The Sun in the West

Chapter 8

"I'm sorry.."

"You don't have to be sorry."

Kit looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise. "What?"

She refused to look at him, and instead stared directly at the wall across from her. Her jaw clenched. "If you didn't want to come see me I can't say anything about it. It was your decision." she said calmly.

Kit furrowed his brow. He tried to inch closer, but Stella was monitoring his every move, and he knew it would make her even more uncomfortable and all the more unwilling to have this conversation. "No, Stella.. of course I wanted to come meet you—" he tried, but was cut off with a scoff.

"—then why didn't you? Why couldn't you make the time to come meet me for the first time in five years? Instead it was Albert who did it for you. You were the one who sent me away.." she rubbed at the corner of her eye. "So it only made sense that you should've been the first face I saw when I came back. But no, Kit. You weren't there at the station even though you own the place! I'd think that someone who owns a railroad should be there when his wife arrives on a train for the first time in half a decade."

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry.." Kit sighed, and he paused for a moment. Stella took the time to angrily rub away any escaping tears. But her vigilant eyes were back in no time, and her mouth thinned into an unpleasant expression.

"Some.. things came up." Kit said warily.

"What things? What could be so important that you didn't come see me first?!"

She was now standing, her beautiful face flushed with anger. Kit looked up at her, mouth parted, as he tried to speak. Nothing came out, and Stella glared at him with hate before she turned and stormed off to the stairs. Without a single word she reached the top and shut the bedroom door so loud Kit had to wince.

All was silent in the house. With these big windows and the occasional bird tête-à-tête, he didn't think it could get so quiet. Kit let out an inaudible sigh, hanging his head. He grabbed at his hair with his hands, shutting his eyes tightly. He was so blessed to have the most wonderful woman ever as his own, and he had found one way or another to mess it up.

Love was not an ordinary thing. Kit didn't think he'd ever find it. It was odd really, how he had felt when he first realized it. He'd felt frustration with this new feeling, yet a tendency to get dreamy-eyed and having thoughts that diverted only to one person. A smile fell upon his face.

This was all before the incident. Even though Kit's love for her would never lessen, there was a time where Stella would've been more comfortable with him around. Now cold and stony-faced, he felt as if she had lost some of the love. Or course, it.. wasn't necessarily her fault. It had changed her. Both of them.

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—Eighteen years ago—
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"Stella! My darling, only for a little while!"

"Yes, father!"

A little girl, about nine years of age, ran along the borders of Ruby Point. She was off exploring with only happy thoughts in mind. This was her first time in the western part of the country, and she immediately took the chance to frolic about as she pleased while her father discussed business.

George Cones was in a co-owning production of the main railroad that expanded from Ruby point and outward to various other smaller towns, including the city that Stella and her family lived in. His business partner was none other than Calvin Alcone, a long time good friend. They owned the railroad together, both as companions and associates.

However, Stella had quickly grown bored of holding her father's hand while he spoke business. Instead, she would much rather explore the vast frontier.

She couldn't go so far, as she was only little, so George decided on just the horse pens.

Stella giggled along the way, skipping in the pale blue dress her mother had made her wear on the trip. Her shoes were pointed and made her feet ache, so she had kicked them off about twenty or so feet ago. The pens were just ahead, she thought with a bright smile. Oh, how she loved horses.

She reached the fence, squinting at the sun that shone onto her. The soft grass and dirt tickled her feet, dirtying them, but she hadn't a care about that. Her hair laid sleek down her back, tied partly with little white bows. It bothered her in the hot sun, so she swatted at it with frustration. She only stopped when a soft clip-clop of hooves was heard.

She froze, hands clutching the fence. A gorgeous gray horse was nearing. It had lighter patches on its stomach and legs, and what seemed to be soft ebony hair. It was such a pretty horse, and didn't stop Stella from jumping up on the wood of the fence in order to get a better look. The horse eyed her, snorting as it slowly stepped forward. Although its hooves beat the ground with caution, it's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"You're so beautiful." Stella said softly. She was now close enough to pet the horse, right on its nose. Warm breath fanned her hand, and she giggled. The horse didn't pull away, to her relief, and instead puffed against her skin. It was a happy puff.

"D'ya like him? His name's Jasper."

Stella gasped in surprise. She turned around to see a boy, about a year or two older, grinning at her. He was taller and was wearing a peculiar outfit made of leather, nothing at all like what Stella's elder brother wore. A hat resided among his unruly waves and his brown eyes shone in the sun's light. His smile was purely contagious, and Stella's instantly reappeared. "Yes! He's very lovely." she said shyly. The boy neared the fence, jumping on it to pet the horse's head. "He's mine. My pa brought him for me a month ago." he said with a bright smile. Stella pouted. "I wish my father let me have a horse."

The young boy frowned. "Well, why doesn't he?"

She sighed, placing her chin in her hand. "I live in the city. It's un-proper to have a horse except for carriages."

"Carriages?"

"I think it's a city thing. But that's besides the point." The young girl held out her hand with a soft smile. "I'm Stella."

The boy shook her hand with a grin. "Kit."

His hands were calloused for a child, Stella had thought with the first impression of them. Her own hands had never known any work, or labor, or much of anything physically draining. Her fingers had only felt the finest of fabrics, soft soap bars, and laced gloves. It was odd, really, how different he seemed from her. With his strange leather garb, dusty hair, lopsided smile (which was admittedly cute), old boots two sizes too big for him, and other frontier-ish aspects. Most of all, he made her shy. She hadn't had much contact with any boys other than her brother. And he seemed different. Different than all the snobbish, stuck-up boys back in the city.

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