Chapter 24

"Oh, Beka!" Trance squealed excitedly. "You're going to look so beautiful!"

Beka scowled at the bubbly girl, the stiff, satin fabric she was smothered in, and the female deputy currently circling her with a mouth full of pins. "I feel ridiculous. Are you sure it's supposed to look like this? All these ruffles and lace and…and…stuff?" She picked disdainfully at the lace covering her shoulders.

"I'm pretty sure that's the point, Boss," Harper put in, looking up from the book he was concentrating on. "And, by the way, I agree with Trance. You do look pretty."

"Oh, and yours is the voice of vast personal experience," Beka shot back as Rommie wordlessly prodded her arm into a different position.

Harper shrugged un-offended. "Hey, I know what I see," he said sincerely, throwing her a real smile. Touched, Beka couldn't help but smile back despite the circulation-cutting-off torture ensemble she was currently trapped in.

Actually, if she was honest, she was enjoying herself. The pleasant sounds of a late summer evening drifted in through the open back door, and her little house was filled with warm lamplight and good friends. She'd never been a very social person; she was too busy trying to survive and fight out and existence in a society geared for her failure. A house full of friends was a new and rather nice experience. Rev had come by earlier to check on Harper and continue with the reading lessons. They'd only been at it for a short while when Trance and Rommie showed up to help Beka find something to wear for the dance, lugging yards of silk and satin in the form of ball gowns behind them.

Now they were all gathered in the kitchen munching on cookies and enjoying each other's company. It helped her push the fact that Bobby was gone again on "business" to the back of her mind.

"Hold still for a moment," Rommie ordered, breaking into her thoughts and turing her head back to face forward. "Let me pin this rose in place."

Beka glanced again with distaste to what she wearing and let out a grown. "Seriously, I don't think this is the dress for me, guys. There's too much…fluff."

Trance giggled slightly behind her hand while Rommie let out a long suffering sigh. Closing her eyes for a moment as she prayed for patience, the deputy finally opened them and glanced at the small pile of un-rejected dresses left.

"Okay, how about this one," she said slowly, holding up a light taffeta.

"It's pink," Beka pointed out.

"Yes, and it would look great with your eyes and your hair, and…"

"Rommie, it's pink," Beka repeated pointedly, as if that answered everything.

"I like pink," Trance offered helpfully.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Beka mumbled affectionately to the girl.

"Okay, no to the pink dress," Rommie sighed again, adding it to the reject pile as well.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Beka said. "Can't I just wear my best shirt and bodice and call it good? I'll even iron them."

"Beka, I am not letting you walk into that dance in red calico, ironed or not," Rommie said firmly, suppressing a shudder. "Here, how about this one," she added determinedly, holding up a dark blue satin.

Beka wrinkled her nose slightly. "Where am I supposed to strap my gun wearing that?"

"Your gun!" Rommie blurted, horrified. "Honestly, what kind of dances have you gone to in the past?"

"Well, what if someone starts shooting?"

"Rebekah, child, I should hope this town could manage to host a social event without gunfire," Rev couldn't help chiming in with a gentle smile. "Besides, even if you should find a place to attach your weapon, they'd just make you check it at the door."

Beside him at the table, Harper burst out in a fit of giggles over the mental image of Beka draped in blue satin, revolver strapped to the fluffy skirt.

"Hey, mister, you'd better watch it," Beka warned with a glare. "Remember, tomorrow night this is you standing here getting poked and prodded."

Harper's jaw snapped shut, the giggles instantly gone. In the moment of silence that followed, Woody let out a short, happy yelp in Beka's direction, wagging his tail enthusiastically and everyone laughed.

"Well, Woody likes the dress at least," Trance said, scooping the little puppy up into her arms and hugging him happily.

"Oh lovely, now I'm trusting the taste of a dog," Beka shook her head, running fingers through her hair. "Look, Rommie, I really appreciate all this, but…it just isn't me. I'd never feel comfortable in something like this, especially not in front of the rest of the town. I'm…I'm just gonna go change now, okay?"

Rommie nodded tiredly, getting up from the floor to let Beka past.

With Beka leaving and the excitement of the fashion show over, Rev felt it was an appropriate time to direct his pupil's waning attention back to the lesson before him.

"Master Harper, we still have three more vocabulary words to learn for the night," he suggested gently, pointing to the open book that sat forgotten on the table before the boy.

"Oh, right," Harper muttered sheepishly, picking up the book. Trance sat back on the bench beside him, Woody curled up in her lap, and leaned over his shoulder to read with him.

Carefully, Harper sounded out the letters he'd only learned to recognized a few days earlier, still rather astonished that they all worked together to make sounds and then words. The first one was easy. After only a few moments of muttering to himself he looked up at the monk triumphantly. "Just!" he said the word brightly.

"Correct," Rev Bem smiled back at him. "Do they use it in a sentence so you can know what it means?"

"Well, yeah, if that's what this long bunch of letters is. But I can't read all that."

"Not yet, Harper, but soon you'll be able to. Trance, perhaps you could help him out?"

Trance nodded, peeking back over her friend's shoulder. "Just," she read. "The cause of the warriors was noble, just, and true."

"Um, okay, whatever," Harper shrugged, not really understanding but too excited to get to the next word to care. This one was harder. It took him several minutes and a few whispered suggestions from Trance to get it right. Finally he read it hesitantly. "Repentankie?"

"Very close, Harper," Rev said with a little laugh. "The word is repentance."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that when you do something that is wrong, you feel bad and ask God to forgive you."

"Why?" Harper questioned, his expression genuinely puzzled.

"Because it makes you feel better," Trance added helpfully. "I know it always makes me feel better inside."

Rev, seeing that Harper was seriously curious and never one to pass up the chance for a little lesson, decided to elaborate a bit. "For example – there once was a man who stole something from his neighbor, a large sack of grain. He later felt badly about it, and turned to God, asking for forgiveness for his sin. That is repentance. Asking God to forgive you when you have done something wrong."

"But, was he hungry?" Harper asked.

"Um…I suppose so," Rev answered, a little thrown off guard by the question.

'Then why was it wrong? Gotta eat. God should know that. Besides, what does He care? I bet He's got much more important things to worry about than one sack of grain. I've stolen food lots of times when I was hungry. Never needed no repentance to make me feel better."

Rev sighed deeply. This was not going quiet the way he had hoped. He glanced over Harper's head to where Rommie was still gathering up sewing supplies and dresses, looking for a little help, but the deputy shook her head quickly, letting him know he was on his own for this one.

"You might not feel like you need forgiveness, but God would still like you to seek it, to repent and put your sins behind you," he tried to explain gently, sensing Harper's darkening mood.

"If God really was worried about me, He shoulda made it so I wouldn't have to be starvin' in the first place. Not gonna need no stolen food if I've got plenty to eat, would I?"

"I'm afraid that's not how it usually works, Master Harper."

"Maybe you should just try it," Trance suggested quietly. "Just tell God you're sorry and ask Him to forgive you for what you've done to Him. It might make you feel better."

Without warning, Harper's eyes darkened and a wave of anger and hurt flashed across his face. He slammed the book shut, jerking to his feet. "No!" he yelled. "I won't. He ain't never cared for me, why should I care what He wants? How about He tells me sorry for everything He's done? Everything He's taken away! Maybe He should repent!" Feeling the first sensation of traitorous tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, he turned and ran out the kitchen door, passing a startled Beka who had just come back into the room from upstairs in time to catch his last words. Woody immediately jumped from Trance's lap and raced out the door after his master.

"Guess I missed something," she said humorlessly, holding out the fancy dress to Rommie. Rev sighed heavily and sank onto the bench across the table from Trance.

"I'm sorry, Beka. He started asking questions about the words in the lesson, and I felt it was important to try and explain. I never dreamed he'd react like this."

"What did we say?" Trance asked, her eyes wide and her bottom lip quivering suspiciously. "What did he mean by that?"

Beka gave the girl a sad smile and a comforting squeeze of the shoulder. "I'm sure it wasn't anything you said. Harper just…just gets like this sometimes."

"Would you like us to leave?" Rommie asked tactfully.

"No, make yourselves at home. Put the coffee pot on. I'm gonna go check on the kid."

Beka found him in the cow pasture on the hill, sitting at the base of the lone tree with his back against the rough bark of the trunk, staring at the few stars starting to glow in the sky. Woody was curled protectively around his bare feet.

She approached quietly even though she knew he was aware of her presence. She knew from past experience she had to wait, let him make the first move. It unnerved her how young he looked sitting there, and yet how old – aged and beaten. She shivered – a reaction that had nothing to do with the slight chill of the late summer air.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked quietly after a while, not quiet daring to look at her as she settled on the grass next to him.

"No," Beka answered gently, "Although I think Rev and Trance and Rommie are a bit worried about you. I know I am."

Harper sighed and looked down from the sky to stare at the grass, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them. Beka could see clearly that he'd been crying, and to the rancher he looked tired, lost, vulnerable…

"It's alright to be angry, you know," Beka spoke again after a long pause.

Harper glanced at her briefly, then back to the stars. "What about you?" he finally asked. "Why aren't you angry with me? Ain't you about fed up with me? If you're here to punish me it's okay. I've been pushing it since I got here; can't believe you haven't done it yet."

"Harper," Beka sighed, "For the record, you haven't done anything wrong. And not everyone solves their problems with pain and punishment, okay." Gently, she placed her hand on his terribly thin shoulder, but he shuddered and pulled away.

"When I'm around they do," he answered bitterly, his eyes dark with memories.

Beka stared at him sadly, wishing there was some way she could help. His past was like a black beast trapped inside him, gnawing and clawing at his soul and forever causing him pain. How could a boy barely seventeen years old already carry so much agony trapped in his spindly body?

"Seamus," she said softly, hesitantly, "tell me. What happened? What did they do to you, this family you've hinted about?"

He was silent for so long she was sure she'd crossed that invisible line that surrounded him and their conversation was over. She was about to apologize when he spoke in a voice sounding extremely young.

"I knew from the moment I saw 'em that I didn't want to live with 'em," he all but whispered. "They were just…mean looking. All my guts were screaming at me that they weren't nice folk. Anyway, there were only a few of us kids left and I really wanted to go with one of those happy families, the ones who seemed so excited to get a new kid." There was a deep longing in his voice. "But people took one look at the beautiful tattoo on my hand and walked away. Except for this family. I was exactly what they were looking for; cheep labor no one would miss." He paused for a moment, shame crossing his face as he ducked his head. "You know they actually bought me, Boss, just like a slave? There was paperwork families had to fill out before they took their new kids home, so the orphanage could keep track of us and check up to see we were treated right and stuff, but my new "father" slipped the worker a gold dollar to forget that part. They bought me and carted me off where no one would ever find me or care."

"Who is this ambiguous they you keep speaking of. This family," Beka asked, wanting a straight answer, a name and location so she could ride out and maybe kill them. But Harper, perhaps still instinctively scared of being found dodged her again.

"There was "father" and "mother" and their two sons. The oldest son married about a year and a half after I got there. His wife was the only one who was ever remotely kind to me, but she was too scared of her husband and in-laws to really do anything to help me. Oh yeah, and don't forget Fenris, their beast of a watch do that liked to bit anything that moved, especially me."

Anger rose up hot and vibrant inside Beka, but she bit back the curses she felt like hurling, not wanting to interrupt now that Harper was finally talking.

"I was never allowed in the house; that was for family and guests – people – not trash like me. Got my own personal stall in the barn when I was good and…someplace else when I wasn't. I tried to be good, honestly I did, and I didn't really mind the farm work. I can work, been working all my life. I could have even handled the beatings, if they weren't too often, but it got so I couldn't move without irritating bruises or cuts. And when I realized the pigs were eating better and more often than I was, I decided heck with it, I'm gone. Got three farms away before they caught me that first time. When I could walk again, I tried again. After the third try they…um…sorta put me on a leash…" Beka noted he was absently rubbing his wrists as if feeling the echoes of not so distant pain. It was all she could do to keep from crying at the sight. "Guess," Harper continued, unaware of her fight with her emotions, "they were tired of chasing me and paying the blacksmith a little extra was worth it in the long run. Kept me there for five years so I guess it worked."

Woody, sensing his master's distress, whimpered slightly and pawed at his lap, asking to be held. With a few tears that he couldn't stop once again rolling down his cheeks, Harper instinctively gathered the little dog up in his arms and held him as if his life depended on it. "Boss," he whispered, desperate pleading in his voice, "I don't wanna go back there. Please don't make me go back!"

"Harper," Beka said with deadly seriousness, "I don't care if they have legal claim to you and a judge orders me to do it, I will never make you go back there, promise. Even if I have to fight to the death to stop it." She reached out and put her arm around the boy's shoulders, refusing to move it. He tensed for a moment and then suddenly he was sagging into her, crying, all resistance and projected toughness gone. Instead Beka found herself holding one very hurt, very neglected child and wishing there was something she could do or say to make it alright even as she knew nothing ever would.