Emmett Colt
Aug 4th, 2008, 02:23:07 AM
"Why?" He asked, his voice breaking.
"I don't know, Emmett. I'm sorry. I wish I had an answer for you."
"This can't be happening. It can't have happened." He put his head against his hands, the roughened brim of his hat scratching against his skin. He was too exhausted to cry, too drained to do anything other than ask again, "Why?"
"Pray with me," Elijah suggested.
"I don't want t'pray. I want to know why."
"Pray with me anyway."
Too tired to argue, Emmett Colt merely nodded and gave way to the man who was, for all intents and purposes, his brother-in-law. Elijah Bennett prayed; he did, too.
And then he stood. His eyes teared as he glanced up towards the pulpit, but his tears never fell. His eyes dried. They began to burn. He blinked once, but it didn’t help. He had no more tears to shed. He’d given them all away.
Emmett turned and walked down the aisle. Rebekah was standing by the last pew, watching him with a look that Emmett couldn't even begin to decipher. Not that he wanted to - there had been enough exchanged between them to last a lifetime. Two lifetimes, even.
He heard Elijah shuffling behind him. "Emmett, wait - "
"I got to get back to the ranch."
"You could stay with us." Elijah offered. "It's a fair ride and you could use the rest."
"Need to get back." Emmett said. The preacher would not be dissuaded so easily. The man's perseverance was legendary. He pressed onward, following Emmett down the aisle, the air so thick with humidity that it seemed to roll with their every movement.
"Did He speak to you?" Elijah asked.
Emmett looked over his shoulder and caught Elijah's gaze. He nodded.
"What did He say?"
"You don't want to know." Emmett said. He turned and walked away. Rebekah followed; she caught him on the stairs, one hand on his shoulder long enough to pull him to a stop.
"Tell me." She said, staring at him with the look that had first made him stop and take notice. That had been before Ruth. Before everything. "Tell me."
"Don’t you want to know what I asked first?" Emmett’s voice was little more than a shadow. His eyes were dull and distant. He was looking at Rebekah, but he wasn’t seeing her.
"You asked why." She surmised. Easily, like he was as clear to her as spring water.
"No. I asked why her. Why them, instead of me."
"And what did He say?"
He stared at Rebekah for almost a full minute before answering. When he did speak, his voice was so quiet it barely cleared the still of the summer air. The words were gravel in his mouth, and he offered them to Rebekah in return for everything he’d taken from her.
"He said goodbye."
***
He woke well before dawn, startled out of a dream that he couldn't now remember. There had been horses, maybe. That was what had woken him so abruptly, at any rate - he thought he'd heard a horse screaming in distress.
Emmett went still. He strained to hear through the early-waking sounds of morning. Birds, a light wind, the shuffling of livestock. Nothing unusual.
He let out a low breath that wasn't quite heavy enough to be considered a sigh. With his usual quiet acceptance, Emmett unfolded himself from the warm confines of his bed. The cool air against his skin helped clear any lingering cobwebs. He slipped into his clothes, picking them up as he walked across the room - trousers on the floor, undershirt hanging from a chair back, button down resting half-hazardly on the dusty chest near the door.
Breakfast was coffee and cold biscuits, like it always was. He hardly noticed the taste as he stood on the porch. Already his mind was filing down the list of tasks that needed doing. The cattle needed to be moved to the south pasture, but he'd have to replace the fence posts beforehand. That was a morning's work, at least.
Emmett rubbed at his jaw with a weathered hand. He was eager to start, but as he turned to deposit his cup inside, a little blur in the distance caught his eye. Emmett squinted, just making out the lines of a buggy as the speck moved closer. He tensed, straightened to his full height.
Of all the mornings...
With a set look, the man stepped off the porch and waited until the wagon drew close enough for him to call out to it's driver.
"You ain't welcome here." Subtlety had never been his strong suit.
"I don't know, Emmett. I'm sorry. I wish I had an answer for you."
"This can't be happening. It can't have happened." He put his head against his hands, the roughened brim of his hat scratching against his skin. He was too exhausted to cry, too drained to do anything other than ask again, "Why?"
"Pray with me," Elijah suggested.
"I don't want t'pray. I want to know why."
"Pray with me anyway."
Too tired to argue, Emmett Colt merely nodded and gave way to the man who was, for all intents and purposes, his brother-in-law. Elijah Bennett prayed; he did, too.
And then he stood. His eyes teared as he glanced up towards the pulpit, but his tears never fell. His eyes dried. They began to burn. He blinked once, but it didn’t help. He had no more tears to shed. He’d given them all away.
Emmett turned and walked down the aisle. Rebekah was standing by the last pew, watching him with a look that Emmett couldn't even begin to decipher. Not that he wanted to - there had been enough exchanged between them to last a lifetime. Two lifetimes, even.
He heard Elijah shuffling behind him. "Emmett, wait - "
"I got to get back to the ranch."
"You could stay with us." Elijah offered. "It's a fair ride and you could use the rest."
"Need to get back." Emmett said. The preacher would not be dissuaded so easily. The man's perseverance was legendary. He pressed onward, following Emmett down the aisle, the air so thick with humidity that it seemed to roll with their every movement.
"Did He speak to you?" Elijah asked.
Emmett looked over his shoulder and caught Elijah's gaze. He nodded.
"What did He say?"
"You don't want to know." Emmett said. He turned and walked away. Rebekah followed; she caught him on the stairs, one hand on his shoulder long enough to pull him to a stop.
"Tell me." She said, staring at him with the look that had first made him stop and take notice. That had been before Ruth. Before everything. "Tell me."
"Don’t you want to know what I asked first?" Emmett’s voice was little more than a shadow. His eyes were dull and distant. He was looking at Rebekah, but he wasn’t seeing her.
"You asked why." She surmised. Easily, like he was as clear to her as spring water.
"No. I asked why her. Why them, instead of me."
"And what did He say?"
He stared at Rebekah for almost a full minute before answering. When he did speak, his voice was so quiet it barely cleared the still of the summer air. The words were gravel in his mouth, and he offered them to Rebekah in return for everything he’d taken from her.
"He said goodbye."
***
He woke well before dawn, startled out of a dream that he couldn't now remember. There had been horses, maybe. That was what had woken him so abruptly, at any rate - he thought he'd heard a horse screaming in distress.
Emmett went still. He strained to hear through the early-waking sounds of morning. Birds, a light wind, the shuffling of livestock. Nothing unusual.
He let out a low breath that wasn't quite heavy enough to be considered a sigh. With his usual quiet acceptance, Emmett unfolded himself from the warm confines of his bed. The cool air against his skin helped clear any lingering cobwebs. He slipped into his clothes, picking them up as he walked across the room - trousers on the floor, undershirt hanging from a chair back, button down resting half-hazardly on the dusty chest near the door.
Breakfast was coffee and cold biscuits, like it always was. He hardly noticed the taste as he stood on the porch. Already his mind was filing down the list of tasks that needed doing. The cattle needed to be moved to the south pasture, but he'd have to replace the fence posts beforehand. That was a morning's work, at least.
Emmett rubbed at his jaw with a weathered hand. He was eager to start, but as he turned to deposit his cup inside, a little blur in the distance caught his eye. Emmett squinted, just making out the lines of a buggy as the speck moved closer. He tensed, straightened to his full height.
Of all the mornings...
With a set look, the man stepped off the porch and waited until the wagon drew close enough for him to call out to it's driver.
"You ain't welcome here." Subtlety had never been his strong suit.