Day Four-Twenty-Eight: Pleas and Threats

My departure for Libby's little camp met with some resistance today. Resistance and questions.

The first person to come looking for me was Harold. I was at Morris' farm, asking to borrow his wagon and horses. Morris is a good-natured kinda guy, and he immediately agreed. He was getting to know Eve (or, rather, getting to know her again - he held a healthy fear of my little girl back when we were guards, and who can blame him?) when Harold strode up and asked for a minute of my time. We stepped aside while Morris played a nervous, one-sided game of peek-a-boo with Eve.

"What's up, Harold?" I asked, eager to get away from him.

"I was wondering if you could get your wife -"

"Libby."

"Huh?"

I looked away. "None of that 'wife' stuff. Dunno where we're at in that. Just call her Libby."

"Oh…" He looked equal parts saddened and elated at that news. Harold's always had a crush on Libby, from the first time she grabbed him by the collar and threatened to yank his ears off. "Well, er, I was wondering if you could get Libby to send, say, ten of her workers back for next week. We really need extra planters in the fields -"

"C'mon, Morris, you know I quit that stuff. I told you the other day. I just live here now. You're mayor."

"I am NOT mayor!" he huffed. "I never WANTED to be mayor, and unless I'm voted in - which will not happen - I won't BE mayor! Everyone still wants you, Dragomir! Why are you leaving us high and dry?"

I pointed at Eve. 

"But she's awake! And… I figured, now that she IS, and you have more time on your hands, maybe -"

"I'd take up my old spot?" I shook my head. "What's the point? You've all got it handled. Y'don't need me. Hell, maybe you don't even need a mayor. Lookit this town, it's springing up like crazy now that I'm not making decisions. Got a church underway, a mill, fields bein' plowed… once I stopped pretendin' to be important, Pubton really took off."

"That's not true," Harold insisted. "You had the idea for living in the pub, and you dealt with Pagan, you caught Evangelina, you drove off those shadow things -"

"No I didn't," I murmured, though I refused to elaborate. I have no idea how to broach the subject of Grayson's weird influence on the townsfolk.

"But you gave us hope! We wouldn't be here without you! We still need you, Dragomir!"

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Then give me a job. Make me a guard again, or something. I'd be fine with that. But not mayor. That's yours. Hey, Morris, ready to hook up the horses?"

"But Dragomir…!"

I walked off. There was nothing else to say, and Harold knew it. Eventually, looking like a big mope, he slunk away to see to the wall.

Those were the questions. The resistance came in another form, on the edge of town, as Eve and I were setting out.

"HEY!"

I turned in my seat, urging the horses to a stop. (I've gotten rather good with horses, gotta tell ya.) My dad, of all people, was striding up beside the wagon.

"Where the hell ya think you're goin', numbnuts?"

"Hey, language." I motioned to Eve in the next seat over. She'd shuffled behind me, hiding from her grandfather. "What do you want, dad?"

"An answer." He clung to the side of the wagon with his little wooden hands. "Where the hell do ya think you're goin'? 'n what the hell have you been on about lately? Not mayor? Givin' up a cushy job like that for no good reason?"

"I've got a reason." I patted Eve on the head.

"BullSHIT!" He scowled, rocking the wagon. "Ever since Robert died ya went downhill. I had damned hopes for ya. I thought you were changin'. You were doin' an okay job, 'least as good as old Cannonbottom. But now? Handin' the reins to that limp-wristed pansy Harold? He doesn't even WANT the fuckin' job!"

"Language!" I clamped my hands over Eve's ears. She blinked but said nothing, 'cause, uh, she still hasn't said anything period. "I made my mind. Pubton doesn't need me. Eve does. Cripes, you make it sound like I'm skippin' out on the whole damned town. Now, if you'll EXCUSE me, I gotta take my daughter to see her mom."

I spurred the horses forward. Dad let go of the wagon - but he wasn't done talking, not yet. Hell, by this point he was howling.

"YOU LEAVE AND I'M TAKIN' OVER. YOU HEAR ME, YOU USELESS SHITE? I'LL BE MAYOR. I KEPT THREATENIN' YOU WITH TAKIN' OVER TO MAKE YA ACT LIKE A MAN, BUT NOW? I'LL FUCKIN' DO IT. TURN THAT WAGON 'ROUND OR I'LL DO IT, DRAGOMIR, I SWEAR TO GOD."

I didn't turn around.

Eve and I are parked beyond the foothills. I expect we'll reach Libby's camp before lunch tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to the meeting - last time didn't go so well. But, maybe, with Eve… with Eve here, awake, alive… maybe Libby and I can learn to be civil.

I hope we can.

I miss her.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Father