My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter Fifteen

It was dark out, but I didn't care as I plunged across the yard. The conflict in my family was too much for me to handle. What was so wrong about standing up for myself? Why was I not allowed to express an opinion in my own family?

School had taught me that I had worth, that I had importance as a person. Since rejoining my father and brother, though, I'd been forced to question that belief. I'd done few things right, and it had taken so long to reconnect with Simon that I'd begun to believe that I had no family I could rely on.

With tears blurring my vision, I stumbled my way through the dark. By memory, I made it to the corral. The horses shied as I collapsed against the fence. I took several deep breaths to calm myself.

I never would have thought I was one to run from my problems, but I seemed to be doing it quite a bit since coming to Montana. Though, I suppose hiding from Uncle Richard had been a form of running.

Had I been running all my life?

Well, I wasn't going to keep doing it. With the back of my hand, I rubbed at my eyes as I watched the horses pace in the corral. Tired. That's what I was: tired of always fighting to be treated as equal, as someone who was intelligent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and I swung that way. Though his face was shadowed, I recognized my brother. He leaned against the fence, his arms folded on the top rail.

Matters must not have improved after I left.

Maybe he said something, but I couldn't see well enough to be sure.

The night grew darker and darker the longer we stood there. It was nice to know that he had no desire to go back inside as much as I. Every time I glanced back, the windows remained aglow with light, so someone was still awake.

It was impossible to tell just how long I watched the horses pace the corral. I shivered as the night air continued to cool and I straightened up. There would be chores in the morning. Sulking outside in the dark and cold all night would only leave me tired, and in the end, what good would that do?

Reaching out, I put my hand on Simon's shoulder and squeezed gently to get his attention. When he glanced at me, I jerked my head towards the house. He shook his head. Hoping he would come inside later, I turned and walked back to the house.

Only Father was in view when I stepped inside. He had his account book open, and he lifted his head as I closed the door. There were lines on his face that I hadn't noticed. I suppose worrying over whether your family was getting along would get stressful and leave it's mark after a short time.

"Where is Simon?" was all he asked.

Since I didn't know whether my brother had moved from the corral or not, I gestured towards the outside in as vague a manner as I could. Father's frown deepened and he shook his head. Without another word, he returned his focus to his figures. He brought his hand up to rub the side of his head.

Feeling dismissed, I went to the ladder and climbed up to the attic. Both of my stepsisters were awake and I could see them whispering to each other as I went to my bed. I began to undress and the candle on their side of the space went out, plunging the attic space into darkness.

I should have guessed.

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Simon didn't come to breakfast in the morning. In fact, Anna didn't even set a place for him. How would she have known he wasn't coming? Had my brother said something? Never before had I felt I missed too much because of being deaf.

Father saddled his horse and then rode to town alone. Would Simon meet him in town to work in the general store, or would Father have to handle everything on his own?