Lifting my hand, I give him a silent wave before we make our way toward the counter. I don’t miss the glance that he gives Birdie, or the way his gaze lingers on the expanse of her chest a moment too long. Clearing my throat, I bring his attention back to me.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his own voice a bit raspy.
Pressing my lips together, I inhale a deep breath to keep from saying something that would no doubt be uncouth. I need him, and his store right now, I cannot afford to cause an argument about something so insignificant as a woman’s chest.
“I have about two-hundred men showing up at my place imminently. I need food and supplies as soon as possible for them, you will help me?” I ask the question, but it isn’t a question.
He will help me, he has no choice and if he cannot with what he has in stock, he is tasked to find a way, without bothering me with tedious details.
“You know that I will,” he says reassuringly, though I can see the doubt in his gaze.
I don’t call him on it, I don’t demand details, instead, I dip my chin as I take out some money from my pants front pocket.
“This is an advance for whatever you need. We’ll square up on delivery?”
“Yes, sir,” he breathes.
Turning my head, I am surprised to see that Birdie has wandered off. She isn’t far from me, but she’s studying something intently. Closing the distance between us, I touch her waist gently, standing behind her.
Birdie turns her head, looking back at me from over her shoulder. “It’s a peppermint stick candy,” she whispers.
“It is.”
She fingers the candy for a moment, then turns to face me. “We have another stop? We can’t have come all this way for just a few moments in one shop, or have we?”
Her blue eyes look different. I’m not sure what is going through them, but I have no doubt that whatever it is, it’s significant and has to do with the candy. Lifting my hand, I reach behind her and take the candy, then hold it between us.
“Take it,” I say.
She starts to shake her head, but I only let out a snort. “It’s not expensive, take the candy.”
She nods once, lifting her hand and taking the peppermint stick from my fingers. She doesn’t offer an explanation of why it’s important to her, but I don’t ask either, at least not yet. Birdie follows behind me as we make our way out of the store and head down the wooden walkway toward our next destination.
Abraham’s dress shop.
I have a few choice words for him.
“Thank you, Colt,” she says, breaking our silent stroll. I don’t say anything and she continues. “When I was little, my grandfather made it a point to always buy me a peppermint stick candy. My other sisters don’t care for it, but peppermint has always been and will always be my favorite, probably more because of my grandfather and the memories than the actual taste. Seeing it, it just reminded me of him, of home. So, thank you.”
I say something that is probably not what she even wanted me to get out of her reminiscing moment, but I say it anyway. “You’re home now, Birdie. This is your home.”
“Is it?” she asks softly, as if she doesn’t believe what I’m saying to her.
Though, why should she? I spent last night telling her that she would never have all of me, and this morning I ignored her. I don’t stop walking, but I do give her what I can in the moment. It isn’t much, and if the tables were reversed, I would probably think that I’m a terrible man.
“It is. The gods have deemed it so. There is no going back, Birdie. What they have created, what they have set into motion, you cannot change.”
BIRDIE
I’m not surprised by the darkened dress shop when we enter. However, the sight of the filled jewelry and hair comb case has my immediate attention. I shake off the conversation of just moments ago, the one where Colt made it clear that I would not be going home, though how he thinks he’s some kind of expert in this stuff, I do not know.
If there’s a way for me to get home, I’m going to find it. If there’s a way for me to find my sisters, I’m going to do that too. What I’m not going to do is sit around here and be Colt’s… whatever I am.
It’s clear to me, that although the prophecy says we’re meant to be, that he has decided otherwise and that is too sad for words, so I refuse. If he can’t see me for who I am, if he only sees his dead wife, then I can’t stay here, not willingly.
“You’ve dressed her like a soiled dove,” I hear Colt say on a low hiss.
I close my eyes, trying not to let him know that I’ve heard his words. Abraham clears his throat. “Sir, I asked you if she was your mistress or if she would be someone different. You made it very clear that she is your mistress. This is how fashion dictates a mistress dress,” he calmly and very softly explains.
We’re the only people in the shop, but it’s obvious that neither of them wants me to overhear their conversation, too bad it doesn’t matter where I stand, I will still be able to hear every word that they say. It’s not like I can physically turn my hearing off and they’re not being quiet.
“How can I have her on my arm looking as indecent as she is?” Colt asks.
“So, the rest of her garments you’d like me to dress her as a proper lady, one that is to be at your side, as yours?” he asks.
There is a moment of silence. Colt doesn’t answer immediately and
