Page 26 of Repentance and Absolution
Oscar had tossed the rag aside and now stroked that revolver like t’was a precious stone.
A chill passed through me as I remembered watching my baby brother, Robert, with his first gun. A part of me recoiled from teaching Oscar how to handle a weapon, but a bigger part of me wanted him to be able to protect himself. I’d bought it for him, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to put it in his hand until now.
“That’s neither here nor there,” I said. “It’s to keep yourself safe. I don’t—” I took a deep breath. “I don’t like the idea of you out there on your own with Onyx, e’en though she’s a good, sensible horse. But if I have to put up with it, I’m gonna need you to learn to shoot.”
“Okay.”
I went o’er the safety aspects to begin with. T’was to be kept in the drawer, unloaded, unless he was going out riding. He needed to be respectful and careful with it, because he didn’t want to shoot himself or his beloved horse, orme,by accident. And he was only,only,to use it in self-defense, or to practice his aim with tin cans on a stump, and only when I knew he was doing so. No shooting for fun or trying to bring down an animal, no matter how good he thought he was, or how pleased he imagined I’d be. I told him I’d be prouder of him for following my instructions. He seemed to acknowledge that.
We spent some time each day outside, using a can on a log as a target. Oscar took to it pretty well and hooted with satisfaction every time the bullet made contact. Soon, he was hardly missing his target. Still, that was while standing, with an object in his sights that didn’t move. It would take more time and practice, but his aim wasn’t bad. I hoped he could at least scare off an animal and make it home alive. I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but Oscar was a grown man, and I couldn’t keep him at home like a child, as much as I might wanted to.
The first time he went out on his own was rough. I’d convinced him to stay close to the homestead and not to go near the neighbor’s place just yet. We hadn’t been back to town since we’d encountered him, so I hadn’t been able to query Carson. I reckoned t’was better to steer clear for now.
For the first bit that he was gone I couldn’t sit still, and my mind was filled with horrifying images. I figured distraction was the only way I’d get through it.
There was cleaning to be done, so I got to it. Truth be told, Oscar tended to be slovenly. I couldn’t blame him, considering the time he’d spent on the streets and without proper guidance. I’d told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to take his boots off inside the door where we had a mat and not track mud and grit and snow inside our small place, but sometimes he forgot. I tried not to get mad, and if I asked him to help clean, he was willing. T’was a small bone of contention between us, and I reckon every couple had to deal with problems like that. T’was frustrating, but if you loved someone, you put up with it and just tried to manage, and you focused on all their other, good qualities—of which, Oscar had plenty.
Since that first ride, from which he’d returned home so content and proud of himself that I couldn’t begrudge him wanting some freedom, he’d rode out a handful of times. He made sure to be back within an hour or so, and I simply tried to distract myself from fretting while he was gone.
But one day, about a week after he’d started on these occasional forays, he rode out on Onyx around three in the afternoon. I’d asked him not to be long because it looked like it might snow, and the sun went down sooner in the evenings these days. He assured me he would be quick, and I trusted him on his word.
Almost as soon as he’d ridden out with his revolver in its holster on his saddle, it did start to snow. T’was not unusual this time of year, and I’d expected it, so I didn’t worry much at first. I went out and got Dixie and Poke into the barn where t’was dry and gave them their evening feed and some fresh hay.
Carson Moore and Tim Jensen had insisted on stocking the barn with enough hay to get us through our first winter, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. I’d protested that t’was too much, since they were helping us with everything else, but they’d insisted t’was their duty to do it, after what had happened to Oscar’s uncle. I reckon they’d always feel responsible for that outcome, even though t’wasn’t their fault.
I stood between the barn and the house for a few minutes, watching in the direction Oscar had left, hoping to see him coming home, but with no luck. T’was getting awful cold, so I went back inside.
O’er the next hour, the snow got real thick really quick, and the time ticked by and Oscar didn’t return.
I felt restless, anxious and like maybe I should saddle Dixie and go out looking for him. But then, I thought that was being silly and that he’d roll in any minute, looking pleased as punch to have been out in such a pretty snowfall. I was glad he had his revolver, but it wouldn’t be much help to him if he couldn’t find his way home. The more time went by, the more anxious I became, and my thoughts began to spiral. I stood staring out of the window at the falling snow as vivid images assaulted me.
Thick flakes of snow fell, making it hard to see, but the desperate man that Spook had robbed and tormented turned and somehow toppled the skinny outlaw in a frantic attempt to escape. Spook’s gun slipped from his drunken grip and the man lunged for it, grabbing it and aiming it at him with crazed eyes.
“Shoot him!”
“Goddammit, shoot the fucker, Jimmy!”
Spook and Whitlaw shouted at the same time, because I’d aimed my gun the moment the man had moved, mostly to protect myself. But I pulled the trigger, because t’was either that or become a victim. He jerked and fell back in an instant, gurgling and twitching on the ground like a squashed insect. That was the first time I’d ever shot a man.
I had been in a state of shock for days after, and neither Spook nor Whitlaw could figure out what was wrong, since to them two, cold-blooded killing came natural. I got to thinking that maybe I should have simply lunged in front of Spook, so the desperate man would kill me, and I’d have found a way out from the sticky spot I’d been in. But I had wanted to live too much for that, and I was glad I’d lived, because I’d escaped them and found Oscar and…
Maybe this snowstorm was God’s way of punishing me for all that. I blinked hard and stepped to the door to get my coat and boots. Maybe Oscar was lost or he was already dead, but I had to find him. I had to know for sure. Maybe God had taken Oscar from me to punish me for what I’d done.
Before I even got close to where my coat hung, I fell to my knees and placed my trembling hands together in a prayer—something I’d never, ever done before. And I started talking to God in my head. Because I knew that if I didn’t make amends with him, right this minute, he was going to take from me the only thing that mattered.
I know I ain’t been a good man. I know I done terrible things for the wrong people, and I’m sorry for that, I truly am. I wish I could go back, change everything and never leave with Spook and Whitlaw after Ma died and…and Pa…did what he did. But I let them convince me I could do manly things and make a strange kind of life with them. I regret it every day. I do, Lord.
And Oscar? Well, he loves me and…he forgives me, and I know that don’t matter, but I hope you can forgive me, too.I blinked up at the wood roof of our little home, my eyes stinging and blurring.I know you understand what we are together, and I know… I know you don’t think it’s wrong. I know that in my heart, because what Oscar and I have is so…pure and, and…it’s the most holy thing I’ve ever felt, Lord. I know you understand that. And I’m beggin’ you…I’m beggin’ you…please, please, please don’t take him away from me.
I shuddered a desperate breath and rose from the floor, shoving my stocking feet into my boots and pulling my coat off the hook, feeling the absence of Oscar’s things like a knife in my gut. I grabbed my rifle from its hook, where it stayed loaded and ready to use in an emergency, with Oscar forbidden to touch it unless he absolutely needed to. And I went out to the barn.
The snow was still falling, and by now, the daylight had faded and I knew Oscar would be in trouble. How he’d find his way in the dark and the snow—well, I didn’t want to think on it. I reckoned Dixie sensed my fear and the state I was in, because she was quiet and subdued as I saddled her. Or maybe she didn’t want to go out in the storm.
I got her ready as quick as I could and led her out of the barn, knowing there was a good chance I’d get lost in this damn storm before I ever found him…but needing to try.
Chapter Seven
A Buffalo Coat and an Act of Kindness
