Desert Wake ✔

Ch. 6, pt. 1: The Life of the Dead and Dying

I guess that ain't the end of me, or this story would be a lot shorter.

When I come back, and that takes a mighty long time, Ro has cleaned up real good. I don't know where he put Orin, but the pieces of Orin that didn't stay attached to the rest of him are all wiped clear away, includin' the parts that Frank deposited all over Ro. Ro is right beside me, watchin' me with his clear blue eyes, like he knew I would choose this precise moment to open mine. 

 Judging from the sun, it's already midday. I've done slept a good fifteen hours. It takes me a second to realize more than just the time of day has changed. Ro must have found Granddad's raiser, cuz his scruffs all gone.

"You look different," I say and then think, I must surely too. My punched-in eye's still swollen shut most the way, and I must look a sight. I reach toward the bandage restin' on my right temple, but Ro's hand gits there first. He brushes it along my face, then grabs onto my fingers and presses them to his chest.

"I can't do this, May."

"Do what?" I try to sit up a bit, but it ain't easy.

"I can't." He squeezes my hand and lets go of it. "I can't leave here and be thinking of you all the time, wondering when the next asshole's going to come along and start an argument with you and Frank, or what's going to come of you when those goats stop producing. I can't do this, May. I've got my own problems. I can't care about you."

Well, that done set my kettle to boil, cuz I'm the one who took him in, fed him, sort of, and no worries about what regulations he might have broken or what crooked lawfolk he might lead my way, and I'm his problem? At the same time, he mentioned that he cain't care about me, which is basically a confession that he does care, so I keep my anger in check by usin' my words, use yer words, May, rather than my hand slapped right across his cheek.

"Fer yer information, I was gettin' by 'fore you came along and I'll do the same on my own after you leave. Till Granddad gits back, that is. Next up, I don't remember holdin' a sign out at the edge of the gulch beggin' fer lawbreakers to take up residence in my goat shed just in case trouble comes my way. And finally, as fer men comin' to harass me, Orin would never have come up here if it wasn't fer the fact that he was lookin' fer you!"

I force myself to sit up as best I cain, even though it makes the world take on a sideways sort of nature that feels most disconcertin'. "So if this is a contest about whose problems are givin' the other one the most grief, I say me and this beat-in head of mine win, hands down."

This shuts him up right quick. It's my turn to have me a starin' contest with mister blue eyes, and all bets should be on me as the winner, but he don't let go and he don't let go, and he brings his hand back up to my face, strokin' me where Orin did his damage. "This is my fault. Gods, May. I should have left after that first morning, bad leg or not."

"He still would've come lookin' fer you, lookin' fer trouble too, and you wouldn't have been here to prevent him from causin' some. He would've done a whole lot worse to me if you hadn't stopped him, and you know it."

His hand ceases it's back and forth movement across my brow, and he leans his forehead down till it brushes against mine. Only then do we call a draw to our starin' contest, it no longer bein' necessary.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry May. I've brought this to your doorstep, but I promise, I'll make it right."

And how you goin' to do that, huh Ro? That's what I wanna ask him. Kill all the lawfolk who come out lookin' fer you? Kill Orin's pa, cuz you know he'll be askin' after his son sooner rather than later. While yer at it, maybe you could find my Granddad, haul his ass back here, and then stop the dust from wakin', bring the cough to its knees, and make it rain, fill our bellies with nature's bounty. That would make it right. 

 That would make everything right.

Well, it ain't fair to lay all that on him, or maybe it is, but I'm feelin' charitable, so instead, I take in the scent of him, sage and goat milk soap, and then I ask, "Where should we bury the body?"

A/N: Need a bit of breathing space after the last chapter? Well here it is: May and Ro have spent the last 800 words hashing things out in a way that feels pretty darn calm compared to the events proceeding it. Killing Orin may have been necessary, but it will have consequences. What do you think will happen?

Thanks once again for your charitable vote donations. We're going to go ahead & continue gathering votes for May's Campaign Against Horrible People, possibly for the next several chapters. Every vote makes a difference so keep them coming!

Today's chapter is dedicated to werewolf author extraordinaire, @joflower. If you haven't read her book ZARA'S WOLF, I recommend it. But today I want to shine a light on her story, HEART OF STONE. This is an amazing, fun and witty werewolf romance that, after just two chapters, already has me hooked. It's a winner in my book! Check it out today!