The Lost and Found (5 page)

Crimson had come downstairs the morning after they arrived looking lost, frightened, and ready to crumble. All eyes had turned toward her, making her uncomfortable. Josiah had watched as she’d hesitated on the threshold, uncertain, until Ethan had caught her eye and indicated the coffee pot. Josiah studied her as she carefully moved around the table, then past him. He’d willed her to look at him, but she’d kept her eyes glued to the floor.

Then she’d needed the mug for her coffee and hadn’t known where to look for one. Josiah came to her rescue, handing her one before her discomfort increased. He’d seen the slight slump in her shoulders as the silence in the room behind her had lengthened, seen the relief and the lessening of the tension as the boys quickly, noisily filed out of the room. He’d followed them to make sure they all got to the bus. By the time he returned to the kitchen she’d escaped back to her room.

Crimson’s eyes bothered him. The pale brown color was as beautiful as always, but now they were haunted – pain lurking in their depths — the warmth was completely gone. Shadows stained the skin beneath them, indicating stress and a lack of sleep. Billy told him she hadn’t responded to any of his efforts to reach out to her. Billy had also told him about Crimson’s past, her mother’s past.

Josiah could see it in her eyes — Crimson felt like she was dead inside. She wanted to be dead inside, to just escape the pain. But, Josiah knew from experience that she couldn’t deny the pain and still welcome life. She had to take both together, face both together. He decided to give her one more day. If she hadn’t come downstairs by tomorrow morning he was going up after her.

Josiah stood at the back door, staring through the screen, in the direction of the pond. He’d been standing there for over three hours. Crimson was still on the ground; she hadn’t moved from where she’d dropped earlier. He’d second-guessed himself about every ten minutes. Torn between his desire to comfort and protect her, and knowing she needed to make this decision on her own — he couldn’t make it for her.

Josiah had been standing here, forcing himself to stay put, forcing himself to let her fight this battle, but all the while he was mentally willing Crimson to get up. Willing her to be strong. He’d almost lost his resolve when he got to her room this morning. Almost. He’d seen her pain, seen how filled with anger and anguish she was. But he’d seen something else, too. A spark, a flare. Crimson had attempted to stand up to him. There weren’t many people, even grown men, tough men, who’d have had the guts to do that. It was that spark, that fire, which moved him, made him solidify his intentions and see them through.

Several times Billy had come into the kitchen, opened his mouth to speak only to close it again, sigh, and shake his head then walk back out. Ethan, Josiah knew, was seated behind him at the table, waiting to see what would happen. Josiah knew he was walking on thin ice with Billy, but so far the old man hadn’t snapped. So far he was willing to let him be, was willing to wait and see what would happen.

There was movement by the pond. Josiah straightened then narrowed his gaze. He watched as Crimson got to her feet. She faced the pond for a moment or two, and Josiah tensed, ready to spring into action. When she turned and began walking toward the house, Josiah let out a relieved breath he hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding. He watched her a couple more seconds then turned around. Ethan caught his eye and Josiah nodded. Then, not wanting her to know he’d been watching her, Josiah headed out the front and made his way to the barn. Crimson had chosen to fight — she’d chosen life.

Crimson Sage

WE WORKED FOR THE
rest of the day, unloading the hay trailer and restacking the hay in the barn, feeding the animals. When we heard the sound of voices, the older boys coming home from school, he called a stop to the work. “We’ll call it a day now.”

Josiah held the barn door and waited for me to finish with the bale I’d been stacking. I hadn’t realized I was breathing heavily, but in the silence, in my awareness, I heard my breath coming in sharp bursts. My muscles were in a state of fatigue, I felt like a limp noodle. Dusting off my clothes, which was a useless endeavor considering how wet they were with perspiration, I walked past him, not saying a word.

I didn’t stop until I was in my room. My bed sat there, tempting me to just lie down. Instead I ignored it long enough to grab a change of clothes and a shower. After I was clean again I collapsed on top of my bed and was asleep before I knew it. For the first time in weeks I slept without dreams, without nightmares. And I hadn’t needed the Vodka to accomplish it.

The next morning found me up early, before the sun. I beat everyone, except Sally, to the kitchen. The coffee was ready though, and for that I was grateful. I grabbed a cup and mumbled a good morning. She had banana muffins coming out of the oven, so I snagged one of those as well, thanked her for it, and quickly left before anyone else arrived.

I was already waiting at the barn when Josiah walked in. If I was going to succeed in my attempt to live, I needed to stay busy. The other boys eyed me speculatively as they began filtering into the barn. I ignored them all. I waited for instruction from Josiah. He never made any comment other than to tell me I’d be working with him that day.

We mucked stalls. It was dirty, stinky work. Exhausting. But, it felt good.
I
felt good. Lingering anger was exorcized from my system with the physical labor I put myself through. Josiah made one small comment to me as I was spreading fresh straw in the last stall. He stood there and watched me quietly then said, “Get rid of that liquor. You don’t need it, and it’s not allowed here on the ranch.”

I wondered how he knew I had it and opened my mouth to ask, but he stepped close to me, leaned closer still, and took a slow, deep breath. “I smelled it on you yesterday,” his voice rumbled in my ear. “And I know what to look for. Just get rid of it. Tonight.” His tone brooked no argument.

I hated to give it up. Yeah, the physical labor seemed to be helping me, but what if it stopped? What if I needed it again? Eventually the exhaustion would wear off; I knew I wouldn’t survive without the numbness. I stared at Josiah, trying to determine just how serious he was, if I thought he’d force my compliance. After a minute or two I decided it wasn’t worth the argument and nodded in silent agreement.

Josiah’s blue eyes sparked and his lips lifted, causing flutters in my stomach. Quickly I turned away before he could notice. I finished up the stall and told him I was heading in. I decided what Josiah didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Fine, I’d stay away from the drink, but I’d keep it just in case.

I finally met Bentley; unfortunately I smelled like a dirty stall. I was just coming back from the barn; he was stepping out of an older Jeep Wrangler. He looked how I’d imagined someone named Bentley might look — mid to late forties, receding hairline, glasses. He was dressed in tan chinos, a blue button-up shirt, and a brown and blue striped sweater vest. Sort of like an older GQ nerd.

“You must be Sage.” His voice and manner were friendly. “I’m one of your granddad’s partners, and… I knew your mom. Sorry to hear what happened.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook his offered hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m a little dirty and in need of a shower. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

I quickly made it past him and breathed a sigh of relief when he made no move to stop me. It made me uncomfortable to talk about my mom with people I didn’t know, people who had known her.

I went to bed early, feeling exhausted from the day’s labors, and was surprised when I woke up in the morning to realize I’d slept the whole night through without nightmares. Having met Bentley, and his mention of Mom, I thought the dreams were certain to return — maybe all the hard work was starting to pay off.

I beat Josiah to the barn again that morning and waited for him to give me instructions for the day.

He pointed out several tools — a bucket of nails, another with a hammer, a claw-looking thing, something that looked like giant nail clippers, some wire ties, and various other items, and told me to load them in the beat up Chevy parked in front of the barn. I did as I was told. While I loaded those he grabbed a couple large spools of wire, several metal posts, and a couple pairs of gloves. I climbed into the cab on the passenger side and closed the door. A minute later he opened the door, told me to slide over.

To the driver’s seat.

“This is a stick,” I said.

“It is,” he agreed.

“I can’t drive a stick.”

“Not yet. You’ll learn.”

“I… I don’t know how.”

“Scoot. You’re learning how today. Right now.” Josiah unlatched the seatbelt and gave me a gentle push in the direction of the steering wheel. My heart was in my throat as I felt his hand on my thigh, dangerously close to my butt, as he pushed me over. I maneuvered around the stick and tried to get my heart settled.

“That pedal to the far left is your clutch. You’ll use your left foot to work that one. Your right foot will handle the others like normal. Push the clutch in, hold it down, keep it down and turn the key until the engine starts.”

With a trembling hand I did what he said. The truck roared to life and I released the key.

“Good,” he said as he closed his door. “Now keep that clutch down and use your right hand to move the gearshift into first — that’s the top left position.”

Again, I did what he said, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. I was sure he could hear it.

“Now, what you’ll do is take your foot off the brake. Gently give it some gas, let your engine rev a bit, keep it revved and slowly release the clutch, feeling it as it grips the gear and moves us forward.”

I swallowed and tried to convince myself to do as I was told. Josiah waited a moment or two and then nudged my shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I took a deep breath, nodded, and walked myself through his instructions in my head then followed through. The truck lurched forward then died. I felt embarrassment flare and blew my breath out in a rush. Josiah was patient.

“You released the clutch a little too fast. Slower next time. Now go ahead and restart it.”

I went through the motions again, and this time the engine caught and we ambled forward slowly. Josiah pointed to the worn track that led behind the barn toward the back of the property. He told me how to shift into second and when I’d hit third and we were moving along at a nice even pace he said, “Crimson?”

“Yeah?” I breathed, focusing on the dirt road in front of us.

“You’re driving a stick.” I heard the gentle smugness in his voice and felt my lip lift in acknowledgement.

That day we repaired the fence. We re-stretched the barbwire, re-nailed several sagging areas, repaired some broken beams, cleared brush that had become tangled in the wire, and picked up trash that had blown into the fence.

By the time we returned to the ranch house the other boys were there. Several loitered around the barn, watching us, watching me. One in particular made an attempt to get my attention. He was big, like a football player. His dark blond hair was cut short, almost military style. He had dark grey eyes that gleamed with interest. I blushed at the look he was giving me and tried to act as though I was unaffected by his attentions.

The blond boy made his way to me, looking me over as he approached, while I helped Josiah unload the truck.

I was lifting a bucket from the bed when a voice said, “I got it.”

I looked at him, noting he was not as tall as Josiah. Not as rugged. Not as untamed.

“Thanks,” I said as I let him take it from me.

“I’m Rob,” he grinned, heat sparking again in his eyes.

“Sage,” I replied as I reached for more gear.

Josiah returned then, and stepped between Rob and me; he said, “We got this, Rob.”

Rob shrugged his stiff shoulders trying to act careless. “All right. Suit yourself. See you around, Sage.”

Josiah watched as Rob walked off; his jaw was tight with tension. He grumbled something under his breath before turning back to me. “You did good today.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

That was how it started. Josiah assigned my duties according to whatever he was doing. Anything from fixing fences, to shoeing horses, to bucking hay, to painting, to pulling weeds, to cleaning out irrigation canals. He never offered me an explanation as to why he kept me with him, and I didn’t ask. I assumed it was so he could make sure I didn’t shirk my duties or regress back into my numb and depressed state.