her father’s blessing to leave this blessed ranch long enough to get some
peace of mind.
“Let Ben wake her up some mornings. Let Daryl clean her,”
she’d pleaded. Weren’t they around enough after all? Two bachelors set to
inherit the family’s work, well dammit they could inherit this part of it as
well.
Tired, she trailed a hand over the splintery fence, letting it bite
at her palm. Summer wind hugged the edges of the mountains, the tang
of manure wafting toward her. She followed a well-worn path, thinking
of the week ahead, of her escape via long-haul trucking, of the glistering
Pacific Ocean she hoped to see when she stopped off at California, at the
edge of everything she knew and loved.
When she saw the giant egg, it came to her as a bright glint in the
brush by Brown’s pond, its smooth metal surface reflecting the dying light
like a jewel. She approached it cautiously, as if sneaking up on a dozing
animal, one she had no business nearing—a wild coyote, docile looking
enough when asleep but once woken, mean to the bone and ready to
bite. What she expected to find, she didn’t know. Another version of
Old Edith waiting to emerge? Or perhaps something worse? Her heart
dropped at the thought of Daryl’s fixed stare, his eyes suggesting just the
hint of pride. She imagined what he claimed to see, herself on the back of
a horse, silhouetted against a burnished sky on the ridge top, conquering
her fear, being something better, something more than she was. A feeling
hot and fast coursed through her, a hate so big it lasted less than a second.
She peered over the cracked lip of the egg.
Billy Jr. lay curled inside, fast asleep with chin tucked into chest.
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. She felt numb again at every
extremity. So, Billy then? Like mother, like son. It was hard not to
acknowledge the lift in her chest, the sudden relief that unpocketed itself
and made her fiercely happy that maybe Daryl had seen wrong.
Billy Jr. opened one eye, squinted, then opened the other. His
forehead was a washboard of confusion. “Another book?” he asked
eagerly.
Sylvie moved her body so that it shielded Billy’s face from the
sun’s violent last throes. “What, Billy?” she asked softly; sweat beaded
along her hairline and the first of many fists grabbed her stomach and
took hold.
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