"Yes," I said after a moment. "I'm familiar with that attitude. Although I’d rather they think the scalps beneath them and carry rocks instead. At least the dead keep their dignity that way."
Ambrose looked down at it. “Rock?"
"That...you don't think that's an actual arrowhead, do you?"
"That's what they called them. I don't know what those...people use."
"Well, unless you’ve had a tribe out here since your family was in the area, then I don't think there were Indians making arrowheads and dropping them all over the place. Or there were, and we don't know."
"Does it matter if it's actually been on an arrow?"
"You have me there, continue. I assume they weren't a problem because?—"
"My father. He figured out how they were operating, laid a trap for them, and a bunch of men from here and Rapture managed to trap them in a ravine and?—"
I could see it clearly. If the part of the ravine was sufficiently narrow at its entrance and exit, it would create the perfect shooting gallery for anyone perched on the ridges above. I would have been surprised if any of the ambushers had gotten hurt, let alone killed, with that kind of strategy. It was effective, efficient, and absolutely merciless. I wasn't surprised in the slightest that his dad had orchestrated the entire thing.
"So, it's been quiet up until now," I finished for him. "Because they're back."
Ambrose looked at me in surprise. “You believe me?"
"What? You're impossibly stubborn, prideful to the point of almost arrogant, so stiff-necked it's a wonder you don’t hurt yourself when you turn your head, but you're not an idiot or a liar. If it's evidence enough for you to want to make sure, why not? I'm not your brother, who's all the things I said you are but worse, along with being a foul person," I said with a snort.
"I think he just enjoys disagreeing with Ambrose on principle," Hipolita said, the first unkind thing I'd heard her say.
"Possibly," I said, thinking that was certainly part of it, but something else also seemed to be at play. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Joseph's reaction had been overblown, even forsomeone who wanted to be belligerent to their brother. And if that really was the motivation, he clearly had a great deal of spite and rage for his brother.
Ambrose scoffed. “Of all the people I would've guessed might believe me, you wouldn't have made the list."
"Yes, well, I like to surprise people occasionally," I said with a laugh. "Just because you're an asshole doesn't mean I'm going to disagree with you. Not when evidence points to you potentially being right. Plus, you have every right to be cautious after what happened years ago. Don't forget, I had to learn how to survive based on little evidence and quite a few gut feelings. If yours is talking to you, listen."
I couldn't label what the look on his face meant, but it was near to being appreciative and grateful. That, of course, didn't last long before it disappeared behind the normal mask of irritation. I couldn't tell if that was because of the situation or because he was annoyed that his least-liked person, after his brother, was the first to support him outright. I honestly hadn't thought it would bother him so much, but it was an amusing bonus. It probably had to rankle that someone he disliked or mistrusted was willing to believe him so readily.
He cleared his throat, cheeks gaining a little color again. "Look, about what I said to my father?—"
"It was oddly sweet coming from you. Anyone else would’ve found a way to say all that without being insulting, but I do appreciate the gesture," I said with a wink.
I jumped when Hipolita swatted the back of my head before scooping up another plate of food in one hand and a metal mug in the other. "Behave yourself."
"Yes, ma'am," I said with a laugh, looking at Ambrose who was looking frustrated again. "Sorry, go ahead."
"Of course,shecan get you to behave," he said in annoyance and resignation.
"What can I say? Mother figures have a way with me," I said, making Hipolita chuckle as she left the kitchen and the two of us alone. I leaned close. “But stubborn ranch hands with nice dicks also have a way with me...just a different one."
He cleared his throat roughly, face turning even more red. "L-look. I meant what I said to my dad. I know you ain't gonna change, and you're always goin' to be a handful."
"Closer to two hands full."
"Samuel."
"Yes?"
"Shut up and let me get this out before I change my goddamn mind."
I wish I could say it was amusement and curiosity that shut my mouth, but it wasn't. He was trying to get something important out, and I kept interrupting with sex jokes. They weren't really jokes, and I also knew that despite his attempts to act like they were just annoying, they were having another effect on him. While it certainly tempted me to push further to see what else I could get out of him, I tamped down on my mischief and gestured for him to continue, keeping my lips firmly together.
"Thank you," he muttered, sounding onlyslightlypained. "I meant all I said to him. You aren't gonna change, and there ain't no point in tryin' to make you. But you’ve also been working, and I know I've been suspicious...you've not done anything that means I should keep bein' that way. So I think it would be best if I start treatin' you better."