The broken boy - healed by innocence

Finding his own way

*Cooper*

As the first hint of dawn eases through the windows, I awake, aching and sore, on the sofa. After stretching to work out the stiffness, I get to my feet and wander over to the bedroom.

Faith is still there, curled on her side, sleeping soundly. She is going to feel awful when she wakes, but I figure that won’t be for a few more hours yet.

I need to let her parents know where she is before they discover her missing and send out a posse to hunt for her. I know their routines, know they are already stirring. Not bothering to take the time to wash up, I simply saddle my horse and head over to the house.

Just as I had expected, Chase and Ma are sitting on the back veranda, where they always greet the day. I pull my horse to a halt, dismount, and wrap the reins around the railing before marching up the steps. They both rise, my mother approaching and giving me a kiss on my cheek as is her way.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Morning.” I tell them.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fine day,” Chase says.

Not for Faith. “I came over to let you know Faith is in my bed asleep.”

The punch to my jaw comes quick and unexpected, sending me reeling back, stumbling down the steps until I land in the dirt on my backside.

“Chase!” Ma yells, shoving the shoulder of the man who is now standing over me, fury darkening his features as he stands his ground, immobile against his Luna’s push.

“After all we have done for you, you take advantage of our daughter... Get up.” He growls.

I know another punch is waiting at the end of those balled fists, closed so tightly the knuckles have gone white. I shake my head. “Nothing happened. She came to see me, was drunk, got sick, and I put her to bed. I didn’t touch her.” A bit of a lie, but if I confessed to kissing her, I would be dead.

Breathing harshly, Chase stares at me. A myriad of emotions… anger, betrayal, disappointment, regret, remorse… shift over his features as his hands slowly unclench. His resounding curse echoes around us as he bows his head. This time when Ma shoves him, he backs away three steps. She kneels beside me. My hand shoots up. “I’m all right.”

I don’t want to be touched, not at the moment.

“I’m sorry, son,” Chase says, his voice coarsened by true repentance and shame.

“I’m not your son,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. “Your son is buried out by the windmill, and we all know that’s because of me.”

Because one winter night when I was a boy and a man had been rough with me in the alley outside the Grand Hotel, I had cried out, and Callista Moonshadow, swelling with child, had heard me and come to my aid.

The man, in a panic, had knocked a stack of crates onto her and injured her badly. She had lost the baby she had been carrying. If only I had possessed the courage not to scream, not to draw attention to the horror I had been facing.

“Copper…”

“No. I know why you reacted like you did. I don’t blame you. If I had a daughter and a man with my background touched her, I would kill him.” I say.

He shakes his head, “You weren’t responsible for what happened to you.”

“Still, it happened.” And it makes me feel dirty and ashamed. All the baths in the world couldn’t wash the memories away, couldn’t make me feel clean.

“Let your ma tend to your lip.” He says softly.

Touching my tongue to the corner of my mouth, tasting the blood, I shake my head. “I have to leave.”

The rightness of the words brings a calm. It's the only way I can make sure that what Chase fears would happen between me and Faith never happens. “I have to leave here, make my own way, become my own man. I will never be able to repay what you’ve done for me.” But leaving is a start.

With a great gust of a sigh, Chase drops his head back and gazes at the pinkish-purplish haze of dawn. “I struck you in fear, fear that my daughter might have gotten hurt and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

"I would never hurt her," I say.

"I know that." He says.

"We can talk this out," my mother says tenderly. "There’s no reason for you to go."

But there is. "I have been thinking of moving on for some time. To figure out what I want and what my place in this world is."

Chase nods toward the horizon. "When I’m gone, half of this ranch is yours."

The words strike me hard on so many levels. The price I would pay to have the land is the loss of Chase, and in spite of our present misunderstanding, I still love the man with everything in me. The fact that it is coming to me by default. "If not for me, you would be leaving it to your son."

Chase faces me squarely. "You are my son."

Overcome with emotions, afraid I am going to do something unmanly like tear up, I shake my head. "It should all go to Faith."

"There’s plenty for her." He says.

"I’m not going to take what rightfully belongs to your blood." I tell him.

Chase shakes his head. "I spent twenty years trying to ensure you felt like family, and I managed to destroy it all with one quick jump to a conclusion and a punch. I’m going to regret that for the rest of my life."

"You have got nothing to regret. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I have to find my own destiny, make my own way."

Chase chuckles low. "My brothers felt the same. I tried to corral them in and map out their lives for them, but eventually they broke free. I reckon maybe you’re right. It’s time to be your own man, not a shadow of what I think you should be. Later, we will go to the bank, get you some funds."

"No." I need to leave now while my jaw still aches, and I can vividly recall how it had felt to have Faith in my arms. "I have got enough money saved." And I want to do this on my own. "All I need is the horse, my saddle, and gear."

The hardest part is saying goodbye to the she-wolf I consider to be my mother. I hug her tightly, not sure where I find the strength to let her go.

Blinking back tears, she pats my cheek. "You write to me often, let me know where you are and how you’re doing."

"I will." I promise.

I stick out my hand to Chase, grateful when he gives it a firm shake. "There will always be a place here for you."

"Appreciate it." I hesitate, then add, "There’s no reason for Faith to know what happened this morning."

"How are you going to explain the swelling lip?" He asks.

I give him a small smile, "I will handle it."

I return to my cabin, grateful to find Faith still sleeping. Leaning against the doorjamb, I memorize every aspect of her. The tangled mess of her black hair spread across my pillow, the lithe length of her body curled on my bed. Her long limbs that I desperately want wrapped around me.

She looks so innocent in slumber, her thick, sooty lashes resting on her high cheekbones. The sun has bronzed her skin without leaving a single freckle behind. In my eyes, she is flawless.

I regret I am going to miss the flare of her temper when she awakes to find me gone. She is the most beautiful when her passions run high. But I don’t want to carry with me any bitter words that might arise between us, and if she sheds any tears, I don’t know if I could find it within myself to do what needs to be done. With a lonesome sigh, I leave her to her dreams.

After packing a few things in my saddlebags, I mount my horse and head west.