Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 289

Chapter 289: Traveling buddies
Ford found a tentative place amongst the family. Grandpa accepted his presence readily, as did Daniel. Anaisa, similarly, expressed gratitude for his place with them.

Seth was the only one who showed open hostility, and Mia seemed to be actively avoiding him.

Ford had tried more than once to talk to her, but she either found an excuse to move away or Seth found a reason to interrupt.

There was awkwardness, and Ford didn’t know what to do about it.

She’d claimed him as a friend, back in the canyons. Before the cave. Before he’d hidden from her and stalked her family like a crazy person. He grimaced. Even he recognized that his behavior had not been ideal…

Why did he care what she thought of him now? He’d grown to tolerate her, respect her, even. Feel protective of her. The indifference she showed now stung a little.

No, not indifference. If she was indifferent, she wouldn’t avoid him.

After watching Grandpa teach Daniel to field dress the antelope, and other wilderness skills, something had awakened in Ford. An eagerness to learn.

So, instead of focusing all his energy on trying to figure out what Mia’s problem with him was, Ford turned his head to absorbing as much of the old man’s knowledge and skills as he would share.

The older miners shared their knowledge with the younger ones only to the extent that it benefited themselves. Efficiency for tasks that required teamwork. Basic safety so that shift didn’t get interrupted by a young man’s idiocy causing a collapse.

Grandpa, however, seemed to delight in teaching. Every minor accomplishment of Ford’s shined in the old man’s eyes as if he’d done it himself.

Ford’s chest ached with some unnamed feeling at the approval he received. And so, he sought more knowledge. Whittling, for one. Fire starting, for another. Animal care. Grandpa even promised to teach him a little archery with Seth’s hunting bow once the bruises on Ford’s ribs faded completely.

When he’d seen the old man with a string and a hook, Ford felt the compulsion to join him. This looked like something he desperately wanted to learn… well, most of the skills Grandpa had, Ford found that he wanted to learn. Wanted to be a man as good as any other. He approached cautiously and cleared his throat as Grandpa stood on the river’s edge.

“Sir? May I join you?” He asked evenly. The old man had told Daniel that men always spoke up, and never mumbled.

At times Ford strongly suspected that many of these instructions were given within earshot for his benefit, rather than the boy’s. It could easily have been demeaning, except that Ford had never gotten such instruction before, and found himself increasingly desirous of it.

Manhood in the mines was nothing more than toil and survival. There was little honor and none of the majority of the qualities Grandpa spoke of.

If Ford had the choice, he wanted to be a man like Grandpa described. And since the man was willing to give these lessons away for free…

“Sure, let me get you a line,” The old man grinned as if he’d invited Ford to join. He narrated as he spoke, which seemed to be a habit of his. “I don’t know how Foundrel people fish, so let me know if anything seems weird to you. I like to use worms for bait, they’ve always worked best for me, but it’s more of a preference…”

In this way, the old man taught far more than an outsider would immediately suspect. He spoke as if to someone with equal knowledge, but kept his words simple enough to be easily understood.

It touched something deep in Ford to be treated like an equal at the same time that he didn’t have to pretend he knew more than he did. Like a sponge, he soaked in the information Grandpa conversationally distributed, using different anecdotes of his own mistakes as teaching tools folded naturally into conversation.

Ford was learning just as much about how to respectfully interact with others as he was about fishing itself. He held the pole that Grandpa attached the line to at the proper angle, and cast the hook out into the deeper part of the river.

Closely imitating the old man, he didn’t let too much slack form in the line, and waited.

Patience, Grandpa insisted, was key to fishing. Ford believed him, so he allowed his mind the privilege of wandering for a few moments as he waited for some unfortunate fish to bite on his hook.

His gaze drifted over to where Mia and Anaisa were gathering cattails along the river bank. Mia had shed her shoes and stockings, letting her bare feet trail in the shallow water as she talked quietly with her aunt.

Lifting a hand to brush back that stray lock of light hair that always escaped her braid, Mia glanced at him as if sensing his stare, and quickly looked away. Like she always did. It irked him and hurt him at the same time.

He suppressed a sigh and turned back to his pole just in time for a solid YANK on the line to demand his full attention.

“Oh!” He breathed with surprise, and Grandpa moved smoothly up beside him.

“Good job, keep his head up, don’t let him slip the hook,” The old man encouraged. “You’ve just got to–”

Ford, too excited about the fish to listen too closely, pulled on the line as hard as he was able. It was a fight back and forth. Either his ribs impeded his strength more than he thought, or the fish was quite a large one!

When he pulled again, a silvery streak flew from the water and smacked Grandpa directly in the nose. The flabbergasted expression across his grizzled old face as the man fell into the water was too comical for words.

As soon as it was clear the man wasn’t injured, Ford burst into boisterous laughter.