Young Writers Society

Chapter 9 Part 2: I Don't Believe I Trust You Anymore

The morning came with a layer of dew and mugginess that made breathing feel like a chore. Clandestine released a loud yawn as she began to open her eyes, expecting the sting of the morning sun, only to come to the startling realization that there was none, because a book was on her face.

It took her a few drowsy seconds before she realized what the book was, and the moment she did, her heart rate spiked and she shot up, grabbing the journal and slamming it shut in her hands as she looked around their little campsite with panicked searching. The searching only lasted one glance, however, as the sun pierced her eyes and she saw Matt sitting just a few feet away from her, scowling.

She jumped again, this time scuttling back a few steps with her heels in the dirt. Oh gods. Matt was watching her, and there was no way for her to tell how long he had been watching. She looked down at the journal in her hands and then looked back up at his very unhappy expression, smiling nervously with her eyebrows drawn and raised.

"O-oh M-Matt, uh, hi! Yes! Wow, uh, you're up early! I meant to w-w-wake you, uhhhh, but! It looks like you're all good so!! Uh! How about w-w-w-we uh-"

"Hand over the book Clandestine."

Clandestine's smile fell and she stared at Matt with wide eyes, finding herself shrinking under his penetrating gaze. His dark blue eyes shot right through her, and for the first time in her travels with him, it hit her in her gut that she really, really didn't know him at all. She mustered up enough courage to break from her frozen fear and, in a stiff motion, threw the book over to him. He caught it, with his eyes still fixed on her, but they looked more serious and angry than she'd ever seen.

"How much did you read?" he asked cooly.

Clandestine smiled again, feeling sweat begin to form on her forehead. "Oh, well, you know," she said with her voice quivering slightly. "I-I'm not really m-much of a big reader-"

"How much. Did you. Read?" he asked again.

Clandestine was silent for a moment, and didn't dare meet his eyes. She twiddled with her fingers in her lap, feeling her face flush in the most panicked breed of embarrassment.

"I mean... I fell asleep, you know, so, I mean. I dunno... I maybe got halfway..." she mumbled.

Matt stood up. That caused her to raise her eyes again, and she watched as he turned around and walked over to his bag, put the book away, and untied Elliot from the tree. He started to pack up his things quickly, strapping Elliot back up with his saddle. Clandestine watched in quiet confusion until she realized that he wasn't just packing to put his book away - he was packing up to leave. In a burst of energy, she got up and hurried over. Matt mounted his horse without saying a word or looking at her at all.

"W-wait, what are you doing?" she asked weakly.

"I'm leaving."

Her heart sank in her chest. "Where are we going?" she asked.

He turned around. His eyes had lost the former sharpness of their gaze and he looked down at her with dead eyes.

"There is no more we, Clandestine. But I wish you well on your adventures," he replied in monotone, showing no emotion at all. Clandestine felt her skin crawl but took another step forward.

"W-wait. I'm sorry okay-"

His eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. He looked away again. "Sorry that you read it or sorry that I caught you?"

She dropped her gaze down to her feet, feeling guilt stick to her like a cold, wet blanket. "You don't have to... leave though, like, I don't get why-"

"Why I sound different in the book. Why nothing matches what I’ve told you. Why you have so many questions.”

She frowned, her eyebrows drawing together in frustration. He wasn't letting her finish any of her sentences, even if she wasn't sure how she was going to end them anyway.

"Yeah," she replied with more confidence, daring to look up at him. She might've read his journal, but she had a right to be upset too. "And why you've been lying to me."

He looked out into the forest, his face a wall of stone. "I'm not going to answer that."

Clandestine felt all of her frustration rise to the surface all at once at that answer. "Are you serious?" she spoke with her voice rising in volume and heat rose to her face. "After all we've been through? You're not going to be honest with me?"

"Clandestine," he said calmly. "I've known you for four weeks, not four years."

Clandestine's expression grew tighter. "But how much of this?" She gestured angrily to him with a sweeping motion and open arms. "Is a lie? Are you even a cowboy?" she shouted.

”Technically, I can only be a cowboy while I’m herding cattle.”

Clandestine's eyes grew wide and she wrenched her fingers into tense arches, still gesturing at him in frustration. "You know that's not what I mean!"

"You wouldn't have known anything for sure if you'd just kept to yourself," he retorted.

Clandestine scoffed, leaning back and shaking her head as she threw her arms up and let them flop at her sides. "Oh! So it's my fault you're a liar!"

"No. It's only your fault that you found out. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to-"

She stepped in front of Elliot to block his path, and this time, she was the one who interrupted him. "We're still lost in this forest, Matt. You can't just leave me here."

Matt lifted himself in his saddle ever so slightly so he could look at her over Elliot's head. He kept looking down at her with that same, obnoxiously blank face.

"While you were asleep with my journal on your face I heard people, and a carriage went by not too far from here." He pointed out into the forest, up ahead, away from the creek. "There's a path. Follow it."

Clandestine followed his finger, her heart sinking again. As soon as she started to look away, he moved Elliott forward.

“But-I just-” her words muddled together into a frustrated wordlessness and she fell into silence as she watched him ride away. She couldn't find anything else to say to convince him not to leave. She didn't know who he was, but he wasn't the cowboy she met in the bar or even the one she hung out with at Laura and Kaleb’s. He was someone else entirely, and nothing in that journal made sense to her without context. It was all so vague anyway. It was almost like he wrote expecting someone would snoop and read it.

Of course, she couldn't blame him, since she had, but she didn't understand why that meant he had to leave.

Why did everything end like this?

With a disheartened sigh, she looked behind her to Billy after Matt disappeared into the forest. At least Billy was still there.

She walked up to Billy, lifting a hand to pet the little white star between his eyes, then slid her hand up to brush through his short hair. He just blew through his lips, and she leaned forward, putting her head against his.

Why does it always end like this?

For whatever reason, she started crying.

She knew she shouldn’t cry over Matt. She really probably shouldn’t. But she was crying anyway. Billy nuzzled her gently with his snout, and she sniffled as her throat was forming knots.

"Oh, Billy,” she whispered, sniffing in an incoming snot tear. “I think I really screwed that up. Everything. I messed everything up.” She hugged Billy around his neck, rubbing her face into his fur. “I did something really stupid. This is why no one ever sticks around. This is why no one ever stays with me. Cause I ruin it. And it really is my fault, too. That's how it was with cowboy. And even Lynette couldn't stick around. Everybody just leaves. Everybody leaves..."

He'd come back, right?

Looking for her? Calling out her name in hopes that she would hear it?

The thought didn't help. It only made her cry harder, slouching over as she held Billy's neck loosely. For all she knew, Matt was a criminal, or just some... really bad person that manipulated people. Had she been tricked? Was all of it just some ploy to get something? Had he stolen her money while she was asleep? Was he some kind of kingdom spy undercover?

No, that was just silly. She knew Matt wasn't going to come back. The last memories she had of everybody in her life were all the same; seeing their backs as they walked away.

"We'll meet again, I swear. And the next time we do, I won't leave ya, I promise."

His final words before leaving her. He wrapped his jacket around her and hugged her, whispered to her he'd never break a promise, and then he left. Her friend. The closest thing she had to a father. Her cowboy. He was the one that taught her how to shoot, and helped her get her bearings in the world she woke up in.

She was quiet and timid. She never pushed him like she did Matt. She never asked questions about him. So much so, that she never even learned his name. She just kept calling him cowboy, and he seemed just fine with that, and so was she. After he left, she didn't see him again for many, many, years… and the thought of that made her burst into even more sobs.

The day she found him again, she had been in a small village in the north, in the borders of Lettera. She was working with them to take care of a small pack of wolves that had been hunting townsfolk that wandered too far out. She had gone to the church to talk to their priest about a reward. He was a kind and wise man, promised her food for the road, and a guide to the nearest city. Since they could now trade freely again without the wolves, they could travel the roads safely.

On her way out of the church she had seen it: a gravestone, with a very ornate stone cross. It stuck out from the rest, as something was lying on top of it. The village leader had noticed her gaze and explained to her who the grave belonged to. He said, "It was a mysterious man. No one knew him, but he ended up in our town asking about bandits and highwaymen." The priest explained that bandits had pretty much taken over the village at the time, demanding money from their trades and goods for the bandits to use to rob travelers. The mysterious man stood up against them but lost his life finishing off their leader. The priest suspected the man had prior dealings with this crew of bandits since he fought them with a deep-seated passion and a lack of remorse.

Once she had gotten close enough to the grave it dawned on her why it had stood out to her. There was a hat on the gravestone, and it wasn't just anyone’s; it was his. It was the hat of the man who had saved her life, and it was exactly how she remembered it, down to the last detail. The patches, the tarnished gold sheriff’s star on it, everything. Before breaking down into tears, she asked: "What was his name?" And she was told he asked to be referred to as "Cowboy."

She shook her head, trying to get the image out of her mind, but all she could think of was of Matt’s hat on that gravestone, and she couldn't bear the thought.