Page 45 of Repentance and Absolution
“Yes, sir. I reckon we got to know each other pretty good on that journey. We’re close friends now, and he’s letting me help him build on the property and make a home here.”
Clarence nodded. “I see.”
I wasn’t really sure he did, and I hoped he didn’t see anything that looked suspicious. Maybe I should change the subject.
“How long have you and Irene lived here?” I asked, hanging Dixie’s bridle up on a hook and putting her rope halter on. I led her into the stall and shut the door with a click of the latch.
“Oh, we been here for about six years now, I guess,” Clarence said.
“You like it? Living here in Port Essington, I mean?”
Clarence shrugged. “Sure. I guess.” He eyed me carefully. “Winters can be hard.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“Maybe this one won’t be so bad.”
“No?” I said, wondering what he meant.
Then, of all the miracles, Clarence nodded and gave me a smile. “We got neighbors now. I reckon me and Irene could use some socializing, before we go and disappear into ourselves completely.”
I grinned with relief and gave a little laugh. “I reckon you’re right. There ain’t nothing better than other people to share the dark months with.”
I’d spent my winters in the company of some unsavory people, and I was very glad to have Clarence and Irene.
“Do you mind if I ask how you make a living out here? Oscar and I are gonna need to figure something out this spring. We’ve got enough money to get through this winter and build a proper house, but after that, things are gonna be tight.”
“Sure. I reckon there’s work in town, at least o’er the summer months. I work at the blacksmith from April to the end of October. And Irene is a dressmaker. She runs a mail-order business.” Clarence sounded mighty proud of his wife.
“That’s wonderful.”
“She’s an excellent seamstress,” Clarence said. “She advertises in all the best catalogs and quarterlies.”
“Well, that’s quite something. Good for her,” I said.
“You get her to show you her work room. ’Tis filled with fabrics and dress forms and all sorts of ridiculous trimmings. But it pays well, and she enjoys it, so…” He shrugged and threw me an indulgent smile. “She brings in more than I do right now, so I can’t complain.”
I didn’t know about that. I figured lots of men would complain about their wives making more money than they did, but Clarence didn’t seem to care. I was glad he didn’t hold it against her, like some would have done. Seemed like a pretty nonsensical outlook to me, and I suppose Clarence thought so, too. If Irene’s hard work benefited him, what did he care about outdated standards of acceptability?
Clarence didn’t say anything else until we’d finished with the horses. Then he looked toward the house and nodded.
“I s’pose we’d better go rescue your friend. Irene’s probably talkin’ his ear off about all sorts of nonsense.”
I laughed. “I reckon Oscar’s probably keeping up with her. I’ve never known a more talkative man than him.”
Clarence smiled as we made our way across the snowy yard and onto the porch, and the door swung inward. T’was Oscar.
“Where the hell have you been, Jimmy? You gotta smell this stew. Irene’s been telling me what all’s in it and, by gosh, I can’t wait to try some.”
“Well, you gotta let me in, Oscar, if you want me to smell it. You’re blocking my way you’re so excited to tell me.”
“Sorry… Sorry,” he said, moving back and letting us in. “Come on in. Can you smell that? My mouth’s been waterin’ since I got here.”
Irene, who was standing at the cookstove stirring something in a pot, laughed. “It’s nice to have someone so excited about my cooking!” she said.
Clarence, who was taking off his boots, harrumphed and gave Irene a stern glance. “My excitement ain’t good enough, woman?”
Irene snorted. “Excitement? Clarence, you have never been excited about a pot on the stove in your lifetime. I’m lucky if I get a ‘thank you’ when you’re done eating.”
