used to be something Mick and the boy would do together. Now that Mick had become too weak to travel this responsibility fell on Charlie's shoulders. It had to sting not to have Mick at his side, but the boy seemed to be handling it well. Though his shoulders were tight, his gait stiff, he handled his part with the upmost professionalism. Charles let his concern fall for the boy and turned back to give the merchant all his attention.

"Dirt." He looked back to see the boys, 17 and 21 approaching Clay.

Oh no.

But Clay was no longer that scared little boy. There was a look about him as if this was a fight he'd been anticipating and even craving. "There you are. We've been looking for you." He drew his weapon upon them. Their smug faces instantly dropped, and they stopped in place. He reveled the power he had. The fear he evoked.

Peter came up out of the distance. He was here too. He, seeing what was happening approached slowly from behind his brothers. His arms were drawn up to show the boy that he was not a threat. He bypassed his brothers. When he was before them, he slipped in front, still with hands drawn to show he didn't want to hurt the boy, but he didn't want the boy to hurt them either. His eyes were pleading.

"Clay." Charles called from his side, with gentle voice. He approached. Clay, put down the gun. When he was close enough, he placed his hand cautiously on top of the barrel and pushed gently down. When the gun was lowered, he pulled it from the boy. Charles looked at Peter then.

"Go."

Peter drew his brothers away and out of there. Looking around, many bystanders were stopped and looking on.

"Come on. We got to go."

~.~

"Can I have my gun back?" He said on the ride home.

Are you serious? "No."

"It's my gun. Give it to me."

"It is not your gun. It's Hendrick's."

"He gave it to me."

"He did not give it to you."

"Yes, he did."

"It was meant to be used as a training tool. Something for you to get smarter by. Learned on. Apparently, it only made you stupid."

"He wanted me to have a way to defend myself."

"I wanted you to have a way to defend yourself." Charles corrected. "He didn't want you to have it at all. He thought you were too young for it. He didn't want to raise a gunslinger. I convinced him otherwise. I thought that we could teach you when to use it and when not to. I thought you'd be smart enough to pick up on that. Boy was I wrong. What will he think when he finds out what you did."

"What? What did I do? Isn't that why he gave me the gun? What you were training me for?

"No. Clay. Don't you see? They weren't armed. They weren't a threat to you."

"But how about all those times?"

"All those other times don't matter. What matters is today. What happens now. That's what the law sees. They don't care about what happened back then. It's about now and the facts were, they weren't armed. If you'd have pulled that trigger, you'd have been hung for murder."

"I'm just supposed to let them torment me?"

"No."

"You heard what they were saying. They were starting up again."

"I heard. But you can't shoot people for just words. You have to find another way. Don't you see? Your whole life could have been ruined if you'd pulled that trigger."

"I don't care." An anger swelled within Charlie then.

"You may not care but we do. How about the hurt you would have caused Ana and me? How about the hurt you would have caused Mick. After all we've done for you, all we've invested, to have it end with you at the end of a rope. You think that's something he should experience before he dies? You may not care about your life, but it would be nice if you had a little more forethought for the people who do."

The boy went silent and so did Charlie. After a moment the boy responded.

"I'm sorry." He'd never considered it ending that way. For the first time he felt the err in his actions. Charles softened. He new he was being rough on the boy, but he felt these were words he needed to hear.

"You just need to exhibit more caution when pulling your gun. If you feel your life is in danger, then by all means you do what you have to, but don't you dare take a man's life for anything less. Not ever. You hear me? Not ever."

He nodded subdued now.

"Are you going to give me the gun back?"

"I'm sorry kid. I can't. Not yet. Not after what you've exhibited."

This led to another fear rising. Aside from that of not being able to protect oneself and being forced into the life of inertia and solitude to survive. One fear greater than that arose.

"Are you going to tell him?"

~.~

Mick was enjoying the afternoon sun on the covered patio when Clay was coming in from the herd the next day. He'd been waiting for him.

"Have a seat here son. We have to talk." His voice had become so aged from the first time he'd asked him to sit in these chairs, he observed. "I heard what happened in Astoria yesterday."

He began the same lecture Charlie had. After a few minutes he stopped, realizing the boy was shutting down on him.

"What's going on with you?" Hendrick tried to get to the root of the problem, but Clay couldn't quite iterate what his bothers were. Though he knew it would be better for Clay to speak them, he really didn't have to. Hendrick could guess well enough what was eating at him. He wasn't taking his passing too well. On top of that, the engagement might be turning him on his heels. Perhaps Clay was questioning where he would fit into this life when he was gone. Hendrick was going to assuage him.

"I've seen you grow over these last few years. I've watch you turn from this scared little boy to a strong and healthy young man. But perhaps some of your old fears are returning. You're wondering what your place is going to be after I'm gone. You need not have those worries. Charles and I have talked. We've agreed that you should get the ranch when I'm gone. This place will belong to you.

"What? No."

"Yes. You've earned it. You've helped me build this thing to the enterprise it is. You would do me great honor to continue on my legacy. This home will be your home. This place, your place, for permanent."

Clay was in such a state of shock, he could not form the words to thank him. Hendrick wasn't needing one. With a pat on the back, he excused himself to bed. He'd been sleeping a lot more now.

~.~

Clay's restlessness did not dissipate. It only strengthened like a wild wind growing to the force of a hurricane. When it became dangerous, too dangerous, for he'd been told of his actions out there with the wild herd, he'd have to sit down with Clay again.

"I need you to talk to me."

"About what?"

"What's going on with you?"

He couldn't say. Not at a time like this.

This time he couldn't risk Clay not telling him what was bothering him. He had to force it out of him, even if he had to pry it out with a crowbar.

"Sit down." He snapped.

Clay could see the seriousness in him. He guilted over the stress he put on this man whom he loved so much. His dying father.

"Son. Talk to me. Tell me what you're experiencing." Clay's eyes watered. He couldn't let this old man hear the pain that was going on inside, but his father wasn't letting it be otherwise.

"Son?"

He shot up and pushed past, walking to the edge of the porch and leant against the frame. Hendrick followed and placed a paternal hand on his back. This only worsened his sense of entrapment. Enough to face it. Face him.

"You look out there. You see wide open sky. Earth that goes on for miles. You see space. I look around and all I see are fences. I see a world that I'm not a part of."

"You are a part of it, son.

"No. I'm not."

"Whatever gives you the impression you're not?"

Clay only faltered. "I never told you this but Jay, he used to keep me in a cage."

"I know. Charles told me." He responded mournfully. Clay looked up at him surprised that he knew. "I know it's something you don't like to talk about, so I never brought it up."

"What did he tell you?"

Hendrick struggled with the words. "That they were trying to get you used to the sun."

"Did he tell you that I almost died?" There was a despondency in the old man's eyes. "I wanted to."

"It was a cruel form of torture."

"They kept doing it. For three years." This insight surprised the old man.

"I didn't know."

"Sometimes, I was out in the sun. Sometimes all alone in the darkness of the barn. Even when not in those cages the very property line, they got me to see as nothing more than a cage. The walls that kept me from freedom. When they would challenge me to get past them then hunt me down like an animal. You see every bit of that ranch was a cage. From the barn, to the shed I slept, to the entire ranch. It was one giant cage."

"You're not there anymore."

He looked him dead in the eyes. "I look around this place, with wide open spaces and all I see is that ranch. Those fences." His gut wrenched. "I'm dying here. I can't get out."

"I should have known how you felt. I thought by rescuing you I could make your life better."

"You did. You did. I don't mean to be ungrateful for what you've done for me. I would still be there in those cages if it weren't for you. Oh, who am I? I'm an ungrateful wretch. I don't mean to diminish what you did for me. I could never repay you in a thousand years for what you did."

"You owe me nothing. I gave you back what should never have been taken from you."

"Oh, but I do owe you. I know I do, and I feel rotten that all I want to do is leave."

"After what you've been through your feelings are completely understandable. I should have known how you'd feel."

"Listen, Charles is a good man. He's been with you for a good many more years than I and he's been loyal that entire time. It's not right you giving the ranch to me. Give it to him." Hendrick smiled knowingly then nodded.

"It's settled. Charles gets the ranch." They both smiled. "But don't tell him. Not yet. I want it to be a surprise. A wedding surprise."

"Oh, he'll love that."

~.~

That evening Hendrick broached the supper. "You know I don't have much longer. Two things I would like to see happen before I go. One. I would like to see you two finally get married." They embraced in bitter sweetness. "And for you. I want you to find some peace in your heart. Find your belonging. Your home, and when you do, nurture it. Watch it grow. Live it to your best."

Charlie and Ana smiled warmly, knowing that his home would always be here. Clay just had to find it.

"Yes sir." Clay responded, knowing what Mick was really telling him.

"You three make me the happiest old man there ever was."

~.~

The plans were made.

"They got married in the orchard. It seemed the whole town was in attendance and even members of her tribe.

Mister Hendrick gave her away. He had to be wheeled all the way down the aisle. Clay was the one doing the pushing, so in a way it was like they were both giving her away.

Clay and Hendrick took up the front row. The row designated for close relatives. Clay held his hand throughout. Prominent townsfolk took the second and third row.

The feast was large. The celebration great. They partied on into the night. Hendrick's energy ran through quickly and he had to call it an early night, escaping off into his chambers. The couple knew and understood and carried on without him.

When the last of the guest had gone, they'd gone in to see how he was doing. Clay was already sitting with him. He was at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She went to close the door.

"No. Come in."

"We didn't want to interrupt. We just wanted to see how you're fairing."

"I'm glad you're here. Come join us."

"You sure?"

"Yeah come in. I've got something to give you."

"Oh." They both came in.

"You didn't open any wedding present from me." He began.

"Oh, I thought…"

"Well, we didn't see any. I thought…" They both started over each other.

"No. There was nothing there from me."

"Well, you've been sick. I mean that's okay. We didn't expect anything."

"But I did get you something."

"Oh." The newlyweds looked at each other.

"Go over to my dresser. Open the top drawer."

"Clay helped me pick it out." He handed over the package. It was a flat box wrapped in brown parchment, tied up with twine.

"Open it." She did most of the opening. Charles helped where he could. The paper was off and now they stared at a white box. It was an old shirt box in fact, repurposed now, unless he planned on giving them one of his old shirts. "Go on." She peeled off the top. More brown parchment protected what appeared to be a note. They peeled it open, unfolding it like the cover of a book. It looked more official than a book.

It's a copy of my last will and testament.

They took the paper out and unfolded it. She gasped immediately Charles took hold and looked up shocked.

"You can't do that."

"What am I going to need with it anymore?"

"Well, well…" He stammered.

"Well, what? Go on."

"Well, I just thought you were gonna give it to Clay. I mean that's what you always talked about."

"He helped me realize that there are two better suited for this and much more deserving. I never saw it before but you two were there long before he showed up. You've stayed loyal when everyone else gave up on me."

"They looked at each other guiltily."

"I'm not naïve. I saw what you two had even before you two knew it yourself. Still, I like to think I had a little something to do with it too."

"You did. You had everything to do with it. You saved our lives too."

"Darling, you flatter me. No. You two would make an old man happy if you accepted this."

"Yes, we will."

"I know you will do well with this land."

"Oh, thank you."

"Thank you, Mister Hendrick."

There was one more present that I have but it's not for you. It's for you. He looks to Clay who sat please to be a part of this display.

"For me?"

"I wanted you two to be here when I unravel it."

"You didn't have to…"

"Actually, I did. I made a promise. There was one thing left I had to do, and I couldn't rest until I did. It's been something I've been thinking about for a long time, and I think I've finally got it."

"What?"

"Stafford."

"What?"

"I think Stafford would make for a good proper last name."

"What made you think of that?"

"I did make a promise. Didn't I."

"But why Stafford."

"You'll just love how I came about it. You see there are a few things in this world which I just know you love. Rivers being one of them. Well, we determined that was a silly name but that got me thinking about something else."

"What?"

"Moses."

"Moses?"

"That one seemed to be your favorite story. You see, you and he had a lot in common." He wasn't wrong. But he still didn't get the correlation. "Well, we determined rivers was silly, but how about Moses's staff?" He explained. "It was through the power that ran through the staff that the path became opened and a whole population could forge through. God performed wonders through Moses's staff. With God's power you could forge any river." Clay thought on this. "I considered, Clay Moses for a while, but it just didn't seem to have that umph you were looking for."

"Staff Forge."

"No. Not Staff Forge."

"Staff Ford."

"Stafford."

"Clay Stafford." Old man Hendrick iterated. "A strong first name, a proper last one." To which the boy smiled.

"Clay Stafford. I like it."

"Do you?"

"I do." His near tears admitted as much.

"You're legit." Charlie announced.

"I'm legit."

"You're a real person." Ana agreed.

They all celebrated over their newfound fortune late into the night. There were hugs and cheer and even drinks all around.

~.~

He dreamt of a woman standing on the other side of a large river. A fare skinned woman who reached her hand out to him. People passed between. Boats passed. The woman grew more distressed. She called to him. Needed him.

I don't know how. He mouthed to her.

All at once her skin changed. It darkened like it was getting burnt up, scorched by fire. He was horror stricken. Her dress changed too. From a fair dancing gown to an ash ridden peasant's gown. She became a little heavier, a little shorter. Her hair charred and black, but the urgency was still there. This woman he recognized. She called to him.

Prince.

He could hear her though her lips didn't move.

I can't get to you.

He awoke in such a start.

He hadn't thought of her in such a long time. He'd forgotten the look of her face, but there she was, clear as day, every detail in his dream. His heart ached for her anew. As if it was the first day, he'd left her.

~.~

He snuck out that night and made it down to the river. He looked out across it, feeling like he was missing something. Oh, it was foolish to think how she was on the other side of it. He knew how far away she was. How many rivers he had crossed. If he wanted to make it back to her, he would have to cross just as many rivers. Of course, he'd never make it if he didn't start with this one.

"Hey kid. You doing okay? Saw you coming out this way."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Thought you might be having another nightmare."

"No. I'm fine."

"Why are you out here."

I was just thinking."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Actually yes."

"What?"

"I was having a nightmare. I had a nightmare. Before. Before I came out here. I wasn't sleepwalking but…"

"Was it her?"

"Yes. But no. Yes and no. She changed. For the first time. She changed. It was her. Delphe. The woman who raised me. She was calling me. Telling me to come to her."

Charles let out a heavy breath letting this sink in.

"You gonna go to her?" Clay looked up. "

"I have to. Besides, you don't need a young brat hanging about here. Not when you're ready to start a family of your own."

"Don't you let Ana hear you talking like that."

"No. I'm serious. I'm not family."

"We could be your family."

"No. This isn't where I'm supposed to be."

"I know." Clay was surprised at how easily he gave in. "Mick told me what was going on with you. I know how you feel and now why you feel it."

"I'm sorry."

"No kid. You don't have to be. You did nothing wrong. You stayed all these years despite how this place was hurting you."

"You were good to me."

"And you felt like you owed us."

"I did. I do." He grimaced. These words panged Charles.

"No. It's me that has wronged you. I should have taken you out that first day. The first day they put you in that cage, I should have taken you out and left. You wouldn't have had these trauma's if I did."

"They wouldn't have let you. You'd have been shot in the attempt."

"I should have tried."

"I'm glad you didn't. I'd have never gotten to know you if you did."

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't know how this place was making you feel."

"You guys gave me a good life. I will forever be grateful for the years I had here. When I think back on this place, it will be happy memories."

"I guess now you have direction. You going to go find her?"

"I feel like she's in trouble. I have to find her."

"I'll be leaving after the funeral."

~.~

Like he promised he was there for the funeral. He was there when they laid him in the ground. He was there to say his final 'thank you'.

"Thank you for what you did for me."

His luggage was packed and waiting for him on the bed. He said his final goodbyes to the house and the ranchmen. His goodbye to Ana was a tear filled one. Charles drove him to the station.

"Remember what I said. You'll always have a place back here."

"Thank you but I don't think I'll be coming back."

"Here." He pushed the package in his hand.

"What's this?" Clay reservedly peeled it open and peered at what was inside.

"Hendrick wanted you to have it."

"No."

"You're ready." He assured at his conflict. "Taking on the world now. You're going to need it." It was the gun and holster. "Stay up on your practices. Remember what we've taught you."

"I will."

"Treat it well and it will treat you well."

"I know it will. It's a Mick Hendrick special."

"He adored you."

"I owed him much more than I could ever repay."

"You don't know it, but you repaid him tenfold. You helped him right the wrong, the sins of his past. That's all he ever wanted. You helped him do it. He died with honor because of you. But you gave him more than that. You gave him the son he never had. You redeemed him." Clay reflected. "His one hope for you is that one day you'll be able to right wrong the sins of your past."

"I just want to be in the world. The world I've been kept away from for so long."

"Maybe in a way that's what you need to right away those wrongs."

"Yeah."

"Good luck out there."

"Same to you."

~.~

He had a new name and money in the bank. Money he'd earned and saved through the years. This would get him through. He was fifteen when he left the ranch that day. With a pocket full of cash and a head full of dreams the world lay before him but he knew which direction he was heading. Home.

Authors Notes:

As we know Clay fought in Juarez's army as a second lieutenant. The question arises how he would go from one life to another and have such a high standing as a Gringo? Did you know that Benito Juarez was exiled to New Orleans in 1853? Clay would be a young adult at this time. So, ask yourself, how could I come about this information and not use it?