Page 141 of Burned & Bound

West

West,

A first apartment is a big deal. It’s more than reasonable to be nervous about it. Everyone goes through it. When my mom decided to move out and signed the house over to me, I didn’t know what to do with it. I hadn’t lived alone either, and that house was big for one person. The first night, I ended up calling Mickey and made him come keep me company. I didn’t say that, but I’m sure he knew.

It’s going to take time, but you’ve got it.

I’m including the first thing you can put in your apartment: a picture of pregnant Daisy. I’m in fucking trouble. There’s no reason for any cow to be this damn adorable. I may be a little pissed about Ferdinand knocking up my girl, but damn she’s extra cute right now.

I now have a bull and a cow in my yard. She’s extra clingy so I moved her here with me. I’m going to end up with a calf living there too. I’m going to need a bigger yard. Hopefully, Ferdinand stays on all fours and I don’t end up with more babies from him in the future.

Jackson

Jackson,

Do you know how much shit you need to fill a fucking apartment? A one bedroom, small as fuck apartment? Why is it so much? I don’t know where to begin.

I did hang up Daisy’s picture. It’s the only thing here that’s really mine. The rental company included some basic furniture and stuff—a bed, a couch, a table, pots and pans. That sort of stuff.

I don’t know where to begin with everything else. It’s too much. I don’t even have sheets. But how do you pick the right sheets and blankets? I just… it’s a lot.

The woman who lives across the hall brought over a giant gift basket to welcome me. Do people really do that? It has all sorts of snacks and shit. I made her take back the champagne, but I think I upset her. Maybe I should’ve told her I’m an alcoholic instead of telling her I didn’t want it.

I’m not good at this people thing.

And it’s really quiet here, Jackson. I don’t know what to do with the quiet. I’ve been drawing to fill the time, but I can only draw so much. I don’t know how to fill my time.

West

West,

You draw? I didn’t know that about you. Maybe one day you can show me some of your drawings.

I’m sending you the pictures I should’ve sent first—of Thunder Jack, Bailey, and Blind Betty. Those belong with you. I’m not real good at photography, but I tried to get some good ones for you. Hopefully, they work.

I’m proud of you, West. I know it’s hard right now and I know it’s stressful, but you’re doing it. That’s a big thing. An incredible thing. You should be fucking proud of yourself.

I took my first steps today. The pain is fucking awful and my whole leg feels like shit, but I did it with some help. That’s my big thing.

It’s only uphill from here for both of us.

Jackson

Jackson,

I’m sorryit’s been a while. I relapsed and I’m back at the clinic for now. I don’t think I can do this.

West

Keep going, baby. You can do this.

Jackson

West,

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. I hope it’s okay that I’m sending this, and hopefully the clinic gives it to you. I managed to drag myself out to the stables and drove Peter nuts as I dug around for these. And whoever thought letting a crippled guy handle a metal drill was okay was an idiot, even if I am their boss. I damn near took off a finger. I didn’t but almost.

The horseshoe is from Thunder Jack—it’s one of the horseshoes you took off him when he finally let you. The twine making up the string I hung it on is woven from a few of Betty and Bailey’s tail hairs.

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