Albion Way

Our muse took us for a short road trip away from MEC, probably because being shut up in the house with either one of us can be a bit difficult

We'd like to post this story today with a special hug for our friend Knox, a sweet forum member, who knows why. 

So off we go! (Or maybe not....) 

Enjoy! 

R&R 



Albion Way


He’d spent about forty minutes walking up and down the porch with the phone, dealing with the several and in all honesty fairly trivial issues in Milan that the junior CEO that ANZ had sent out there did not appear to be able to do anything productive about.

Paul brought him a mug of tea out at one point, balancing it on the porch rail near him. Dale, crouching by the pots of herbs as he pointed out the obvious flaws in the package being negotiated, gave him an appreciative smile and went on picking the withered leaves from the thyme and the sage plants with his free hand, breathing in the familiar and clean scents as his fingers brushed the leaves, looking at the snow caps on the mountains on the horizon and assessing how what would be required to strip down and recover the window frames along this wall and the kitchen and study door for proofing this fall. When the junior CEO finally sounded as if he had the confidence to return to the deal, Dale accepted the transfer of the phone over to the head of the corporate being worked with; an older man and a pleasant colleague that Dale had worked with several times in the past few years, and finished off the final details.

Paul came out to sit on the swing as he was ending the call. Dale turned off the phone and sat down beside him to drink the tea.

“That should be the end of that one. I don’t think they’ll call back.”

“I do enjoy hearing you tell people off in Italian.” Paul said placidly. “What did they need?”

“Honestly? A few prods to get a grip and think.” Dale drained his mug. He had mostly finished the yard chores when the call came. Riley and Flynn were in sight in the home pasture, the dogs streaking ahead of them. Jasper was re filling feed bins in the corral with Hammer and Gucci rubbed down and turned loose and nudging to get under his elbows and eat as he handled the big sacks.

Dale gave the stables a sweep out since it became dusty at this time of year in good weather when it wasn’t in use, and then swept off the porch and refilled the water troughs while Flynn and Riley dealt with the horses. They took turns with the shower and set the table around Paul while he finished preparing dinner and ate while they swapped notes about the varying points of their day apart.

“So Italy’s just feeling insecure?” Riley summarised when he got the gist of ANZ’s query. He and the others took a steady interest in any fragments of work that came in day today, whether it was ranch based or ANZ; Dale never ceased to appreciate it or to be slightly surprised by it since it was usually tedious stuff.

“More or less. It’s a young CEO with low experience, and it’s a corporate I’ve worked with a few times.”

“Did you ever ring anyone else for help in your early days?” Riley leaned on the table with one elbow, voice casual, eyes dancing at him. Dale picked a little off his bread roll and flicked it in his direction.

“Yes. Constantly.”

“Liar.”

“How’s the heifer with the stitches?” Paul asked Jasper, who paused between mouthfuls of the spiced pork and salad they were eating.

“Better. There’s no sign of infection today but I’ll clean it out again tomorrow.”

“That reminds me, we’re almost out of antiseptic solution,” Riley added, “I saw we were down to the last couple of bottles this morning. I’ll pick some up in Jackson tomorrow when I get the feed delivery.”

“And salt, we could use another half dozen salt licks. The shires go through them like buzz saws.” 

“They’re on the list. I’ll go via the store over on Albion Way and get the giant ones. They like those.”

“If you’re going in there, don’t come back with another dozen horse toys.” Flynn warned. Riley grinned at him.

“They have good stuff. Leo loved the cone.”

“They fought over the cone. I had to go down and take it away from them at two am when the bickering got rough.”

“If we got them one each it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Flynn shook his head. “If I catch you with any more cones or more armfuls of plastic junk you’ll have the problem of not sitting down for dinner, halfpint. Your choice.”

“Mean.” Riley said without heat. “Anyone else want anything while I’m there? Dale? Want a cone?”

“No,” Dale leaned helpfully out of the way to let Flynn get to Riley, “I think I’m sorted for cones thanks.”

 

 

 

            The late spring weather was pleasantly cool at night. Dale fell asleep easily in the soft breeze from the open window, turned against Flynn’s side. When he jerked awake it was with a start, as if there had been some shout or sound outside. His heart was thundering, sweat was breaking out across his shoulders and palms, and for a moment he listened hard, wondering what had woken him. The house was peaceful and silent. Outside there was the occasional voice of a horse or sheep, but they were the normal quiet, night-time murmurs, not the sounds of animals with concerns. Dale took a few slow breaths and listened some more. Nothing. No clue as to what had startled him. Flynn’s hand found his back, Flynn’s voice was soft behind him, but Dale knew Flynn would be feeling the thudding of his heart under his palm.

“Dream?”

“No. I thought-” he trailed off, with no real idea of what had happened. Flynn leaned up on one elbow and listened with him.

“You thought what?”

“….I don’t know. That I heard something.”

“The phone? Fax?” Flynn knew his proclivity for hearing even the soft sounds of wires activating. Dale didn’t need to consider that hypothesis to abandon it.

“No. I’d know what that was.”

All was quiet outside. Dale slid towards the edge of the bed and Flynn followed as Dale made a brief check on Paul and then Riley. Both were sound asleep. Jasper’s bed was empty; that was not at all unusual on a fine night, but Dale stood in his doorway for a moment, concentrating until he was as sure as was possible that the feeling had nothing to do with him. Behind him, Dale heard Flynn pad softly down the stairs. He was back a moment later, large and calm with the planes of his bare chest reflecting slightly silver in the darkness.

“He’s left the back door on the latch. The stove and boiler are fine, everything else is locked up and the dogs aren’t out of their beds.”

They had an entire alert system out there. The dogs let them know in no uncertain terms if anything happened outside during the night that they didn’t approve of, and the corral horses equally made plenty of noise if they were suspicious or interested. If the dogs weren’t even up and about in the yard then nothing was outside to be concerned about. In the interests of thorough elimination of all possibilities, Dale checked the phone and slipped quietly upstairs to check the fax machine. Nothing. Both, as he’d known, were devoid of any activity. Flynn was waiting for him on the landing, and put a hand in the small of his back, guiding him back to bed. Dale lay down with him, looked up at the ceiling and tried to clear his mind. And stop his heart thudding out of his chest since it was still going strong. Sometimes if he could blank his thoughts, just be and not interfere, information got clearer, but there was nothing. No feeling of an email they needed to see, no feeling to go and shut a gate or to check a lock, and those kind of minor urges were usually clear and dispassionate enough that he found himself just knowing to do them without really having to think about it.

Flynn’s hand rested on his chest over his heart, then Flynn took his arm and pulled, and Dale turned over far enough to let Flynn tug the t shirt he was wearing off over his head and toss it across to the chair. Dale lay down in his arms, bare skin to bare skin. Flynn was cool from the night air, the hardness of his chest and the scent of him deeply familiar.

“Anything on your mind?” Flynn said in his ear.

“No.” Dale said it with certainty and without hesitation. “No, nothing I know of.”

Flynn’s hand rubbed slowly on his spine. “Take some deep breaths.”

“If you like I’ll go and get a paper bag to breathe into,” Dale said with some irritability. The hand on his back slid lower and patted, firmly.

“Breathe, and I’ll keep that in mind.”

With an effort, Dale made himself stop and take a few deep, slow breaths. It slowed his heart slightly. Flynn went on rubbing in slow circles, his voice rumbling under Dale’s ear. “Anything you can think of that might have triggered a panic attack?”

“That’s what you think it is?”

“That’s what you’re telling me you think it might be, if you’re talking about paper bags.” Flynn said without heat. “Think it through, kid. Things can sneak up on you, we know they do.”

“I honestly can’t think of anything.” Dale sorted rapidly through the last forty eight hours, all of which had been usual and tranquil and…

Fine. Good days.

“No, nothing. The Italy business was nothing, it was a casual chat. I’ve been fixing fences and moving sheep around the past two days, it’s been all as usual.”

And yet there was still an overpowering sense of something wrong, something to be alert about. He was still shaking slightly, he could feel it. Sweat was cooling on his skin.

He’s right, by process of elimination it probably is a bloody panic attack. So get a grip.

Annoyed, Dale shut his eyes and intentionally slowed his breathing, forced his body to relax and mentally focused on grounding himself. The deep pressure of Flynn’s hand on his back, the cool of the sheets beneath him, the movement of the mattress. It helped somewhat.

Neither of them returned to sleep. Dale because whatever was triggering his body to run on high alert was declining to shut up and stop it, and Flynn because it had to be impossible to try and get some rest next to someone whose heart was apparently trying to run a marathon on its own. After around twenty minutes of that, Dale lost patience, pulled away from Flynn and sat up.

“Look. This is ridiculous, you get some sleep. I’m going to get dressed and shift the rock pile. Maybe that will stop it.”

It would at least burn off the adrenaline. And be tiring and distracting. And painful, because you’ll make sure it is, because you’re getting angry with yourself. Which is not helpful.

Flynn took his arm, the yank was a strong one and it turned Dale directly over his knee, and the swat was hard and very well placed. And if Dale were honest, he’d more than asked for it.

“Corner. That one. Hands on your head.”

Slightly ashamed of himself, Dale took up the corner, which their room possessed due to specific arrangement of the furniture for his benefit, and which Flynn made good use of. Flynn made no further comment. Linking his hands on the top of his head with his butt stinging hotly from that swat, Dale shut his eyes rather than stare at the wall and made the effort to stand straight and still, very aware of Flynn behind him. This was a physical challenge, but rather a different one to hauling rocks. And with it, slowly but in a wave, came the usual sense of acceptance that he was not the one making the decisions. The sense of handing over and letting go all responsibility, and the usual following wash of deep relief. It was a form of meditation he’d always, reluctantly, found rather useful.

Flynn left him there a good twenty minutes and approximately forty seconds by Dale’s calculations. Long enough for his arms to be complaining and his knees starting to ache from the stillness. Then Dale heard him get up from the bed.

“Dale.”

Dale turned to face him. Flynn jerked his head at the door.

“Let’s go.”

Dale couldn’t read his expression, but his stance suggested that doing anything but obey him, quite quickly, was not a good idea. Not quite sure what he had in mind and more than slightly aware that this might be a short trip downstairs to the study since Flynn’s tolerance for temper and messing about in the middle of the night was not high, Dale walked ahead of him. Instead of the stairs though, Flynn steered him into the bathroom, closed the door and turned the shower on. He made no comment, just stripped them both and took Dale with him under the stream of water, turning him so the water fell on Dale’s shoulders. He’d set it to hot, the kind of hot that soaked out muscles at the end of a hard day, and he put his arms around Dale’s waist and held him there, so the only option left was to surrender, lean into the familiar planes of his chest and let the water fall. There were several minutes of silence under the spray in his arms, Flynn’s head against his, Flynn’s arms hard around him holding him still, skin to skin and breathing the steam, and then Flynn nudged his chin up and Dale gladly enabled him in several deep, hungry and demanding kisses that searched his mouth. It was never possible to kiss Flynn and think about anything other than Flynn; particularly considering Dale’s entire mind and body tended to rather irresponsibly hurl aside every other consideration but Flynn given a third of a chance. It was a deeply, powerfully physical comfort that melted the last of the tension away to flow down the drain with the water. Then Flynn turned off the spray, grabbed a towel and rubbed them both down in the same brisk and efficient manner he tended to rub down a horse and which scoured Dale’s neck, shoulders, back and behind to glowing, and took them back to bed.

Sleep came quickly after that.

There were still restless dreams. A number of them came in quick succession where Dale found himself vaguely looking for something or trying to work something out without having all the information but knowing it was a problem. He woke when Paul went downstairs, the usual signal for the day starting, and it was almost a relief.

Flynn stirred when he got up, but it was their usual routine and he didn’t object. Dale still held strong suspicion that he was likely to be sent back to bed after breakfast: making up sleep lost to chewing, obsessing and other forms of overdramatic enactments of stress was one of the many immovable boundaries Flynn held. Dale shaved, aware and monitoring as he did it that it was only once and that no other impulses or compulsions or obsessions were involved. They weren’t. The only thing he was aware of, constantly, was a strong feeling of dread, of anxiety, as if something awful was going to happen. Not a call to action but a solid brick wall of trepidation.

Which was ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake it.

Frustrated with himself, Dale wiped down the sink, dressed and went downstairs quietly enough not to disturb the others. Paul would be putting the bread in to bake and doing the other small chores he began his day with, which usually included a pot of tea, and this was time that he and Dale usually spent together. This morning, as he got halfway through the family room, his eyes fell on the garage door ahead of him and his heart jolted again, as hard as it had in the night to wake him. It was hard enough to stop him dead.

Albion.

It was the one word or coherent thought that came to mind; crystal clear and as strong as if someone had said it aloud. And instantly all the sensations of dread consolidated and came together in one rush, focused towards that word and the garage. It was overwhelming.

Dale stood for a moment more in the silence of the empty family room, alarmed and trying to frame it into any kind of coherency. The ranch tended to send its signals to him like this, frequently without clarity or support like some kind of mad cryptic crossword and however he racked his brain and tried to focus it, it got no better than a dread – an overwhelming and horrible wall of fear.

So why? Don’t give me half the information and leave me with the mess of it! David, are you there?

There were times he could make that connection. This morning there was nothing. No help of any kind.

David, please, for pete’s sake help! Is this information? Is it something I need to do? And if it is, how the hell am I going to explain it? Or is this random panic that I’m letting get out of control and I’ve just found a focus to put it all on?

At this point, he really had no idea. At all.

 

 

*

 

 

            Dale had an outstanding line in no, I don’t intend to talk about this that took natural talent and extended it to genius level. He walked into the kitchen this morning looking poised, immaculately tidy, and bearing all the signs to Paul of a bad night. A cup of tea and ten minutes to cuddle and talk first thing in the morning always mattered a great deal to Dale, and Paul took his time over it this morning, gently nagging the details out of him until he was able to talk about middle of the night showers without looking as if they ought to be court martialling offenses. By the time the others came downstairs it had taken effect and Dale was looking less tense and he ate a fairly good breakfast, albeit to begin with in the determined Look At Me Being Fine way that made Paul take his fork away from him and Flynn explain that his choices were to can it or to go and stand in the kitchen corner until he felt more like canning it.

Riley, sympathetic to middle of the night panic attacks and with an eye on the time as it was several hours to Jackson, grabbed his wallet and jacket as soon as he’d finished eating, kissed Paul on his way past, gave Flynn the required promise of driving with due care and attention, and headed out to the garage. The rest of them, still eating bacon rolls, heard the splutter and an odd whine from the jeep. It was repeated. Then Riley reappeared in the kitchen doorway, swapping one set of keys on the hook for another.

“The jeep’s dead. Might need to check the battery when I get back.”

It happened. A couple of weeks could pass between one of them taking a jeep out, and the batteries needed checking regularly to manage the time they spent standing in the garage. Riley disappeared again. Paul, finishing his roll, lowered it at the second splutter and whine.

“Both of them? They can’t be that bad, I took one over to Clara the other day to pick up the sutures she ordered for us.”

They heard the jeep hood pop. The points were kept in the garage to recharge batteries; it was something they all knew how to do. Paul was about to take Riley another cup of tea to fill the time while he waited for the battery to charge, when Riley reappeared in the doorway.

“The battery’s fine. On both of them, I checked. I can’t see what’s wrong but I can’t get either of them to start. Dale, will you come take a look?”

Dale, who had long since become established as the most successful mechanic the family possessed, got up. Flynn however looked across at him as he got up, and then put a hand out to stop him. “Hey. What’s that expression about?”

“What expression?” Riley demanded. Paul, looking with Flynn, could only see grim and slightly wired in Dale’s jawline; both characteristics that tended to go with too little sleep. Jasper, leaning on the table and drinking tea, looked too. Then he got up and went into the garage. Flynn kept hold of Dale, waiting. Jasper was back a moment later and he leaned on the door frame, long and casual and his soft voice calm.

“The plugs are missing on both.”

“Missing?” Paul looked to Flynn and then Dale in bewilderment. “If that was what you heard last night Dale, someone messing about in the garage, why would they-”

Jasper held out a hand to Dale, palm upwards. “I’ll take them please.”

There was a moment’s silence. Paul looked at Dale, shocked. Then Dale said stiffly and very politely, “No sir, I can’t do that.”

“You can’t do what?” Riley said, confused.  

Flynn turned him by the hip and Paul watched Flynn check Dale’s jeans pockets, then look up at him. “Where are they?”

Dale didn’t answer. Less, Paul could see, because he didn’t want to, than that he couldn’t find any appropriate or polite way to say it. He looked trapped, determined and very slightly panic stricken.

“You disabled the cars?” Riley said, sounding completely baffled now. “Why would you-”

“Halfpint, come sit down.” Flynn interrupted before that got any further. “Dale, give those plugs to Jasper. Now.”


“No sir, I won’t.” Dale said it quietly but promptly, and he meant it. 

Paul knew the expression. Flynn knew it too and he was watching Dale with a whole lot of thoughtfulness. Paul turned his chair to where he could better see Dale’s face.

“Ok. So you decided that taking the plugs was necessary. Tell me why?”

“Just say it, kid.” Flynn said when Dale hesitated. “It’s all right. Any part of it, start anywhere and we’ll work it out.”

“I can’t explain, because it’s insane.” Dale gave them a steady look, one after the other direct into their eyes, and it was somewhere between despairing and the kind of determined he got when he was really, seriously upset about something. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I really am.”

“Are you serious?” Riley said in disbelief. Dale gave him a short nod.

“Very.”

“Now tell us the part of it you think is insane.” Flynn had hold of Dale’s hand and he hadn’t let go. “This is to do with whatever happened in the night.”

“I have an extremely bad feeling about the cars and about Jackson, and in particular, Riley driving to Jackson.” Dale said very shortly. “There you are; that is it. That is all. No further information, no specifics of any kind. I apologise but that’s all I can tell you, I don’t know anything else. I very much wish I did.”

There was another moment’s silence in the kitchen.

“So because you have a bad feeling about me going to Jackson, you went into the garage and broke both cars?” Riley summarised. “Well that’s normal. That’s really a good way to start the day. I have stuff I need to do today you know-”

“Just Riley going to Jackson, or any of us?” Jasper said from the doorway, across what promised to become a tirade. Dale looked across at him.

“I can’t be sure. Certainly Riley in particular.”

Jasper nodded slowly, absorbing. “So if I drove to Mac’s ranch, would that be ok? Take a moment. Think how it feels.”

“I….. really don’t know.” Dale sounded somewhere between tired and frustrated, and Paul’s heart went out to him. “I’ve been trying and I can’t distinguish exactly if it’s focused on Riley or the cars or the place in Jackson. But I have no idea if this really is something important or it’s just me randomly obsessing because of a panic attack last night – I have no idea. I’m very sorry, but I have no idea.”

“But it’s bad enough for you to make sure there’s no chance of Riley leaving the ranch today.” Flynn confirmed, and it was a tone that took hold of and calmed the slightly despairing note in Dale’s voice. There was a pause where Flynn and Paul and Jasper discreetly exchanged glances, and they reflected together on what on earth to do. Then Flynn leaned on the table and looked at Dale. “Right. If you feel this strongly then I won’t let Riley drive today.”

“You what?” Riley said hotly.

Dale looked down at Flynn, and Paul saw his eyes; the overwhelming relief and the deep thank you for that act of trust.

“I agree.” Paul said to Dale as much as Riley. “Dale, go unbreak both cars please, then bring us the keys. Yes,” he added when Dale hesitated, “you don’t control us by taking over and you know that. You tell us what the problem is and then you trust us. That’s how it works. Go on, love.”

Dale went. Not willingly but he went, and Jasper went with him. Riley hissed in sheer exasperation. “He has some random feeling that my driving today is a bad idea so I can’t drive?”

Flynn reached over to snag Riley’s wrist and pulled Riley over into his lap, wrapping him enough to prevent a further outburst although to Paul’s eye, there was as much reassurance in it as restraint.  

“This is not fair,” Riley muttered savagely, “I had plans today,”

Flynn squeezed the arm around his waist. “I know, and I’m sorry. But there’s no essentials we need in Jackson that won’t wait until tomorrow.”

“So he just says and I can’t?”

“Wait a minute.” Paul ran a hand through Riley’s hair, moving to sit next to him and Flynn. “Just give it a minute and we’ll sort this out. I know you’re angry.”

“You said you wouldn’t let me drive today, how is that sorting it out!”

Flynn didn’t answer, waiting. In the garage, one engine started, then the second. They heard the sound of hoods and doors close, the sound of the locks engaging and Dale emerged with Jasper and handed the keys to Flynn.

“Sweet.” Flynn said, pocketing them.

“Sweet what?” Riley demanded. “Flynn! He can get upset when one of us leaves, you know this happens-”

“How many times have one of us come and gone to Jackson or Clara’s or to the garage in the past month?” Paul interrupted gently but firmly enough to stop him. “How many times have you ever seen Dale ask us not to?”

“But he is right.” Dale said rather tonelessly. “That does happen, it is a fact. I become randomly obsessed with things at times; that is another fact,”

“No, you don’t. Occasionally you get anxious about not knowing when you’ve done something enough or right. I’ve never known you to focus it on one of us.” Jasper was standing close to him and he spoke with certainty. “I have known you, plenty of times, to know something that the rest of us haven’t picked up on, including when a piece of machinery is going wrong or when you need to be somewhere or to do something, and you’ve been proven right. Riley, do you agree?”

Riley cast him a grim glance that said yes he did, but he was not ready to admit it.

“So we need to take some time.” Jasper told him. “Dale, I want you to detail the cars this morning. Start there. Go over them, check there’s nothing about them that’s pulled your attention. We’ll see what else emerges and we’ll know more in a while. And I’ll do it with you, because put a level on this?”

Riley gave Dale a very pointed look.

Dale answered him immediately and quietly. “Level one. Manipulating or hiding things to control; not to mention up and down through the night.”

“Then let’s straighten you out on managing us instead of talking to us, and flat out disobeying Jas and I when we ask you to do something.” Flynn said. “Both of which you know are unacceptable. Go get me a paddle, kid.”

Riley looked up as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Dale went. He returned a moment later with the lexan paddle in his hand. Riley rolled his eyes skyward. Flynn took no notice of him, scooting his chair back to make enough room. He took the paddle from Dale and waited. Dale unbuttoned his jeans without expression and pushed them down, sliding his underwear down after them. Flynn turned him over his knee, settling him with his hands on the floor. Paul could see the tension in his neck and shoulders, most of which had nothing to do with the paddle in Flynn’s hand. Flynn pushed Dale’s shirt higher up his back and rested his hand below it on the small of Dale’s back. He didn’t lecture any further; just used the paddle to apply a short, but sound and thorough spanking to the bare bottom over his lap. It took less than five spanks of the paddle to shift Dale’s silence and the rigidity of his back, he was yelping and starting to twist almost immediately, and somewhat ragged but sincere and much more fluent apologies and commitments to behave followed in swift succession, not that they did much to distract Flynn. He didn’t stop using the paddle until Dale’s behind was one solid, warm red across his lap and promises had frayed out into tears. Which was most of what would do him good. Flynn laid the paddle on the table when he was done, giving Dale a minute to lay where he was, shoulders shaking, to catch his breath. Across the table Riley looked subdued more than angry now. Flynn helped Dale turn over, pulled him up into his lap wet faced and with any reserve yanked down, and hugged him as Dale’s arms closed around his neck.

“Stop with the bull. We will straighten this out, and Jasper, Paul and I will make the decisions on the available information. It is not your problem. Understood?”

Dale’s voice was unsteady but considerably calmer. “Yes sir.”

“Riley?”

With the lexan on the table Riley answered him swiftly and sincerely. “Yes sir.”  

“Then go tack up Leo and Snickers, we’ll check on that heifer and sweep up through the sheep on the other side.”

“Yes sir.”

It wasn’t happy, and Riley as he left didn’t look happy, but a long day spent riding with Flynn was never a bad day where Riley was concerned. Flynn put Dale on his feet and helped him to sort his clothes out.

“You, face that corner there until Jas calls you to sort the cars out. We’ll wait, we’ll see what happens.”

“And if it turns out I am just randomly making stuff up or being controlling?” Dale trailed off, sounding shaky but he looked considerably calmer and there was a frankness there now that there hadn’t been before. Flynn turned his chin up, bringing Dale’s face close to his and holding it there.

“If you are, then it’s anxiety. It’ll be for a reason, that reason will get clearer and we’ll handle that too. Either way, we are going to be fine. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Come here.” Flynn pulled him into his chest, giving him a crushing hug that went on a while. Dale gripped him back just as hard; Paul could see the clench in his shoulders. Flynn kissed him when he let him go, turning him towards the corner with a soft pat on his backside.

“Corner.” He pulled the car keys from his pocket and handed them over to Jasper. “Riley and I’ll be back mid afternoon.”

 

 

*

 

 

            Jasper backed the jeeps out into the yard and he and Dale spent the morning going over them one at a time. Paul, baking and working through the household chores, kept an eye on them out of the kitchen window. He saw them both sit on the grass out by the paddocks for a while and knew they were taking the time to ground, to centre themselves, to clear energy. After which, they started on the cars and Jasper seemed to be getting Dale to look at and talk him through each section of the car workings at a time. It was taking time, it was keeping Dale’s attention on him as much as the car, and they were unfastening bits and poking them, and cleaning them. Generally Dale looked as if he was finding it a useful thing to do; mechanics of any kind was usually something he could lose himself in for hours without difficulty. To Riley, this would have been a heavy consequence. To Dale….. no, this was something he often did for enjoyment, and it would be a practical way to act on anxiety too if that was the issue. And that would be the really hard part for him; the not knowing.

Jasper came in to wash his hands at one point, and having checked through the window that Dale was still occupied underneath the jeep they were focused on with a spanner in his hand, Jasper collected the phone and quietly dialled in a number.

“Hello? Hi Cheryl, it’s Jasper out at Falls Chance Ranch. We’re all good thanks, how are you? Yes. I was calling to ask, what are the roads like in Jackson this morning? Traffic all ok?”

Paul went on kneading bread, watching his face. Jasper nodded, absorbing whatever the Sheriff’s radio dispatcher was telling him.

“Ok. Thanks, just considering if we’re going to drive out today.”

He put the phone back and shook his head in reply to Paul’s look of inquiry.

“Nothing, all clear.”

“I’ve checked the local news sites a couple of times this morning on the computer.” Paul admitted.

“We’re most likely never going to know.” Jasper said simply. “I’ve had that conversation with him this morning. How are we ever going to know if he picked up on something that would only happen if Riley was on the road this morning in a specific place at a specific time? We can’t. He doesn’t have the experience yet to know any more than we do. Gifts like these aren’t convenient, they aren’t meant to be.”

“And he doesn’t get randomly anxious, there’s always a reason and a cause. We can always find the root of it.” Paul went on pounding dough, having given this a lot of thought this morning. Dale was right; it was a valid fear. Sometimes the worst explosions did come out of nowhere for him. But you could always find the trigger. And Jasper having left Dale under the jeep instead of insisting Dale came inside with him and stayed in arm’s reach said a lot too. Jasper was always acutely aware of what either of their brats needed to feel safe: if he’d truly thought Dale was struggling this morning he wouldn’t have walked this distance away from him. “Yes, that’s what I think too.”

Jasper paused to wrap an arm around Paul’s hips and Paul turned his head to kiss him.

“Do you two want to stop for lunch?”

“I’ll take something out and we’ll eat as we work, I’d rather keep him busy.”

“All right, I’ll bring a tray out in a while.”

Paul ate out there with them on the porch while they went on working on the cars, and when they were done the two of them did the yard chores together, Jasper keeping Dale with him which made everything take longer but getting things finished wasn’t Jasper’s priority. After which he took Dale to shower, and the two of them walked down to check the post box.

Riley and Flynn came in while they were gone. Paul took tea out to them in the yard as they were rubbing down the horses. Riley looked his usual self, he looked up over Snickers’ back with his usual cheerful smile. His temper while it tended to burn bright in the moment, usually blew itself out fast. Riley rarely had difficulty in moving on and seeing a more balanced picture, and if Paul had to guess, Flynn had made thoroughly sure that Riley had had the chance to rant himself out and talk himself into a better frame of mind.

Flynn paused in checking Leo’s hooves and straightened up to stretch his back. “Dale been ok?”

“Quiet, but yes. They didn’t find anything on the cars.”

Riley snorted. “Yeah well the deer I would have hit at ten oh seventeen by the fourth tree to the left of the eighth rock isn’t there anymore, so the problem’s over.”

“You think that’s what it was?” Paul asked him. Riley went on rubbing Snickers down in long, hard strokes that Snickers was leaning into and blissing out over.

“Of course it was. I was mad about it this morning but he doesn’t mess about without reason. No one else may get the reason, but there always is a reason.”

Jasper and Dale rounded the corner together with a couple of letters in Jasper’s hand that looked like circulars rather than anything interesting. Riley ducked under Snickers’ neck to start on his other side.

“Hey. If I was going to take a jeep out and drive to Clara’s place right now would that be ok with you?”

Dale, who had looked rather stiff and as if he was apprehensive about how angry Riley still was with him, looked towards the jeep and Paul saw him consider it. Carefully, thoroughly.

“Yes. Not a problem.”

“And run it up and down the drive and to the landing place?”

“Yes.”

“And out to Pinedale?”

“Yes.”

“And into Jackson?”

“You don’t want to go to Jackson now.” Dale said almost automatically. Riley paused and nodded at Paul.

“There you go.”

“It was the word,” Dale said a little unwillingly, as if he expected this to sound too foolish to share. “Albion. That was the word that hit me this morning when I saw the garage. That store.”

“Only because you were worried I’d come back with a trunk full of cones and Flynn would strangle me.”

It was a gentle attempt at teasing, but Dale shrugged, rather bleakly. “That’s as possible as anything else. I really don’t know.”

It was really bothering him. Multi billion dollar deals and international complexities, easy. He handled those without effort. Responsibilities like this? Not anything like so straight forward, never where the ranch and its people were concerned or where he felt a duty through the gift he had.

“Can I go to Jackson tomorrow?” Riley asked Dale. “Anything in you saying to freak about that?”

Dale looked at the jeep again. “No. That seems to be fine when I think about it. I can’t promise not to change my mind in the middle of the night.”

“I guess we’ll see.” Flynn let Leo go with a pat to his neck. “Turn Leo into the corral for me.”

Jasper walked with Dale down to the corral to open the gate. Paul jogged up the steps hearing the telephone in the kitchen, leaving Flynn putting tack away and Riley still grooming Snickers, more now because Snickers loved it than anything else.

“Hello, Falls Chance Ranch?”

Flynn came out of the stables and closed the door, brushing off his hands. Paul came out onto the porch and leaned on the rail waiting for him.

“That was Cheryl from the Sheriff’s office.”

“And?”

Paul looked across the yard, waiting too for Jasper and Dale who were coming to join them.

“Jas rang her earlier to ask about the roads in Jackson today.”

Dale abruptly stood slightly straighter, like a man before a firing squad. Paul looked down into the silver-grey eyes, gentling his voice.

“She just called to say if we’re still planning to drive out today to stay away. A store delivery truck opened its doors in the car lot on Albion Way around lunchtime and found a chemical container it was carrying had exploded. It’s all over the tarmac and the fumes went over everyone in the vicinity. There’s a few ambulances there, all the store staff and customers are having to go to hospital to be checked over. The police have sealed off the road and the fire service are trying to figure out how to get the chemicals safely up off the ground.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Riley shook his head.

“Wow.”

Dale turned and would have walked away towards the garage except for Jasper who stepped in front of him, and put his hands on Dale’s shoulders. Dale braced against him; Paul saw his hands against Jasper’s chest to fend him off. It didn’t move Jasper an inch. Jasper cupped a hand behind his head, talking steadily and very gently.

“You acted on the information you had. There was nothing more that you could have done.”

“You can’t be upset that you were right?” Riley said in dismay. “Come on….”

Jasper held Dale where he was, not letting him go. “It’s the first time you’ve felt anything like this. You had no means of understanding it better or knowing more.”

“You can’t feel responsible for anything that happened!” Riley left Snickers and came to them. “Dale, you can’t,”

“People were hurt.” Dale sounded grim, “What is the point of this if I don’t – I knew something was going to happen, I knew where,”

“Really?” Riley put a hand on him, close to shaking him, “You did? Because for the longest time all I got from you was a general idea of something about not good for me to go. You never said where or why or what time. So tell me again how you knew all that?”

“I knew you shouldn’t be there.” Dale said with difficulty. “Albion, I had that word. I knew I didn’t want you near there or near the jeep.”

“And that was all you had? So you were going to call who and say what? I’ve got a bad feeling about that street?”

“Riley, I’ve shut down plenty of buildings before now.” Dale gave him a flat stare, one of his ice stares and they rarely saw those aimed at them. “If I wanted a street shut down, a street would be shut down.”

He meant it. Riley shook his head, seriously and with affection.

“On a feeling so vague you broke the jeep so we’d just not go out today? You weren’t even sure enough of what was happening to tell us about it. Even if you’d closed the street the truck just would have opened up its broken load somewhere else, you can’t blame yourself.”

“Enough now. There’s nothing we can do about it from here.” Flynn jerked a thumb at Riley. “Take a head collar up and get Petra, halfpint; I dug a stone out of her near fore this morning and I thought she was bruising. Bring her down and we’ll soak her hoof.”

Jasper pulled Dale’s head against his and Dale returned the hug. Somewhat wearily but he returned it. Flynn nodded at him when Jasper let him go. “Go get your journal.”

He waited, hands on his hips, watching. Dale took the outside door into the study to retrieve the book off the shelf where it lived, and a pen, and brought both back to him. Flynn opened it to a fresh page. “I want a description, with a clear timeline, of what you knew and when. Take a seat on the steps.”

Dale climbed the porch steps and sat, gingerly enough to say he was still tender from this morning’s paddling. Jasper rested a hand on his head as he passed and went to feed the dogs.

Flynn, filling a bucket of hot water for Petra in the stable doorway, kept an eye on him and saw him sit, hands clasped in front of him with the pen between them, looking down at the hard earth of the yard. Flynn’s sharp whistle made him glance up.

“Stop chewing and write.”

It gained him a somewhat fulminating look. Flynn set the bucket down and crossed the yard to him. Dale raised his hands before he was halfway there. “Ok, ok, I’ll do it-”

Flynn tugged him to his feet with one hand and soundly swatted the seat of his jeans with the other before turning Dale to face him. “First time of asking, good attitude.”

That shook the iced look. Dale answered hurriedly and Flynn saw the hand twitch that was trying not to grab for his backside and rub. “Yes sir.”

“I’ll expect that done when I’m done with this hoof.” Flynn sat him firmly down on the step. “Get on.”

Riley was walking the matriarch of their shire horses over the grass towards them. Flynn went back to finish filling the bucket, added a heavy dose of Epsom salts to the water and glanced at Dale. His jaw was tight, but his head was bent over the journal and he was writing. Once he started, he would be unable to be anything less than brutally and factually correct. Petra came into the yard and stooped her great head to meet Flynn, nudging into his shirt front and hopefully whiffling at his hands. Flynn rubbed her nose and dug in his pocket to find a lifesaver which she accepted graciously as Riley tethered her to the rings on the barn wall.

“She’s walking a bit light on that foot but not exactly limping.”

Flynn patted Petra’s hip and clicked to her as he took her massive, shaggy foot. She willingly lifted it for him, let him grip it between his knees and gently prod around the inside of her hoof. “No heat, she’s less tender there than she was this morning. We’ll soak it and check again in the morning but that looks better to me.”

Petra stood with her foot in the bucket, serenely ignoring Boris and Raglan, the other two shires, who were hanging over their paddock fence and calling to her. Mostly in indignation that she was getting to go out and they weren’t. Flynn, crouching on the yard earth beside the bucket with a hand on her knee to steady her, glanced again at Dale. He was completely absorbed now. Wholly focused in what he was writing, committed to it. The way he committed, entirely, without guard or reservation to everything that mattered to him.

When Riley walked the now comfortable Petra back towards her paddock, the big shire pacing gracefully with her head looming above his, Flynn tipped the contents of the bucket down the drain, swilled it out, and went to sit beside Dale. “Let’s see it.”

Dale surrendered the journal, not too willingly. There were several parts where he’d annotated; Flynn could feel him itching to write out a neat copy. Flynn skimmed through it, nodding slowly.

“Good. Now you’ve written risk assessments and crisis analysis plenty of times. Show me where, based on that timeline within that information, you could have acted in a way that benefitted the driver of the truck at Albion Way.”

“I can’t.” Dale admitted. It was grim, he didn’t want to say it. Flynn tapped the page.

“All right. Where could you have benefitted the staff of the shops at Albion Way?”

“I can’t. Nor the bystanders. I know.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“I do.” Dale leaned his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together between them as if to stop himself taking the pen back and trying to make the evidence reach another conclusion. “It just seems wrong.”

“What seems wrong?”

“That I didn’t know more. That I didn’t make better sense of it.” Dale’s hands moved in a stifled, expressive gesture. “That I didn’t think more widely than just about me and mine.”

“Based on that evidence.” Flynn repeated. Dale looked back at the page.

“There is a responsibility that comes with this.”

“Yes. There is. You have a sense of service.”

“Yes.”

“And you tell me that in that service, you are the tool, and not the architect.” Flynn said bluntly. “That it’s need to know; you don’t get all the information. That your curiosity and your emotions about what you can know and how it goes aren’t a part of it. In fact you say they get in the way of you doing the job as it should be done.”

There was a long silence. Then Dale breathed out and it was a tired, defeated sound that went with him abruptly turning a little so his shoulder leaned against Flynn’s.

“I have never liked not knowing.”

“You would have liked to have been able to protect the people at Albion Way the way you managed to protect Riley.”

“After a great deal of ineffective faffing about.” Dale said heavily. “Yes. Very much.”

“Try that again.”

“You’re relentless.”

“I know I’m waiting.”

Dale ran both hands over his face and Flynn felt him lean more of his weight against him. “I am hideously embarrassed I actually…..”

“Took the plugs out of both jeeps.” Flynn finished for him. Dale made a faintly stifled sound from behind his hands.

“I’m sorry. One day I will stop panicking.”

“You will.” Flynn hung an arm around Dale’s shoulders, tugging him closer. “It’ll happen, kid. All of this will get easier with time and experience.”

He felt the give in Dale’s body against his; the acceptance of the truth in that. Then Dale turned his head to find Flynn’s mouth and kissed him, a brief and gentle kiss that said thank you. Flynn closed the journal and handed it to him.

“Put this away and come get a shower with me.”

The End

Copyright Rolf & Ranger 2021