Kennedy Hoss of Musket

Chapter 10: Hey

When I come to, I feel very clean and painless. I can feel the slight tightness of a bandage wrapped around my torso, and the comfort of a white camisole and a red, blue, and white long-sleeved button up flannel shirt. The Finns have provided me with a simple pair of jeans and socks, which pleases me enough.

I've been left on a mattress set about three bales down in a hollowed space in the piles of hay bales which gives me the feeling like I'm very small and the hay is like sky scrapers. A fabric has been fastened around the side of each bale that facing the mattress, so to keep pieces of hay from falling and causing and uncomfortable night.

When I lift myself from the fresh place of freshly made bedding, I discover my back and shoulder to be a bit numb.

Carefully, I use the spaces carved in the bales as a ladder and climb out, anxious to look around. My mind draws a blank as to what happened. I don't remember seeing Crow or Mr. Finn come home, and I don't remember being put here in the hay loft.

It's a nice loft, separated into two sections. The sections are separated by a gap that looks down into the stalls below, with a thick raised board on the side opposite the stairs to the main level that acts as a bridge. I find myself to be on the second section, the smaller of the two, the side without the door. There's some sort of hay conveyor belt attached to the end of the smaller section that goes down to the main level. The bigger section has the majority of the hay along with some abandoned farming equipment and a rope pulley where round pigeons sleep.

In another hollowed out sleeping place next to my separated by a layer of bales, I spot Crow, slightly stretched out and fast asleep.

The smaller half of the loft serves as his bedroom, with a small beaten down dresser and a large white bowl of water placed on top. Next to it stands a dirty and scratched full length mirror. In the corner sits a ladder that has been made into a bookshelf. Beside the bookshelf is a tiny desk with a toy chest tucked underneath it. It's not much, but not more than what I have.

I make my way over to the mirror and remove my shirt and camisole to examine my bandage. It's a thick off-white one wrapped tightly from my armpits to the base of my ribs. I feel sort of squished.

As I finish pulling my clothes back on I see Crow's head groggily lift up from the hay in the reflection of the mirror.

"HEY," I say, putting emphasis on the greeting. "Hey hay," I say again, shaking some from my hair.

"Hi," he says sleepily. Crow climbs out of his bed and joins me by the mirror, rubbing his eyes. He wears a pair of cargo pants and a loose dark blue shirt that looks extra big on his skinny body.

"What happened?" I ask slowly.

Crow rubs his thumb on a smudge on the glass.

"You lost a lot of blood... my dad stopped it though. Did some sort of thing he does for the cows... cauterize or something... I don't know, I didn't really watch. But you were lucky you were out during it. Huge bruise on your stomach, this big," he holds his index fingers and thumbs apart in a sizable distance. I blink.

"Yes Crow, because I'd really like to know that."

Crow shrugs and picks up a flashlight from his desk and a book from his shelf. I take the hint and climb back into bed.

From between a gap in the hay on my left side, I can see the dim light of Crow's flashlight as his tired eyes run along the words of each page. I pull the covers up over my shoulder and plan what to say.

"Where were you?" I ask at last, "During the riot?"

There's a pause and his flashlight flickers. Maybe he's planning his words carefully, and maybe he has a reason.

"I didn't go," he says finally.

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't, okay?" He snaps, "I only showed up at the last few minutes because I heard screaming."

I bite my lip. His admitted decision not to go stung like a wasp in the chest. Maybe he had his reasons, but I wasn't going to ask for them. It felt as if he didn't go because he didn't believe in me.

I pull a straw from a tear in the fabric and slip it between my lips and chew, crying silently, completely ashamed of myself.