Written by: Julie Dieck
Chapter 2: The Question
Long shadows stretched eastward as the sun began its descent behind the horizon. Two young men stood staring at the fresh grave before them near the smoking ruins of what used to be home.
Alan stood as though made of stone, clutching his hat over his chest, eyes staring at the grave as though he could see the man who lie beneath the mound of dirt. Dull eyes that gazed on and on, long before having been dried by the wind that blew bits of ash in small whirlwinds around his feet. The house and barn had since burned themselves out, now only heaps of smoking rubble and burnt boards.
Beside him, Daniel stood with hat in hand. He snuck another glance at Alan. He hadn’t moved; hadn’t said a word since they’d finished filling in his father’s grave and placed the crude wooden cross at the head; a cross that had been made out of two bits of wood that hadn’t been too badly burned with the old man’s name carved in it. The blond-haired boy just stood there – staring. Daniel wished he could do something, even to just say that he understood how he felt; but he couldn’t. He’d been an orphan all his life and had never known the kindness and warmth of real parents; but that didn’t mean he wasn’t without grief. He’d lived here since he was a boy and had grown fondly attached to Mr. Branegan. He’d always been kind to him, almost treating him as though he were another son. But even so, Daniel knew he could never understand the depths to which Alan’s anguish ran.
Daniel felt callous staying silent. He thought he should say something. His mouth opened, but all that came out was a weak, “I’m sorry, Alan.”
He could’ve winced. It sounded pitiful compared to the mountain of pain and sorrow it was meant to console. But what else was there? What do you say to comfort such grief? He hoped that at least the tone had conveyed the sympathy he was desperately trying to give. When there was no reply, Daniel began to turn away; thinking that maybe he should leave his friend alone.
“Explain it ta’ me,” Alan’s voice broke the silence.
It caught him off-guard. It didn’t sound like his friend at all. The accented voice was pallid and strained, not at all like the hearty one he’d heard only that morning. Turning back, Daniel looked quizzically at him.
Alan continued to stare, his words coming slow, almost slurred as if painful to speak. “Just explain it ta’ me. Why? Why did it have ta’ happin’?”
Daniel made his way to Alan’s side. He shook his head. “I can’t answer that. I don’t think no one can.”
His friend’s voice went on mournfully. “Here I was in town, laughin’ and havin’ a merry time of meself; while all the while, this was happinin’. If only – if only I’d come straight home. I could’ve done somethin’.”
Daniel laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You don’t know that, Alan. For all we know, this could’ve happened right after we left.”
“But we don’t!” Alan snipped, pulling away from the touch. “That be the thing! I may have been able ta’ do somethin’! I may have been able ta’ save him!”
“And we may all have been killed too. I knew you’re father well, Alan. I got a feeling he was probably glad that you weren’t here. At least he knew that you were alive.”
Alan didn’t look up; still staring at the grave. His tone dropped almost to a whisper. “Maybe so. But I would rather he died with me fightin’ by his side.” His hat brim crushed beneath closing fists. “I didn’t even git ta’ say goodbye.”
Daniel lowered his head. He didn’t know what to say as a long silence elapsed.
Alan’s gaze finally tore away from the grave as he began to reshape his crushed hat. “Well,” he said a bit shakily, but in a way that seemed to say all business was finished here. “I know what I’m goin’ ta’ do.” Alan turned and looked his friend in the eye. “I be leavin’ here. I’m headin’ farther north.”
Daniel’s face went blank in shock. “Leave? But what about the ranch? You’ve always had high hopes for it and–”
“Look about ya’,” Alan interrupted. “There be nothin’ left of the ranch. There be nothin’ ta’ start over with. It’d take three times more then what I got right now just ta’ be getting’ it halfway back on its feet. It be finished, Daniel.” He placed his hat on his head. “And I be finished with it too.”
“I’ve just never known you to give up, Alan,” Daniel said quietly. A hand laid on his shoulder and he looked up to see a kind expression on his friend’s face.
“I not be givin’ up, Daniel,” Alan said gently. “Don’t ya’ ever believe that ah’ Branegan would give up on anythin’. But there also be a time when ya’ gotta ta’ know when ta’ quite. I can’t keep goin’ with this life anymore, so it be time ta’ start ah’ new one. With new goals.”
His eyes came up to meet the distant horizon. They held a resolve determination; and something else – a fire that Daniel didn’t exactly like. A fire that burned in more than his eyes, but deep within. Daniel could think of but one word for it – hate. Pure hate against the ones who had ripped his world apart, and a desire to make them pay for it. He followed as Alan marched to where the horses stood, watching him carefully.
Alan hoisted himself into the saddle as he said, “Ya’ can decide what ya’ want ta’ do. Ya’ can be stayin’ here or comin’ with me. Don’t matter. Whichever ya’ want.”
Daniel also mounted. “I’m your friend, Alan. I haven’t got anywhere else to go. I’m coming with you.”
Alan looked gratefully at him. “I was kinda’ hopin’ ya’d say that. T’wouldn’t be no fun without ya’ nohow.”
“But, where are you going?”
Alan sat up straight in the saddle, gripping the reins in a tight fist. “Ta’ do the only thing that’ll git me within shootin’ distance of them bloodthirsty heathen Indians! Daniel, me boy, I be joinin’ the Army!”
(Chapter 3 will be released next Saturday, November 25, 2023)
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