Free Love, Like Water by Rowan Speedwell Page A
Authors: Rowan Speedwell
me it’s an old Gaelic name for hockey puck and I’d believe him.”
“No, that would be ‘’nerfalon’,” Joshua said soberly.
“Would it?”
“No.” Again, that slow smile, this time directed at Eli. He felt his knees go weak. “It’s payback for the man-eating horse comment.”
“Smartass.” It was the only comment Eli could come up with; he thought maybe Joshua’s smile had fried his brain.
Slowly, carefully, he unhooked the latch to the box and came in. Rory raised his head and snuffled his shirt. Eli fed him a handful of mix from the bucket hanging outside the stall. Joshua sat in his corner and watched them.
When Rory was finished, Eli shoved his big head gently away. “You ate it all, you stupid horse,” he said in a soothing voice. In the same voice, he said to Joshua, “You can tell they were treated pretty well before the old man died. They each have their own tack, and it’s good quality. Turns out the old man had a son killed in Afghanistan that used to work the farm with him. I expect he just kinda lost the will to live after that.”
Joshua said nothing, just listened.
“The folks that shipped ’em here sent the tack along too. Needs some oiling—looks like it hasn’t been used for a while. But once these guys are a bit better, they’ll be happy to have their own gear again.” He glanced at Joshua, who was gazing at his knees, which he’d drawn up and wrapped his arms around. “Play your cards right, and I reckon Tucker might give you this boy all for your own. Once he’s fleshed out, he’ll be about the right size….”
“No.”
Eli raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer. He just waited.
“I don’t want a horse.” He’d drawn his knees in tighter; he was so thin the bones seemed to go straight up and down. “I’m not going to have a horse. I don’t want it. I don’t want this cat, either.”
“Nobody offered you the cat,” Eli pointed out gently.
“Well, if they did, I don’t want it.” Joshua dragged in a long slow breath, then let it out again. “I’m here to work, that’s all. Uncle Tucker needs my help, I’ll give it to him. I don’t want anything else.”
Eli left off petting the horse and took the three steps to stand in front of Joshua. “If people want to give you things, son, you take ’em and say ‘thank you’. That’s the way people do it.”
“There’s always a cost,” Joshua replied shakily. “There’s always a snake in the woodpile. Nothing’s free. Tanstaafl.”
That sounded German to Eli. He frowned and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, I don’t know that word. I know mach schnell and glasnost and that’s about the extent of my German.”
The laugh that broke from Joshua this time was light and brittle. “It’s not German—and neither is glasnost —that’s Russian. ‘Tanstaafl’ is the acronym for ‘there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch’.”
Eli thought about it. Yeah, guess it was. “Well, maybe not. But there’s ways and ways of paying up, son.”
“I’m not your son.”
“Nope.” He reached his gloved hand down. “Come on. It’s nearabouts supper time and you need to wash up after spending your afternoon sleeping with that beast.”
“Which, the cat or the horse?”
“Take your pick.” Eli waited.
Finally, Joshua reached up and put his hand in Eli’s. Careful not to squeeze the bones too hard, Eli hauled him to his feet.
His legs must have been asleep, because he staggered a little; he put his free hand out to touch Eli’s shoulder for balance. They stood close a moment, one of Joshua’s hands in Eli’s, the other burning a patch on his shoulder, as if they were about to dance.
Joshua went very still. Startled, Eli met his eyes. They went dark and hooded a moment, and Joshua’s breath was warm and sweet on Eli’s cheek. Then the black lashes went down, shy as any girl’s, but he didn’t draw away.
Curling his fingers around Joshua’s, Eli said raggedly,
“No, that would be ‘’nerfalon’,” Joshua said soberly.
“Would it?”
“No.” Again, that slow smile, this time directed at Eli. He felt his knees go weak. “It’s payback for the man-eating horse comment.”
“Smartass.” It was the only comment Eli could come up with; he thought maybe Joshua’s smile had fried his brain.
Slowly, carefully, he unhooked the latch to the box and came in. Rory raised his head and snuffled his shirt. Eli fed him a handful of mix from the bucket hanging outside the stall. Joshua sat in his corner and watched them.
When Rory was finished, Eli shoved his big head gently away. “You ate it all, you stupid horse,” he said in a soothing voice. In the same voice, he said to Joshua, “You can tell they were treated pretty well before the old man died. They each have their own tack, and it’s good quality. Turns out the old man had a son killed in Afghanistan that used to work the farm with him. I expect he just kinda lost the will to live after that.”
Joshua said nothing, just listened.
“The folks that shipped ’em here sent the tack along too. Needs some oiling—looks like it hasn’t been used for a while. But once these guys are a bit better, they’ll be happy to have their own gear again.” He glanced at Joshua, who was gazing at his knees, which he’d drawn up and wrapped his arms around. “Play your cards right, and I reckon Tucker might give you this boy all for your own. Once he’s fleshed out, he’ll be about the right size….”
“No.”
Eli raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer. He just waited.
“I don’t want a horse.” He’d drawn his knees in tighter; he was so thin the bones seemed to go straight up and down. “I’m not going to have a horse. I don’t want it. I don’t want this cat, either.”
“Nobody offered you the cat,” Eli pointed out gently.
“Well, if they did, I don’t want it.” Joshua dragged in a long slow breath, then let it out again. “I’m here to work, that’s all. Uncle Tucker needs my help, I’ll give it to him. I don’t want anything else.”
Eli left off petting the horse and took the three steps to stand in front of Joshua. “If people want to give you things, son, you take ’em and say ‘thank you’. That’s the way people do it.”
“There’s always a cost,” Joshua replied shakily. “There’s always a snake in the woodpile. Nothing’s free. Tanstaafl.”
That sounded German to Eli. He frowned and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, I don’t know that word. I know mach schnell and glasnost and that’s about the extent of my German.”
The laugh that broke from Joshua this time was light and brittle. “It’s not German—and neither is glasnost —that’s Russian. ‘Tanstaafl’ is the acronym for ‘there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch’.”
Eli thought about it. Yeah, guess it was. “Well, maybe not. But there’s ways and ways of paying up, son.”
“I’m not your son.”
“Nope.” He reached his gloved hand down. “Come on. It’s nearabouts supper time and you need to wash up after spending your afternoon sleeping with that beast.”
“Which, the cat or the horse?”
“Take your pick.” Eli waited.
Finally, Joshua reached up and put his hand in Eli’s. Careful not to squeeze the bones too hard, Eli hauled him to his feet.
His legs must have been asleep, because he staggered a little; he put his free hand out to touch Eli’s shoulder for balance. They stood close a moment, one of Joshua’s hands in Eli’s, the other burning a patch on his shoulder, as if they were about to dance.
Joshua went very still. Startled, Eli met his eyes. They went dark and hooded a moment, and Joshua’s breath was warm and sweet on Eli’s cheek. Then the black lashes went down, shy as any girl’s, but he didn’t draw away.
Curling his fingers around Joshua’s, Eli said raggedly,