Rebel Song (8 page)

CHAPTER 12

His pastoral dreams were consumed by flames, blood and screams. His eyes shot open and he gasped for breath. His right hand swung out to find his knife and it wasn’t until he clutched its leather handle that he realized where he was; safe in his bed. He let out his breath and closed his eyes, trying to call back her image. Realizing she was lost to the dream world, he surrendered to the idea of getting up for work.

Pulling himself from bed to the sounds of popping joints and muscles he should be too young for, he fumbled for a pair of cargo pants crumpled on the floor beside the bed and a long-sleeved shirt slung over his chair. Groggy and wrinkled, he trudged to the kitchen to find Lorena and Jasper bickering. She clutched a heavy iron pan in her right hand threateningly as he eased back into the counter. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, frizzy locks sticking out on the sides, and her cold, gray-green eyes were hard as ice.

“Have you no concern for your family?” She shrieked.

“Lorena, be reasonable,” Jasper begged, trying to bring his wife back to composure. 

“You’d just throw it all away, wouldn’t you? Just like Theron did? Leaving us to rot in the palm of Ballantyne’s goons?” Lorena flailed her pan-clenched hand upward, sending Jasper up on top of the black rock countertop.

“Honey, please,” Jasper urged. His eyes flicked to Rogan standing in the doorway.

“If I wanted to end up a desperate widow like my sister, maybe I should have married a damned Elwood. Oh wait, I can’t now. They’re all
dead.
”

Rogan cleared his throat conspicuously, drawing his aunt and uncle’s heads sharply toward him.

“Excuse me,” he said nodding his head in curt acknowledgment. “Please continue.”

“Rogan, I…I’m sorry,” Lorena sputtered, lowering the pan. Jasper glared at his wife. Rogan waved his hand to show he was unscathed by her rant.

“Ah, Lorena. You don’t think I know how you feel about my da after all these years?” He retrieved a jar of milk from the refrigerator and helped himself to a long gulp directly from the jar.

“Rogan, please,” Lorena said disapproving his lack of manners. He stopped mid-swig and cocked his head toward his aunt.

“Please what?”

“Would you please use a glass?”             

“Oh, I’m sorry. I learned my manners from Theron. You know, that foolish ass of a father of mine.”

“Rogan,” Jasper tried to intervene.

“Don’t,” Rogan held up his hand to silence his uncle. “I’d like to hear more about my foolish da. The way he left my ma and us to rot in…what was it? Ballantyne’s palm?”

“Rogan, you are taking this out of context. You didn’t hear—” Lorena started.

“I heard enough.”

“Well you didn’t know—”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t
know him?
Weren’t
there?”

“Hold your tongue,” Lorena snapped, pointing a bony finger at him. “I know you were there. I know you witnessed a great deal. But
no
, you didn’t
know
him the way I did. Theron Elwood was a great man. He was a smart man, a brave man. A man who loved his family. Loved Atlanna, loved you and Arianna. But he was a man ruled by dreams. Ruled by honor.”

“Dreams? Honor?” Rogan mused. “Should we throw in integrity and make him the most foolish man alive?” 

Lorena rested the iron pan on her hip and stood as straight as she could manage, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at her nephew. At the right angle, she was so much like his mother it hurt.

“It was those dreams and honor that ultimately brought him down, Rogan. He didn’t have the foresight to see that he was destroying everything he loved. His actions destroyed our family. I would not disregard his memory, but must I accept his fate for the rest of my family—
your
family? The only family we have left?”

Rogan summoned a deep breath and collected his emotions. Lorena had her opinions about his father and fighting with her wasn’t going to change anything. She had seen just as much terror as any of them had. He owed her that much credit, at least.

“Sorry,” Rogan set the milk down. “I’m just in a bad mood.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t stay out until all hours stirring up trouble at Rawdry’s —”

“Lorena,” Jasper snapped in a low grunt. “The kid is trying to apologize. Must you antagonize him even more?”

Lorena’s tight mouth loosened and she sighed. She turned and set the iron skillet into the sink and rested her palms on the counter.

“There are eggs and potatoes on the stove, Rogan. Get yourself a hearty breakfast before you go out.” She motioned toward the stove without looking at him.

“Hurry up and eat and get out to the vineyard,” Jasper said. “We’ve a full day today. I’m heading out. See you soon.”

Rogan piled eggs scrambled with sweet onions and thick fried potato wedges on his plate, poured a mug of black coffee and sat to scarf it down. Like an unexpected wave, Arianna came crashing into the kitchen. She was dressed in her drab navy blue school dress that was the uniform for all girls attending the Valley Secondary School. She had black tights on underneath and worn black leather boots that laced up to her knobby knees. Noting her dress hem seemed shorter than usual, Rogan was about to comment that she must have hit a growth spurt, until his keen eye caught the glint of a pin holding up a good two inches of fabric.
Very sly, little sister.

“Arianna, don’t run through the house. This isn’t a playground,” Lorena scorned. Rogan smirked.
Oh how that woman loves to scorn.
“Sit and eat your breakfast.” She poured Ari a glass of milk and set it down on the table.

“What’s all over your face?” Rogan asked, noting the dark smudged lines around her eyes. Arianna shot him a dirty glance as if he’d just blown her secret.

“Nothing.” She shrugged, looking down at her food to avoid eye contact.

“What is it?” Loren asked, walking over. “Ari, look at me.” Ari raised her head gingerly and met her aunt’s always disapproving glare. Lorena furrowed her brow when she saw the thick eye makeup.

“Arianna Elwood. What do you think you’re doing? Applying for a job as a street moll?”

“God, you are so dramatic! What’s the big deal?” Ari groaned. “It’s just charcoal.”

“Just charcoal?” Lorena grumbled. “Ari, you’re a little girl.”

Rogan nearly sputtered coffee from his nose as he watched his sister’s face redden with fury.

“I am not!” Ari protested. “I’m old enough to wear whatever I want. In two years I’ll be an adult and you won’t be able to tell me anything!”

“Well, in two years you can smudge whatever you want on your face, but until then you live in
my
house!”

“It’s not even your house! It was da’s house!” Arianna shouted. Lorena’s face wavered between hurt and rage. Rogan almost felt bad for her.

Jasper reappeared through the side door as if on cue and noted the raised voices and tight red faces.

“Already fighting?” Jasper grinned. Lorena pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

“Jasper, look at how Ari looks today,” she said matter-of-factly. Jasper glanced at his niece and nodded.

“You look beautiful Ari, as always. What’s the matter?”

Ari grinned with smug satisfaction and gave her aunt a superior look. Lorena fumed.

“She most certainly does not. Look at how she’s marked up her face with black paint.” Jasper reexamined his niece then registered the issue.

“Oh, I see. Yes, it is quite a dramatic look,” he nodded and tried to bite back a grin. “Perhaps tomorrow you should try a lighter hand. Might make your features a little softer.”

Arianna grinned at her uncle in appreciation.

“Jasper,” Lorena began through gritted teeth. Jasper walked to his wife and kissed her cheek.

“Aren’t we lucky to have such beautiful children? So very lucky. Now, c’mon, finish up your breakfast, Ari. I don’t want you late for school.” He patted Lorena’s backside, refilled his coffee thermos, and went back outside. Lorena grunted and threw up her arms before scurrying out of the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Rogan and Arianna both snickered.

“You are so lucky you’re not a girl,” Ari said shaking her head as she stabbed a potato with her fork. “It’s so unfair.” She shoveled the potato into her pouty mouth.

“I guess you do have it a little rougher sometimes. So much worry and so many more rules. But then again, I never tried to pin up my uniform and paint myself like a raccoon.” Rogan said. Ari scowled. “It’ll be over soon enough, little sister. Like you so gently pointed out, you’ll be out of school in two years. You can do and wear whatever you want then.”

“I can’t wait,” she sighed. “You have all the freedom in the world.” Rogan laughed to himself.
Sure
.
All the freedom in the world.

The icy evening had lingered into the morning, leaving the air crisp and cool in his lungs as Ari scampered off to school and Rogan trudged out to the vineyard a few hundred yards from the house. The sun was piercing through the western clouds as the early morning fog began to dissipate over the trees. Rainer and Tigg were gassing up the tractors and Alfie was helping load up the pruning gear, his skinny ten-year-old arms struggling with the oversized sacks. Toro jumped and barked, scampering after Alfie, wagging his tail eagerly.

“Mornin’ Rogan,” Rainer said in a gruff voice, clutching a steaming thermos. “Coffee’s in the pot. Alfie! Fetch Rogan a thermos.” Alfie nodded to his da, dropped off the sacks of gear and scrambled to fill up a steel thermos.

“Thanks Alfie,” Rogan said taking the steaming cup from the eager boy and scratching Toro’s head.

“’Welcome Rogan. Did, um, did Ari leave for school yet?” Alfie asked with blushing cheeks. Rogan grinned.

“She did. And why haven’t you?” Rogan asked. Alfie ran the toe of his scuffed boot through the dirt and shrugged. “Go on. If you hurry, maybe she’ll walk you to class.”

Alfie bit his lip but smiled.

“You heard ‘em boy, get on with yourself,” Rainer said. 

“Did the frost do any damage?” Rogan asked, walking over to the tractor. Tigg hopped down and snatched up his own thermos from the wheel cover. He wiped his hands on his already grease-stained coveralls, and then tied his shaggy gray hair back in a ponytail. He had been a hand at Elwood Farms since even Theron was a boy, but Rogan couldn’t remember him without a scruffy gray beard.

“I dun’ think,” Tigg replied in a thick northern brogue only the old timers seemed to have any more. “It dropped to nary five Cs last night but the air was damp enough. These is thick vines.” Tigg glanced around at the surrounding vineyards with thick green stems fighting through the cold.

“What we need to be mindful of, Boss, is them blocks in the far lot,” Rainer chimed in. “If we get a frost streak, we might lose ‘em.”

“All right,” Rogan nodded. “We’ll watch them.”
Boss.
He still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t feel like the boss and these men certainly had more experience in the vines, but he knew the others looked to him for decisions. The vineyard was, after all, the small legacy his father had left him. He had learned what he was doing more or less, but his capability was nothing compared to the sheer talent his father had. Even through the droughts and sharp frosts, by some miracle, Theron kept the fruit coming each summer. When he returned from the war and found the vineyard on its deathbed, Theron had nursed the vines and coaxed the plump berries to return. And the perfect nectar he made from them was renowned throughout every Arelanda county. Rogan would have loved to learn from his father, working side by side in the Elwood vineyard, eventually opening a tasting room on the docks. He sighed at the thought, knowing that even if his father was still alive, there would be no one to taste their wine at the docks but drunken rangers and coast guardsmen. The rest of the world had abandoned them.

The state of the vineyard was in all their hands now and they had to do it together. Jasper had done a fine job of managing things since Theron and Uncle Colt were both gone. He’d even sold his own house so he could move in and keep the vineyard alive until Rogan was old enough to take over. Rogan could hardly blame him that the land was underwater and one short harvest away from foreclosure. Jasper was a good businessman and managed the growing side well, but wine making was never his true calling. Besides, no one was buying Pear Valley wine but local pubs and they paid a fraction of what they once earned from shipping it out to the other counties, not to mention internationally. With the embargos in the east, the crime firms
on the northern border and bootleggers guarding the door to the South, international shipping had all but ceased. Only those with muscle in the right places managed to keep the lines open, and the Elwoods had always been short on muscle and high on integrity.

Being located just outside of the capital had its economic advantages. The King and Council and their households looked first to local vendors for their necessities to cut down on costly and timely transportation of outer county commodities—not to mention that Pear Valley was the most fruitful wine growing region in the country. But their location also kept them close to the center of unrest. Here on the outskirts of Arelanda City, they were bound to the fate of the capital.