Song of Oestend (6 page)

Aren pulled the blanket over his head and went back to sleep.

SONG OF OESTEND

Marie Sexton

37

“You want to eat, you best get up.”

The voice was rough and slowed by a heavy drawl, and it took Aren’s sleep-addled

brain a moment to connect it to a person—Deacon.

“Go away,” Aren mumbled, burrowing further down into the bed.

Deacon laughed. “Hands’re finishing up now,” he said. “You want to eat before dinner, now’s the time.”

Dinner? There was no meal between breakfast and dinner? That thought was enough to

wake him up in a hurry.

“I’m coming,” he said, and he tried not to be annoyed at Deacon for laughing at him as he stumbled around, taking care of his morning toilet, then finally getting dressed.

“You don’t have lunch?” Aren asked as he followed Deacon around the barracks to the

back of the house where the kitchen was.

“‘Lunch’?” Deacon asked with obvious amusement. “I always forget you boys from the

continent call it that.”

“What do you call it?”

“Dinner.”

“So what’s dinner?” Aren asked, confused.

Deacon laughed. “Well, if you mean what do we eat at the end of the day, it’s ‘supper’.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “No wonder you jumped out of bed so fast!”

Aren did his best not to be annoyed, which would have been easier if he felt like he’d had more than two hours of sleep.

“More often than not, for dinner—or ‘lunch’, I guess”—Deacon winked at Aren as he

said it—“me and the boys are out in the field somewhere. Olsa sends food with us. So most days, there won’t be a bell. You can probably go by whenever and she’ll feed you. Unless she’s ornery, of course, then you’ll go hungry like me. For breakfast and supper, you’ll hear the bell. You can eat with the hands if you want. I usually wait till they’re done, so you’re welcome to do that, too.”

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That statement sounded a bit like an invitation. It seemed like a gesture of friendship, and Aren was pleasantly surprised.

“Sundays, we all have dinner together at the house,” Deacon went on, “family and

hands, too. You’re expected to be there, unless you got someplace better to be.”

“Like where?” Aren asked.

Deacon laughed. “Exactly.”

They’d reached the door to the kitchen, and there, sitting on the ground leaning against the wall, was Red.

“Why the hell ain’t you out feeding with the rest?” Deacon asked, nudging him in the

thigh with the toe of his boot.

Red looked up at them with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t feel so good.”

Deacon shook his head. “Maybe one day you’ll learn not to drink so much when there’s

work to be done the next day.”

“Saints, Deacon, give it a rest,” Red said, holding his head with both hands like he

thought it might fall off if he didn’t. “There’s enough hands to do the work. Can’t you let me take the day off?”

“I don’t pay you to take days off, and if I let you sit on your ass every time you’re hanging from the booze, we won’t get a day’s labour out of you.”

Red didn’t answer. He bent over his knees with his head still in his hands.

“You got till the others get back,” Deacon told him. “Drink some water. Have some hair of the dog if you got to, but you ain’t getting out of chores.”

“Fine,” Red groaned, and Aren followed Deacon into the kitchen.

“Jay always takes it easy on them when I’m gone,” Deacon said. “He don’t know how

to be hard ass, which means I got to be the asshole every time I get home.”

They found Jeremiah in the kitchen. It seemed he’d been waiting there to talk to

Deacon.

“Trip into town went fine?” he asked, while Olsa bustled about, handing them both

bowls of lumpy, lukewarm oatmeal.

“Yup.”

“Hands out feeding right now?” he asked Deacon.

“All but Red,” Deacon said. “He’s sitting out the back door sweating out the booze.”

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“Typical,” Jeremiah said. “What you got them doing today?”

“Got to move those cattle from the west pasture to the other side of the river. Probably take four of those boys most the day to do it. Might put two with that cow in the barn. She’s going to be birthing that calf right soon.” Deacon shrugged. “One man could handle it, unless something goes wrong.”

“Play it safe,” Jeremiah said. “Worth letting a couple of them be lazy to keep from

losing her.”

“Other than that, it’s usual stuff. Muck out the barn, chop wood. Time to do the

maintenance on the generators. Got to clear the northeast pasture if you want to use it for planting in the spring. Plus have to send a couple out to mend the fence by that watering hole. Damn bull keeps pushing his way through, and don’t seem to care he cuts himself to hell in the process.” He shook his head. “Lot to get done in one day, but we’ll do our best.”

Jeremiah nodded. He gestured towards the back door. “Red causing you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Deacon shrugged. “There’s always one.”

“Should I let him go?”

“No. His brother’s a good worker. Makes up for it.”

“How’s the new kid?”

“Small,” Deacon said. “Skittish.” And even though they weren’t talking about him,

Aren felt himself bristle at the comment. “Don’t know if he’ll last or not.”

“He’ll be fine,” Aren said.

Deacon turned to look at him in surprise, and Aren felt his face turning red. Jeremiah didn’t seem to notice his outburst. “All right,” he said. “I’ll take those sons of mine and move them cattle. You have your boys cover the generators. Wraiths get us, it won’t much matter where the cows are.”

“They’re gonna bitch,” Deacon told him, although he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. It was more like saying kids were going to make noise—a simple statement of fact.

Jeremiah laughed. “They always do.”

He left, and Deacon and Aren finished their breakfast in silence. Afterwards, Aren

followed Deacon out into the courtyard, where the men were gathering. While they waited, Aren looked around. Behind him was the barn. Next to it was a corral, and in the corral was…

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“What the hell is
that?
” Aren asked.

Deacon’s laugh was so deep and so loud, it startled Aren almost as much as the creature had.

“It’s a cow.”

“That’s
not
a cow!” Aren said. He may have been a city boy, but he’d seen cows, and they bore only a faint resemblance to the thing he saw in front of him.

“May not be what cattle in Lanstead look like,” Deacon said, “but I promise you, here in Oestend, that there’s a cow.”

The overall shape of the animal in question was cow-like, but its size was all wrong. It was huge, nearly as tall as a horse and twice as wide. It had long, menacingly curved horns on its head. “Why’s it so big?”

“Used to be there were two kinds of buffalo in Oestend. There’s the normal ones you

see now. Ranchers were crossing their biggest cattle with them as soon as they settled here.

Then back when Jeremiah’s daddy was only a boy, they found a new breed way down south.

Twice the size the ones you see now. Hard to domesticate. They’re all dead now, mostly killed by the trappers for their pelts, but before that happened, they got mixed in, too.” He gestured to the animal in question. “That’s the result. That’s what Oestend cows mostly look like, now.”

Looking at the thing, Aren felt the need to back up. He could have sworn it had murder in its eyes.

“It looks angry,” Aren said.

Deacon laughed. “They castrated that one yesterday, so he might be.”

“They’re not dangerous?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mess with the bulls, or the ones like him who just got cut. Sometimes they come down with the froth, too, then they’ll kill you if they get the chance. Those horns’ll end you right quick, and their hooves are sharp as knives.” He shrugged as if it was barely worth mentioning. “Not really anything to worry about, though, most of the time.”

Aren didn’t exactly feel reassured as he eyed the beast in the corral. He was glad he didn’t have to deal with the ‘cows’.

The ranch hands had all arrived and were obviously waiting for Deacon to tell them

what to do. “Hope you boys are all rested,” Deacon said to them, “‘cause we got our work SONG OF OESTEND

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cut out for us this week. We got some maintenance to do today, and tomorrow we start

clearing the northeast pasture.

“Ronin, Red, Calin and Aubry—it’s your turn on the generators.” All four of the men

moaned, but Deacon ignored them. “You know what to do. Get the ladders and the

harnesses from the shed. Open them up—”

“Simon and Garrett did that last month!” Aubry whined, and Red and Calin nodded.

“They’re fine! They don’t need to be cleaned again already!”

“It ain’t a question of whether or not they’re ‘fine’. Generators don’t get good

maintenance, they stop working. Or you feel like getting friendly with a wraith?”

“It’s a waste of time,” Red said. His brother Ronin looked unhappy with his outburst.

He elbowed him in the ribs and whispered something low to him, but Red ignored him. “I ain’t doing it!”

“You want to keep your job, you’ll do what I say, and I say you’re cleaning the generators.”

“The three of them can handle it,” Red said, gesturing at Calin, Ronin and Aubry, who all looked less than pleased that he was trying to get himself out of the work, leaving them with more.

“Takes at least two men,” Deacon told him. “Three won’t do no good. With four, you

can split into two teams. Each of you take one mill, you’ll be done by supper.”

“It ain’t gonna kill you to let me take a day off.”

“No, don’t suppose it would kill me,” Deacon said. “But I still ain’t doing it. You get your ass out with the others—”

“Fuck you!”

Deacon grinned. It wasn’t a nice grin, either. It gave him a mean, feral look. He

broadened his stance and squared his shoulders. “Come on up here and say that again, if you got the balls,” he said.

“I will!”

“No!” Ronin said, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Don’t be stupid! It’s just cleaning gears.

It ain’t worth losing our jobs over!”

But Red ignored him. He shook his brother off and walked through the cluster of men

to stand in front of Deacon. He wasn’t as big as Deacon, but somehow, he looked meaner. He SONG OF OESTEND

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stood toe-to-toe with Deacon, his shoulders back. Aren noticed that the other men all backed up a bit.

“Now,” Deacon said, without moving a muscle. “Say it again.”

“I said fu—”

Deacon’s fist slammed into Red’s face so hard and so fast, it made Aren jump. He’d

expected there to be more talk. More posturing. More insults. Apparently Red had expected the same, but Deacon didn’t seem inclined to waste time with such testosterone-laden banter.

He had apparently decided to cut right to the chase. Or, in this case, the ass-kicking.

He punched Red again, knocking him down. The man landed clumsily on his ass.

Deacon’s third punch knocked him flat on his back.

Deacon straightened up again to his full height. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Aren

wondered if his own pulse was pounding faster than Deacon’s, and all he’d done was watch.

“Now,” Deacon said, “you got anything else to say, or are you ready to clean some

gears?”

“Mmmpphhh,” Red said.

It didn’t sound like much of anything to Aren, but it seemed to satisfy Deacon. “Good,”

he said. He looked over at Ronin. “That’s the second time he’s crossed me,” he said. “One more time and he’s out.”

“I know,” Ronin said with sad resignation. He was staring down at his brother, who

had managed to sit up but didn’t appear to be standing any time soon.

“You’re a good man,” Deacon said. “You can still stay—”

“Wherever we go,” Ronin said, “we go together.”

Deacon shrugged. “Your choice.” He turned to the rest of the men. “Simon, you and

Miron stay with that pregnant cow in the barn. Hard to say when she’ll start birthing. Take turns watching her. Easy enough to clean the stalls while you’re there, maybe get some wood chopped.”

“You bet,” Simon said.

“Garrett, you and me are going to walk the northeast pasture, check the fences and

mark what needs to be cleared.”

“Sure, boss.”

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“Sawyer, you go out to the watering hole and restring the barbed wire on that fence.

Take Frances with you—”

“
No!
” The word was out of Aren’s mouth before he knew he was going to speak.

Suddenly every hand in the courtyard was looking at him, including Deacon.

“What the hell did you say?” Deacon asked. Aren couldn’t tell if he was amused or

annoyed. He had a feeling Deacon wasn’t sure either.

“I just…” Aren looked at Frances. The boy’s eyes were huge, and while Aren imagined

he could see hope and maybe even a silent thanks in them, he also saw Frances shake his head, just barely. He didn’t want Aren saying anything in front of all the other men, and Aren couldn’t blame him.

Aren felt his cheeks turn red. He hated to back down, but he wasn’t going to spill

Frances’ secret to everybody. “Nothing,” Aren said to Deacon. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Deacon had apparently already decided to ignore him. He turned back to the men.

“Y’all know where to find me if you need me.”

The men didn’t exactly hurry, but they didn’t dawdle either. Ronin helped his brother up off the ground, and Aren could hear him saying, “I told you not to push him!” as they walked away.

“Garrett, you go on in the barn and find some markers to use. I’ll catch you on your

way back.”