Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

“I’m surprised Zadok went along with it.”

“He didn’t want to at first. But once he saw all the things people wanted to give him-things he had always wanted, but never could afford, he came over to our side.” She paused. “I guess you going to help all those people wasn’t so bad after all. We’ve obtained more stuff in one day than you would have earned in a year at any job in town. Even after we split our take with Ira and Dekar, we could go somewhere and maybe buy a place like the one we used to have.”

A part of me saw the logic in what she said. And if someone other than Myra had made the observation, I would have agreed with them, not bothered in the least. But something about hearing my daughter speak like a cynical old woman pained me. It was a complete contradiction to the way I knew Lasha would have wanted her to behave.

“You know your mother wouldn’t approve of hearing you talk like that.”

“Probably not.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it?” she snapped. “I loved Ma, but helping people out of the kindness of her heart without expecting anything in return didn’t help her, or us.”

I nodded to Ava who she continued to fuss over. “You’ve been taking care of her. She never did anything for you.”

She paused as if I raised a point she hadn’t considered. She pulled away and sat in the other chair.

“I guess I’m just doing it as a favor to you,” she said after a moment.

“How so?”

She nodded to our interlaced hands. “It’s obvious how much she means to you. And even though I still think it was dumb what you did to Jareb at the plantation, you meant well by trying to help us. Plus, Zadok hasn’t been this happy since before we lost the farm. Consider me taking care of her as payment for what you’ve done for him.”

But not her. .

I changed subjects, hoping that by doing so the room might warm from the ice-cold words of my lovely daughter. “So, I guess people no longer believe you and Zadok are cursed?”

“Some still do. Those who are still loyal to Jareb think the eruption was all our fault.” She leaned back in the chair, stretching. “But in the eyes of those we healed, how could we be cursed when we’re apparently the children of a god?”

She had a point.

Doing anything she could to continually show her appreciation, Dinah brought us a hot breakfast of porridge, sausages, and biscuits. Abigail carried the biscuits. Looking at the smile she wore, I’d have never known that just a few days ago, the little girl had been near death. Her current condition gave me some much-needed hope for Ava.

Little Abigail came around a second time with the basket of biscuits and I made sure to snatch up my share before Ira hoarded them. Dinah hadn’t prepared anything complicated for us to eat as of yet, so I wasn’t sure how far her culinary skills extended. However, with another bite of biscuit, it was obvious she had a firm grasp on the basics.

Seeing the relationship Abigail had with her mother and the way she enjoyed helping her, made me consider the life I might have had if not for the war. I imagined Myra and Lasha with that kind of bond, and my heart grew heavy. The image didn’t last long. Even my imagination couldn’t hold a picture of Myra being sweet and carefree when her sour demeanor was in my face.

With everyone’s mouths and hands full of food, Boaz’s wife picked up the trays and headed for the door. Abigail surprised me by running over and giving me a hug, squeezing me with more strength than I would have given her credit for. Then she ran out of the room.

Dinah smiled back at me. “She can’t stop talking about you, Tyrus. She calls you her protector and prays for you.” She looked at all the stuff people had given us lying around the sitting room. “Some people think you’re a god or one of their agents. But to Abigail, you’re just her hero.”

She closed the door and left before I could find the words to respond to that. How could I have responded to someone calling me their hero?

“Well, Ty. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that you’ve been my hero for as far back as I can remember,” said Ira. I could tell from the sound of his voice he was trying to hold back a chuckle. “Something about the way you eat your biscuits like you’re doing now where the crumbs park themselves on your lips, or how you look like you’ve been on a weeklong drinking session when you first wake up every morning. All of that and so much more give me the chills. I am in awe of you.”

Dekar snorted between bites of sausage.

I wanted to be angry, but couldn’t stop myself from chuckling. That was what friends were for. They brought me down from my perch before my head started to swell. I set my food down long enough to rub at the sleep in my eyes and remove said crumbs from my face.

“Are you ready to start going through all this stuff?” asked Dekar.

I eyed the stacks of crates, overflowing sacks, and random goods that didn’t fit into the numerous piles Ira had grouped the items in. Too much of it seemed worthless. “Not especially. There’s a lot of junk here.”

“Junk?” Ira bent down and began rummaging through a sack. “Look here. We’ve got some winter blankets, a good hunting knife, some good wooden bowls.”

I’d moved to one of the crates. “Yeah, and we have dress clothes none of us will ever use.” I held up a shirt with more ruffles than any man had business wearing. “And here’s an old, rusty saw, a hammer with a broken handle. . What are we going to do with those?”

He shrugged. “They can’t all be winners. Some people might not have as good of stuff to give away as others do.”

“Or some just used this chance to unload their garbage on us.”

“It’s not all garbage,” Dekar said. I faced him, hearing a bit of rare excitement in his voice. He pulled out a carrying case used to hold the game pieces for Crests. He opened it and smiled. “I’ve never seen a complete set before.”

“See,” began Ira, “even Dek sees the promise here. When’s the last time you saw him actually show some emotion?”

He was right. Dekar was so busy examining the game pieces he didn’t even bother with giving Ira a response.

“He can keep the game and we can keep some of this stuff if we need it, but I don’t want to accept anything more.”

“Even if it’s coin?” asked Dekar.

“Huh?”

“I didn’t tell you but that mayor dropped by when you were out last night. Looked like it nearly killed him to muster up the strength to make it over here from the Soiled Dove.”

I winced at the name. “What did he want?”

“For you to finish healing him. He had a nice sized bag of money with him, but I turned him away.”

“Why would you go and do something like that?” asked Ira.

“Because Tyrus was still out. And considering the mayor had been one of the main people trying to kill us just a couple days ago, I didn’t want to make a decision on my own about whether it was all right to heal him.”

“You could have just plopped the mayor down next to Ty while he slept.” Ira faced me. “You wouldn’t have been upset with some coin, right?” he asked.

I was unwilling to entertain the question. I asked Dekar. “I thought the mayor was Jareb’s man.”

“He is. Or at least was. He didn’t handle the sorcery as well as many others in Jareb’s camp. And the doctor hasn’t been able to speed up his recovery. Apparently one’s commitment wanes while suffering in pain and soiling oneself. I guess he finally had enough.”

“But not enough to totally turn his back on Jareb?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said he came while I slept which was in the middle of the night. When you told him no, I bet he went right back to Jareb.”