Tethered

Fourteen || Fireflies

"You're the most successful Derby Champion there has ever been," I remind him. "And if there was someone, who isn't Beau, who can represent the Ranch and win and save it-- Someone to fight for it--"

"Ruby, darlin," he sighs. "Even if that were true, you're not just fighting the other riders. You're fighting the Mayor, and all of the money that he and his cronies funnel into that Derby and this town. He wants this land, and he wouldn't let anyone who was fighting for this ranch win."

Beau and I breathe a deep sigh, exhausted at trying to claw away at the harsh lens Uncle Deacon is looking through. We have to tell him the truth. I nod, waiting for the explosion.

"Mr Taylor, sir," Beau treads carefully. "I'm not going to be riding in the Derby--"

"And I am glad to hear it," he nods.

"Because I am instead," I confess.

My body tenses, bracing itself for the kickback, the aftermath of what I expect to come. But nothing does, only a stunned silence which somehow makes the tension all the worse. He stares at me, hard, like he did when I was little. His face is the same as it was when I would draw on the walls when I was a kid or refuse to come inside, but all the angrier. I can sense him breathing slowly, letting the words seep in, the radio the only sound behind us from the kitchen.

Beau's jaw is set tight, and he hangs his head, looking between Uncle Deacon and me for any sign of life.

"I won't allow it," he says, wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, calmly.

"But--" I begin.

"I won't have you getting hurt, Ruby."

"But if you trained me," I plead. "If you teach me like you taught Beau."

"Even I can't teach her everything," Beau offers.

"I taught Beau everything I know and look what happened," Uncle Deacon's voice breaks a little as he speaks. "I won't have anything happen to you."

"It wasn't your fault, sir," Beau tells him, consolingly. "You know it wasn't."

"Your Mother would never forgive me," he states. "She sent you here--"

"Screw her," I throw back. "Screw what she thinks."

"Ruby," he scolds me, angrily, but I keep on.

"I mean it, you're the Derby champion, and she lost all rights to give a shit about my health and happiness when she--" I stop myself, my throat closing, unable to finish my words. It feels like the world is fading out.

"Ruby," Beau calls, bringing me back to reality. "Sir, she's right-- You're the hero of this town."

"That was a lifetime ago, Beau," he sighs. "I'm an old man now."

"This is the only way we can save the ranch sir, you know it, and I know it," he pleads, all of us in a deadlock.

"This is my home now too," I sigh, tears forming. "I want to do everything I can to keep it."

Uncle Deacon rises from his seat and gathers his plate, half-filled with food. I think all of us are filled on guilt and stress, the sight of the meal before us leaving us only with a sickly feeling in the pits of our stomachs.

"If you're going to do this," he tells us. "It seems I can't stop you... But I can't do it, Darlin', I can't stand by and watch."

With a quivering lip, I rise to match him, my stance strong and parallel to his.

"Can't, or won't?" Is my final push.

He says nothing, only loosens his eyes from mine and turns away. I don't wait to see where he goes. I leave out the back door, out to the echoes of crickets and the fields of fireflies, away from the house and Beau and my Uncle and, I hope, everything else too.

----

By the time my eyes are burned raw from tears, the night has turned colder than it has been for the past few weeks. There is a slight chill in the air, but as always, the fireflies light the fields and the sounds of the ranch play on around me. I sniffle and wipe the last of my makeup from my face, sitting on the fence halfway down the trail. A patch of wildflowers are trying to grow along the edge of the fence, bursting yellow and purple and crimson. I want to pick them and take them back to the house, but I know they'll only die after a few days, no matter how much I water them. Why take them from what makes them blossom? Why cut them before they have time to bloom? Part of me feels like a wildflower, picked and wilting in a glass.

I long for Virginia for the first time since I arrived here, the feeling of it uncomfortable and heavy in my chest. I long for the life I had before so much changed, a whirlwind that never seemed to end until I hopped off the bus to Laurel Valley. Maybe I'm the chaos. Maybe I am the mayhem and trouble, and I can't help but attract it.

I hear the door close up ahead, and I know that it must mean Beau is heading back to his place. He makes the nightly journey down this lane and back to the dim little light of a small house by the edge of a corner of the land. I see the small light some nights when I can't sleep, and wonder if he, like me, is awake too.

He is slow on his approach, and I try to retain a sense of dignity, although there is no way to pretend I haven't been crying. I half-turn to him as his boots crunch under the dirt, feigning a smile and a nod of goodnight.

"G'night, Miss," he nods, almost holding his breath.

"Goodnight, Beau," I nod.

He falters a little, hesitating almost, before he makes his mind up, silently, passing me and beginning the rest of his walk. My lungs exhale, and I gaze up to the house, all white and silence. There is an ache in my chest, to say something; but I don't have any of the right sentiments.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, sighing.

My bones feel heavy and worn, all hope fading from them, all energy dying like the light of the sun into the horizon. Beau turns, stopping in his tracks when my words reach him.

"What for?" He asks, tilting his head a little.

He walks back up a few paces, edging closer to me, as he leans against the fence. I look taller than him as I sit atop the wooden beam, and his eyes look up at mine for an answer. That softness returns seamlessly between us and I settle a little.

"I feel like I've ruined everything," I explain. "Like I've ruined any chance we had before I've even begun."

"Because of Mr Taylor?" He asks.

I nod, and his eyes move off, looking back up at the house straight ahead of him. He ponders for a moment, thinking of the right words. He speaks slowly.

"If I know him like I think I do," he tells me. "He'll come around. He wants to know that you're serious about this."

"I am," I confirm. "Deadly serious."

"Good," he smiles a little. "We start tomorrow."

He taps the beam with his hand and begins to move off, back on his original path back to his home, leaving me with a little firefly light coursing through me, an excitement again.

"Really?"

He nods, a little uncomfortable in his smile. With a jump down, I land past the wildflowers, careful not to harm them. With a nod and a smile, we make our way, in opposite directions.

"Don't expect me to be nice," he teases.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

----