Stephen and Ben came inside also to change horses. They were big enough now to ride and do some herding themselves. Watching them learn to rope and brand was something the whole family enjoyed. Jake smiled at the fact that they were wanting to be men in the worst way. He and Lloyd sometimes had trouble convincing them there were certain things they still weren’t ready for, which included carrying their own six-guns, something Jake flat-out refused to allow.
“Don’t waste too much time, boys,” Jake told them as he threw a blanket over a gray-spotted Appaloosa. “We have to get back out there.”
“Yes, sir,” Stephen answered.
The boys unsaddled their horses a little too quietly, and Jake glanced over to see them whispering.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
They approached him rather hesitantly. Stephen met Jake’s gaze boldly, as though he needed courage. “Grampa, you let us hunt, so why can’t we learn to shoot pistols? You’re the best there is. You could teach us really good.”
Jake was not oblivious to the boys’ attempts at flattering him into letting them have their way. “Stephen, I don’t intend to discuss it. And besides that, I’m not the one to ask. Ask your father.”
“He always says I should ask you.”
Thanks a lot, Lloyd, Jake thought. Lloyd was just as hesitant about his son using a six-gun as Jake was, but Jake had even deeper reasons than just the danger. “Stephen, I can tell you for a fact that knowing how to use a gun can bring you a lot of heartache. And you and Ben are still way too young for handling pistols. They’re a lot more dangerous than a rifle.”
“Is it true, Grampa?”
Jake heaved the saddle onto the horse, then turned. Both boys stood facing him, eyes wide with curiosity. “Is what true?”
Stephen shrugged. “You know—about the way you used to live. About your own pa and all that? Nobody will let us read the book Jeff wrote about you. Grandma and my pa say you have to tell us when we can read it.”
Jake studied them, remembering when Lloyd once asked him about his past, and he’d refused to tell him. His not knowing had led to tragedy when Lloyd was older and learned the truth the hard way. “Stephen, why are you asking this now? We’re in the middle of herding and culling and branding.”
Stephen’s eyes actually teared. “I don’t know. I just thought it had something to do with why you won’t let us use a handgun. I’m sorry I asked.”
“We’ll get our horses saddled.” Ben spoke up with urgency in the words. His eyes showed an odd fear Jake hadn’t seen there before.
Ben turned to go to another stall.
“Ben!” Jake spoke up. “Stay right here.” Jake left his horse only partially saddled and walked out of the stall, ordering the boys to sit down on some stacked hay. They looked at each other, then obeyed. Jake walked over and knelt in front of them. “What’s going on?” he asked them.
Ben swallowed. “Nothing.”
“And you just looked at me like you were afraid of me. What did I tell you the day I took you from your father and adopted you?” Jake asked Ben.
“You said…I’d be your son, and nobody would ever hurt me again.”
“And did I keep that promise?”
Ben nodded, tears brimming in his eyes.
“Then why did you just now act like you were afraid of me?”
Ben quickly wiped at the tears. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid something bad will happen to you ’cause of you killing all those men a couple weeks ago. Sometimes we get scared when you act like that, but nobody tells us why you can get mean sometimes. You’re never mean to us.”
Jake had never felt so touched. The boy’s remark about being afraid for him was the epitome of all he’d ever wanted in life—love and family. He wondered if he would ever get used to these feelings, and he knew it was time to tell his grandson and Ben things he’d rather not talk about. He reached over and pulled a nearby crate closer, then sat down on it, facing the boys. He lit a cigarette.
“All right.” He took a long drag on the cigarette, hoping he could do this without visiting that dark place that usually took over when he had to talk about his father. “It’s really hard for me to talk about these things, boys, but you need to know that everything you’ve heard about me is true.” He rested his elbows on his knees, keeping the cigarette between his lips. “When I was your age, I’d been beaten too many times to count by a father who instilled in me the idea that I was worthless. I’d already witnessed him murder my mother and my little brother.” He paused to keep his voice steady, taking the cigarette from his lips. “He…uh…he made me help bury them.” He struggled against the sick anger.