"You
were supposed to be back nearly an hour ago, boy. What could possibly
have held you up so long?"
Carter
shrunk away from Bazzoli as his employer towered over him. Carter
wasn't actually that small and he was definitely not frail, but
Bazzoli still loomed over him with enough mass that he might be able
to lift a horse if he wanted. Carter didn't know and didn't want to.
The absence of knowledge was, many times, a friend to him.
"Um,"
Carter said, picking at the straw the basket was woven from that was
still attached to Reese's saddle. Reese snuffed into his hair and
Carter flinched. "The-the um, there were a-a lot of people,
and-and, um. I-I got delayed by, um, by them."
Bazzoli's
temple bent into a scowl, but he leaned away from Carter so he was no
longer breathing in his face. His breath was hot and always smelled
like meat and it was one of the things Bazzoli knew made Carter
squirm.
"Why
do I pay you if you can't even do one simple job?" he growled,
crossing his arms over his chest in such a fast motion that Carter
flinched, his heart skipping beats in his chest.
"I'm,
um, I'm sorry," Carter said, but it came out as a whisper and he
bowed his head, trying to tuck his neck into his shoulders.
The
scowl of Bazzoli's face deepened and he growled. "Stop that
pathetic 'um!' noise, boy! It makes you sound no more educated than
one of Mr. Wilson's swines!" he snapped, shaking his head
rapidly.
Although
he said it with a commanding, harsh tone, they both knew it was just
a part of a song and dance. Bazzoli told Carter at least daily to
stop saying 'um' all the time, and at least half the time, Carter
replied by saying 'um'. It was a cycle that had gone on since Carter
was young, and it wasn't likely to end anytime soon.
When
Carter didn't move, his heart beating wildly in his chest like a
caged animal, Bazzoli harrumphed. "I don't pay you to sit around
on your pretty behind all day boy. You have the stock to tend to!"
Bazzoli turned away from Carter. "We're hoping to have some
buyers in the coming days. Don't you dare disappoint me, or I'll have
you skinned for the market."
The
sound of the barn door slamming shut made Carter stumble backwards
into Reese, who shifted her weight to lean into him. Carter caught
himself on her saddle, his breathing faster then he wanted it to be.
Even
though Bazzoli made such threats all the time, it didn't mean
Carter's heart didn't palpitate any less than it ever did.
Reese
nickered at him and craned her neck towards him. Carter steadied
himself on his feet and she leaned over to snuff his hair. He turned
to give her a half-hearted scolding look, but she just let out a long
breath into his face.
He
took a deep breath, not that it helped when he reached up to detach
the basket from Reese's saddle and his hands were shaking like
leaves. He flushed, heat creeping up the back of his neck and
spreading up towards his cheeks, before setting the basket aside
after getting it loose from the saddle.
Once
the basket was set aside, he pulled out a saddle rack that had been
sitting nearby and starting undoing Reese's girth.
After
Reese was taken care of and returned to her respective stall, the
horses' feed was put away, and Carter put away his tack, he snuck out
of the barn. The sky was growing a waning grey, and he could no
longer see any clouds in the sky. The sun gleamed dully in the sky,
still hanging high in the sky, though it was several hours now past
noon.
He
left the light in the barn on, not planning a long excursion. Carter
followed along a small cobble path that lead straight into a thicket
of trees. Tiny lights littered the side of the path like fireflies,
and though none of them were on right now, they always filled Carter
with a sense of serenity.
Even
though Shiloh wasn't going to be back to the property until sundown,
the earliest she even got home, Carter still wanted to drop into
their little cottage that Bazzoli let them stay in before he got back
to his chores.
The
path through the stretch of forest that clung tightly around him was
a dark contrast to the sunlight outside of them, but Carter didn't
mind. He preferred the comforting darkness and, in a way, liked the
uncertainty of it. Better than the uncertainty of people anyway.
A
gentle breeze drifted through the forest, ruffling Carter's hair. Not
that it wasn't already a mess, but he did appreciate the cool draft.
The afternoon and the market had left him feeling sticky and
uncomfortable, and he couldn't bathe until after chores were done
lest he want to nullify the point of cleaning himself.
Ahead
about thirty yards, Carter glanced up to see as the trees gently
split to give way to the opening and, past that, the small cottage
Bazzoli let Shiloh and Carter live in. A wave of ease washed over
Carter that had evaded him at the market, even when talking to
Whisper.
He
knew it was dumb to let himself believe that the cottage was
unquestionably safe because the security was non-existent - Carter
was almost positive both the stables and Bazzoli's tool shed had more
locks or defences than the cottage - but it was the lack of people to
disturb him.
Birds
sang around him, even as he started to come out of the woods, and
flew around overhead. He glanced up, still on the worn cobbled path,
to see two blue jays fly overhead into the thicker part of the forest.
He
smiled despite himself, turning back to the cottage and letting his
shoulders sink into an eased position. The cottage was built from
stone, sturdy if not cold, and had one window Carter could see on the
entryway side. He knew it was overlooking the kitchen and living
space, and it let in beams of sunlight throughout the day.
Outside,
around the steps leading up to the front door - a worn, wooden thing
that creaked any time anyone shifted it - was a small garden that was
partially wilted. That had been Shiloh's idea. A sort of
spur-of-the-moment gesture that Carter had never been and would never
be capable of achieving.
She
loved to sink her fingers into new ideas whenever they rolled around,
and Carter, for the most part, simply went along with it. But because
of her new job working with the caravans that were running to and
from the crossroads a few miles out of Midvale, Shiloh hadn't been
able to keep up with her green thumb the way she had hoped.
Carter
sucked in a deep breath through his nose as he climbed the few stairs
to the front door and unlatched a rusting lock before letting the
door swing open.
He
took a step inside and shut it behind him, light from the pale
evening sun still wafting it through that window towards the front.
It cast white beams into the living room where they had a secondhand,
floral patterned and fading blue sofa. The rug was practically
patchwork at this point, and something Shiloh had tried to fix
several times without success.
"One
day, we're going to live in a grand house, and you're going to have
room to have your horses. We're going to make it, Carter. We'll
figure it out."
Shiloh had told him once over dinner, her dark eyes glittering as she
grinned. "Maybe
we'll even live here one day."
He
had unhelpfully pointed out that they already did live here,
even though he knew Shiloh meant Bazzoli's nicer, larger, and
significantly safer house.
Despite
the heat outside, the cottage was pleasantly cool when Carter dragged
himself in. He knew it wouldn't do him any good to sit down right
now, not when he'd just have to go back outside again and start
working. When it would just make him more tired than he already was.
A
small flash of some pale resting on the tiny, rickety kitchen table
that Carter and Shiloh shared their meals at together caught his
eyes. Carter paused and stared at the table before he realised it was
a slip of parchment. He blinked and glanced around as if the answer
to what it was doing there might crawl out of one of the walls.
Nothing.
His
heart crept into his throat and Carter drummed against his thigh
nervously. Had that paper been there this morning? Surely it hadn't,
he definitely would have noticed it. But he could also miss things
sometimes.
Who
could have left a note there? It couldn't be Shiloh, she would still
be at work. Bazzoli? What if someone had broke in and stolen their
stuff? Oh God, then Shiloh and him wouldn't have anything
and
Bazzoli would get mad and they'd be forced to live like this forever-
Carter
didn't realise how hard he was breathing until he noticed black fuzz
covering his vision and he had to carefully lower himself onto the
ground as he grew light-headed.
The
sensation of falling crashed into him like a tidal wave and his
stomach dropped. Thankfully, the fuzz around his vision cleared, but
that didn't mean his breathing steadied out.
In
his mind, Carter knew
it
was stupid to freak out over just the sight of a little piece of
paper, but it didn't reach all the corners of his brain.
You're
never going to know whether it's worth losing your mind about if you
don't read it,
Carter offered to the part of his brain that insisted on panic
despite the logic against it at hand.
He
drummed his fingers against his leg in a suspended moment between
getting up and sitting there, but he managed to collect himself
enough to stand up and scramble over to the table.
The
handwriting on the letter was flowing and beautiful, written in large
letters to make the cursive clear. But it didn't matter how big it
was, it would have been clear anyway. Carter knew that handwriting
any day, it was the same lilt he saw every time he practised his own.
Carter
still read the lovely Shiloh
over several times before he frowned down at it. His heart clenched
in his chest and he flipped the note over in his hands. Why had
Shiloh come back during work hours just for this?
He
started unfolding the parchment with quivering hands. He leaned onto
the table in an attempt to steady them to no success. Carter let out
a deep breath as he finished unfolding the note.
C,
To
all the things I never told you and for all the things I meant to.
I'm
sorry.
He
reread the note several times before he had to sit down at one of the
chairs. It gave a great squeaking noise as his weight came down on
it, but Carter couldn't bring himself to worry about the chair giving
out on him right now.
The
note wasn't in cursive, and it's scrawled out almost illegibly.
Shiloh had a terrible habit of blending her words when she was
writing too fast and Carter doubted this was an exception. She must
have been in a rush while she was writing.
But
what did it mean? Why C?
What did Shiloh mean, everything she had never told him? What hadn't
she told him?
His
stomach gaped open into a pit and the sensation of falling returns as
Carter leaned back in the chair, still staring dumbstruck at the
note. Nausea crawled into his throat like a worm wriggling through an
apple.
There
was no reason for Shiloh to have written such a vague note. She knew
how much Carter hated when things weren't explained to him. He could
never work out what to do in his mind when it involved anyone else
and it ended with Carter spiralling downwards because he could never
not
overthink things.
Carter
set the note down, swallowing back a lump in his throat, and turning
to the window. The note didn't have to mean anything. He'd just ask
her about it later. There had to be a good explanation for it.
The
thought of Shiloh giving him a reassuring smile later and ruffling
his hair for worrying over nothing brought him a little more comfort.
He'd just have to survive the wait until she got back.
He
tapped against the table. Villa, one of their mares, needed exercise.
She was full of energy, and she'd be enough of a handful to keep his
mind occupied for a while.
Yes.
Villa could keep him distracted for a while. He could worry about his
sister and vague notes when his head was clearer.
word count: 2,174
I'm going to start right into this. 
Points: 27136
Reviews: 452
Donate