Let It Go (8 page)

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He could feel the storm brewing. For days, this feeling of oppression that wouldn’t let up. Today he could smell it. Off in the distance. It was still so hot. Hotter than he’d ever experienced. Dangerously hot. The air was heavy and thick; the sun blazed down unmercifully. The ground seemed to sizzle and spark under his feet as he moved through the horse pasture. The mares were agitated, Kip not much better.

Creed looked over his shoulder at the two girls under the oak in the middle of the pasture. He’d bring them in soon. After Eli got back with Kip. He’d ridden out alone to check the cattle. He did it every afternoon. Cell phone with the spotty service his only link back to the house. That was hours ago.

He flicked the whip at the stable wall, knocking a grasshopper to the ground. Another flick at the wall. Another to wrap it around the column in the middle of the stable. Relax and let it fall away. He’d done this so many times as a kid. He’d learned control with that damned whip his dad kept in the horse trailer. Patience too. He liked the feel of the leather in his hand. He liked the zing in the air and the crack on the end of that zing. He’d flicked flies off the rear ends of the horses one summer. Just to see if the horses would notice. They didn’t. He’d learned the lasso that summer too. Tricks. Watching one of the clowns goofing off. The man was a trick rider who wrangled bulls on the side. He’d taught him other tricks too. Things to do with his mouth. Paid him good for getting it right. He was twelve that summer. He didn’t think anything of it. It was something to do.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound punctuated by the clopping of hooves on asphalt. Kip looked peevish when he stopped inside the stable, in the shade out of the blazing hot sun. He snorted, his ears flicking angrily. The man on his back climbed off and tossed his hat to the hay pile not far away; he was dripping sweat and as angry as the horse.

“Put that damned thing down and come help me with your damn horse.” He all but growled as he stripped out of the drenched T-shirt that was plastered to his chest. “It’s too fucking hot. This is fucking tornado weather. Cows were spread out acting weird. The horse picked up their unease. Had to fight him to get him to come back to the house.”

No wonder Kip looked so bad. “Poor fella,” Creed crooned as he took the bit from Kip’s mouth. “That asshole chucked your mouth up, didn’t he? Want me to kick his ass?” The horse seemed to say yes as he snuffled Creed’s ear. “Yeah, that’s my boy, we’ll kick his ass together.”

“You and that damn scrawny horse will lose. I can beat you both with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Because you cheat. And it’ll be the left one.”

“Shut the fuck up, tenderfoot.” Eli stripped down to his jeans while Creed pulled the saddle off Kip’s back. He forgot about Eli while he worked to cool the agitated horse. Whispering words that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but Kip. Thunder rumbled again. This time closer. Electricity hung in the air as if it were alive. Creed looked up to find Eli watching him from where he leaned against the rails, a bottle of sports drink in his hands. He looked miserable. Three huge gulps had the sports drink mostly gone, and Eli began to take on a more normal shade of color. “Jesus. Fuck. This is going to get nasty.”

“Get the mares in, will you? I was about to when you rode up. They’re out under the oak.” Creed looked out the back entrance to the pasture where the two ladies stood huddled together at the fence. “Okay, not at the oak.”

Eli didn’t speak; he went out and took the gray mare by her halter and led her into her newly cleaned stall and patted her nose before he brought in the other mare and put her in the adjacent stall.

“Feeling better, boy?” Creed rubbed Kip down. He needed to walk him before he put him in the stall.

“I walked him the last mile or so,” Eli said from the back of the stable where he was rinsing his head under the water hose. “The whole northwest sky is black. I didn’t think we’d make it back before all hell broke loose.”

“Okay, thanks,” Creed shouted over another rumble of thunder. He continued rubbing down Kip, talking to him to keep him calm.

“So, what does he say?” Eli climbed up on the top rail and sat watching Creed fuss over his horse.

“That you’re a douche bag. Yes, he is, Kipper, I agree. A totally useless douche.” Creed shot a nasty grin at the man on the railing.

“What kind of name is Kipper for a damned horse anyway?” Eli opened a bottle of water and took a long swig.

“About the same as Opie. Don’t tell me you were a fan of
The Andy Griffith Show
when you were a kid?”

“Opie was short for Old Paint. OP. Besides it wasn’t his registered name, just what we called him.”

“Still his name. Kip came with the name. I didn’t name him. I call him Kipper to make him feel better about his lot in life.”

“Cartoon dog or a can of foul-smelling fish. Yeah, I’d feel real good about that.”

“Coming from a man with the word Lie in his name, I should find this threatening why?”

“At least my name isn’t some verb or whatever a creed is. What the hell is a creed anyway?”

“Something you wouldn’t know anything about. And anyway the word is a noun, not a verb.”

“One of your crazy Injun things, I’m sure.” Eli had the gall to look smug from his spot up on the railing. He leaned back against a column and propped one booted foot on the rail. The lace was loose and hanging down.

Creed felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up with his words. How the fuck did Eli know about that? He’d never said a word to anyone. His dad had never said a word. You couldn’t tell by looking.

“Why’d you cut your hair off? I thought your people had a thing about hair. That’s why you grew it to your ass, wasn’t it? Chief Running Wolf.” The laughter wasn’t contagious. Creed felt the muscles in his jaw clench so tight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to open his mouth to speak another word. “You told me when you were sun broiled, remember? It’s no big deal, Creed; so what if you’re a damned half-breed.”

Creed walked Kip to the stall at the very back of the stables across from the two mares. Kip snorted and went to his water, flicking his tail by way of a thank-you. The storm outside grew closer. Thunder practically shook the rafters free of whatever was hiding up there.

“Come on, Creed, it was a joke. Can’t you take a fucking joke?” came the shout from the front of the building. Creed leaned over the gate to take one last look at Kip as he settled in. It had been a week since he’d been cooped up like this. Free to run in the small horse pasture every day and eat grass to his heart’s content. While Creed was trapped. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t do anything except try not to kill Eli Mason. And think about the shit hand he’d been dealt in life. At least he wasn’t hungry. He couldn’t remember a time that he had a steady diet of mostly real food. When his mom was alive was the last time he could remember three squares a day. She’d died fifteen years ago. He didn’t remember much about her cooking. Just that it was there when he came home each night. She worked. She made sure he was clothed and fed. She read to him sometimes. Talked to him while they worked together in the house. She’d loved him. He remembered that.

He’d had love once. And now he had food. Without having to debase himself to get it. There was plenty to keep him busy. Eli’s stable really was a mess. He’d let it go, leaving the horses out in the pasture. They’d spent the last two days mucking out rank stalls and sweeping spiderwebs from the windows. Rodents had gotten into his tack room and destroyed a saddle, among other things. Creed could fix some of it, but the rest was trash. And for the most part they worked well together. As long as they did it on opposite sides of the building while ignoring each other.

Satisfied that Kip wasn’t suffering any heat effects, Creed pushed himself off the gate and started back toward the front. He was hungry, and this storm had him on edge. He found the bullwhip on the floor where he’d dropped it and bent to pick it up. He meant to put it back in the tack room where he found it the day before. He dangled the leather on the ground, wiggling it to make patterns in the dirt as he walked. Eli’s growl caught him off guard.

“I told you to put that damned thing in the trash.” The man jumped to the floor and started for him. He had that look in his eyes that Creed remembered from the many times they’d clashed in whatever bar they happened to end up in. The completely unreasonable pissed-off
I’m going to kick your ass for no goddamned reason
look. Creed hadn’t seen that look in a while. He cracked the whip, the flick of his wrist nothing more than reflex.

Eli stopped cold just out of reach of the medium-length strip of leather. His eyes grew almost feral. Creed cracked it again, letting it hit the floor at Eli’s feet. “And that makes me wonder why. It’s a perfectly good whip. Nothing wrong with the leather.”

“Just throw the damned thing away.” Eli’s hands balled into fists. His body bristled with anger that Creed could feel all the way across the room. Irrational anger that pissed Creed off.

“I don’t think I will.” He cracked the whip again; this time it hit the packed earth floor right in front of Eli’s feet hard enough to leave a mark. Eli stepped back. His eyes blazed with something beyond anger.

“I will take it from you and wrap it around your damned neck.”

“You can try,” Creed sneered. He moved forward, relaxing his grip on the handle; the whip swished through the air. Thunder cracked outside. The sun that was so bright and strong a few minutes before disappeared, leaving them standing in shadows beneath the pale lights hanging overhead.

“Fucking coward.” Eli backed up another step away from the tip.

“Coming from you I’ll take that as a compliment. Since you’re the king of the damned cowards.” Creed stepped forward suddenly and the whip arced wide. Eli’s face turned to pure rage when the strip wrapped around his waist. “Don’t fuck with me, Eli.”

“I’m not the one holding the weapon.” His face was livid; he reached for the end of the leather as Creed pulled it out of his reach.

“It’s only a weapon if used as one. It’s a tool I can control, nothing more. Unlike your mouth and your fists that you use without prejudice.”

“For a high school dropout you use some pretty big words.”

Creed let the leather fly, this time catching Eli’s arm. Eli winced before it hit. There was no mark when Creed pulled it back. “And for an educated man you prefer to sink to the bottom of the barrel for your insults and cut downs. Call me an Injun again. I dare you. I’ll show you a weapon and it won’t be the goddamned whip.”

Eli crouched low, his body poised to fight, his face a mask of hatred that suspended the anger coursing through Creed’s veins. Did he really hate him that much? What had he ever done to him to make him hate like that?

“You gonna show me why they named you Running Wolf, pussy? Yellow Dawg would have been better. Can’t fight like a man. Has to hide behind a whip.”

Creed threw the whip to the side and was on top of him before Eli finished the taunt. He knew it was a taunt. He knew they were reacting to the storm and a week of tension being cooped up out here together with no one else to talk to. No one to deflect the other’s attention. There was only the two of them. And this pissing match that was a decade long. He knew. He just didn’t care.

Eli looked surprised for a moment after he hit the ground. But only for a moment and then he hit back, his fist landing on Creed’s jaw where the bruise had begun to heal from the last time. “Son of a bitch,” Creed growled as he caught the second swing, holding Eli’s wrist tight in his hand. Eli bucked beneath him trying to free his hand and swing at Creed with the other at the same time. “Sick to death of fighting with you. Ten fucking years of fighting. Going to end this now.”

“Then end it, fucker. Or try. I’ll end you if you don’t.” Eli lifted his hips and had Creed almost unseated, except Creed tucked his knees tight around him and squeezed with his thighs until he had Eli gasping for breath.

He had to stop this; had to before he forgot why he’d avoided the man all these years. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want… Creed found the strip of bailing twine near the haystack they’d made the day before and snagged it with his free hand. Leaning over Eli, he wrapped the twine around one wrist and then the other until his hands were drawn up tight together. When he let go Eli came after him, swinging both hands like a club. Catching him in the chest. “Enough,” Creed bellowed, the force making his still sore throat throb with pain.

“You said you were going to end this. Fucking coward. Do something,” Eli spit at him, still trying to shake him off. Creed caught his wrists behind the twine and, standing, dragged the enraged man off the ground. Looking around, he noticed the old rusted nail high on one of the support columns in the middle of the building. He dragged Eli to the column and hefted his arms high over his head and hooked the twine on the nail. Eli’s toes barely touched the floor, which forced him to focus on balancing on them to take the pressure off his shoulders. “Big man. Tie me up so you can do your dirty work. Get the whip. Bring it.”

Something slimy slithered down Creed’s back. Anger and hate and bitter distrust riding him, he wrapped a hand around Eli’s throat, his body so close he could feel the heat radiating off Eli’s skin. So close he could smell him. Sweat, dirt, horse, and peppermint. Eli always smelled like peppermint. He liked those little hard candies. Always had a couple in his pockets. Creed stood there, his face in front of Eli’s. He could feel the man’s breath on his face. He could see the whites of his eyes, how small his pupils were. Fear. This was fear. Like he saw in the horses. “I’m not like you, Eli. I’m sick of this. All this. Just leave me alone. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. Leave me alone.”

He loosened his grip on Eli’s neck, letting his hand rest there for a moment. Waiting for Eli to make the next move. Waiting for him to calm down. He’d let him down when he was calm. Then he’d walk away. When Eli didn’t say anything Creed stood on his toes, his body flush to Eli’s to reach Eli’s hands. Eli’s soft moan stopped him.