Miss Morgan

Thirty

January 1899
-John-

The sun rises over the ashes of our home the last few years. The old farmhouse was the most stability we had for years and now that it's gone, so are the plans to buy land here. Dutch says it must be a bad omen and now it just doesn't feel right. He's been talking about moving out to California and a few other places, but we keep working our way further in the opposite direction.

We pack up what little we managed to save from the fire and set up our new camp at the southern foot of the mountains. We're back to sleeping in tents, just as soon as the blizzard starts in.

I pull my hat down to try and cover my face from the wind, and pull my coat tighter around me to keep warm while Javier and Bill get the fire started. "You gonna help us out here, John?" Bill whines at me. "Or are you just gonna let the real men do all the work around here?"

"Worry about yourself, Bill." I grumble as Jack comes running over to me with another book.

I pick Jack up and take him back to Abigail. I can't be sitting around reading to the boy when there's work that needs to be done around camp. The boys all seem to pick me apart every chance they get if I get one moment away from work. It's been four years since I left the gang and three since I came back, yet they still can't seem to let it go.

"You're pathetic, you can't read one book to your son?" Abigail bitches at me.

"I got work to do, woman. I can't sit around readin' books when the gang needs me. We damn near lost everything we had in that fire and all you care about is gettin' someone to entertain your kid so you don't have to." I realize it's too harsh as it comes out of my mouth but Abigail whips her hand across my face to make sure the message is extra clear.

I get to work chopping firewood because it's the best chore in camp when I need to let off some steam. While I work, I hear Mac continuing to yell at Ivy for running back into the burning house for a few pictures. That bastard hasn't let up on her the entire ride here.

Those photographs are all Ivy and Arthur have left of their parents, and that dog they had, Copper. I remember Ivy carrying them around when we were young because she hardly remembers her parents. I understand why she went running into the fire to get them, even if it was stupid and dangerous.

I want to knock Mac's teeth out for yelling at her like that, but I know she can handle it herself. Any other woman would be in tears at his barrage of verbal abuse, but she ignores it until she's had enough then knocks him on his ass. Then he storms off and gets drunk.

I think it's their new routine, they fight until one of them runs off and then they get drunk and we can all fill in the blanks what happens when they're drunk.

Ivy is different with Mac. She's violent, vulgar, and bloodthirsty, and usually drunk. She shouldn't be with him. He brings out the worst in her, parts of her I didn't even know existed. There's darkness in her eyes and when she looks at you, it's like she's looking through you. The pair of them are unhinged.

I set down my axe to take a drink of my beer and a voice catches my attention.

"Hey, John."

"Hosea." I greet.

"What's goin' on?" He hands me another chunk of wood.

I set it down on a stump to cut it in half. "You think they'll ever let it go? Me leavin' and comin' back, I mean." I ask him.

"Those boys just like to have a reason to be angry, John. Dutch and I know you just wanna put it behind ya."

"I just think the past should stay in the past, ya know."