Page 28 of Crystal Iris #1

Twenty-Three

“The most seductive thing about art is the personality of the artist himself.” – Paul Cézanne

I regret every sip I had the night before when my alarm rings.

I know I’m under no obligation to show up, but I still have my pride.

When I said I was going to be there, I meant it—a promise to myself, made many years ago, not to be like my father .

I will follow through with my responsibilities, no matter what.

Broc is already busy when I arrive, even though it’s six sharp.

“Morning,” I say to him.

“Coffee?” He hands me a jar, and I pour myself some. There’s no cream or sugar, but I drink it anyway.

“You seem unaffected by the alcohol,” I tell him, sitting on a bundle of hay.

“Just used to it,” he replies.

I look around and ask, “What time do they wake up?”

“Between four and five,” he answers.

“Okay... so, what do I do?” I ask, setting my cup down.

“Here.” He hands me a brush. “I’ll take it easy on you today.”

I’m brushing the second horse when Hoyt shows up.

“What are you doing?” He eyes my outfit—I’m wearing my own boots with Johanna’s overalls.

“Working,” I tell him, brushing Jet in long, even strokes, just like Broc showed me.

“Iris, you don’t have to… do this.”

“I want to. I need to.”

“Iris.”

“Like it’s my home, remember? I’d have chores if it were my own house.”

“I didn’t think you’d take it as…”

Broc walks back with water for both of us.

“Broc!” Hoyt says, gesturing to me.

“You’re my boss, but she’s yours,” Broc replies, walking off to check on something else.

Hoyt opens Blackwater’s door and leads him outside.

“I’ll see you later,” Hoyt says. I watch as he rides away.

I know we’re both still processing the words from last night.

I walk away from the barn when my hands start to ache. I don’t know how many hours of work I plan on doing each day, but I figure it’s enough for today. I head straight to the bathroom. I stink.

When I come back downstairs, Hoyt waits for me in a chair.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“Sure.” I sit down across from him.

“I’m sorry, Iris. I should have told you. All of it.”

“When we were at the museum, you said... you could talk to me. I thought you meant it.”

“Iris…” He starts to move closer, and when I inch back, he backs off. “I did mean it,” he says. “I’m just not used to... I’ll do better.”

“Okay.” My short words aren’t convincing. I’m not convinced.

“I will… do better,” he says again.

“Okay,” I repeat .

I’m hoping he’ll invite me to do something together, go somewhere, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says he has a meeting with the lawyers. I nod and walk upstairs to read.

I text him an hour later. Laundry?

He tells me where the machines are, though he mentions Rosinda can do it for me.

Rosinda? I ask.

She will be around today and tomorrow to clean and do the laundry. Leave whatever you want washed in the hamper in the closet.

Rosinda is the absolute nicest person I’ve ever met.

I want to get up and help her, but I know I’d only offend her.

Hoyt tells me she’s been working for them since he was a kid, that she took it personally to care for him and his siblings when his mother passed.

I understand she’s more than a housekeeper.

She holds my hands and tells me it’s good for Hoyt to have me here. She ends with, “He’s lonely.”

I call Akira and read some more, only stopping to eat.

Hoyt stays busy all day, but I know he’s home. His truck is still outside.

I find him in the study, hunched over papers, wearing glasses.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

He looks worried. “Of course.”

“Everything okay?”

“Same bullshit—government wanting what’s not theirs, lawyers wanting more money, horses needing more care… you know.”

“Can I help with anything? ”

“You already are.” He motions to my red hands. He takes his glasses off and throws me a pair of gloves. “I was going to bring these upstairs for you.”

“Thanks.”

I look around the room. I haven’t been here yet.

Hoyt’s wooden desk is across from the window, where two brown leather chairs sit.

Like every room in this house, there’s a stone fireplace.

I wonder what Montana’s winters are like.

A large map of the country fills an entire wall. Red pins mark certain locations.

“What’s with the pins?” I ask.

“Our lands. My lands. Dad used to teach me where they were with the map.”

I eye the pins, taking in the immense amount of territory he owns.

“That’s a lot of land,” I say to him.

“Yeah. It’s a lot of headache too.”

“You seem… stressed. Let me help.”

He motions for me to sit down. “Iris, you’re here to relax, remember?”

“Hoyt, please. I want to help… help you.”

He takes another look at me and hands me a stack of papers.

“Fine. Can you read these and let me know if I should sign them or not?”

“What? How would I know?”

“I trust your judgment.”

I take the papers from his hand. “Okay.” I sit down in the leather chair by the window.

I read the papers while Hoyt works on the computer, stepping in and out of the room to make phone calls.

I realize the extent of his responsibilities as I read the contract in front of me.

APL wants his permission to lay pipelines in a certain section of his territory, and if he says yes, the people who live on the edge of it will have to move—people I assume don’t have anywhere else to go, people who don’t know what rights they have.

Nonetheless, the pipeline is supposedly a necessity for the nearby town.

I’m almost halfway done reading when he asks me to take a break for dinner.

I walk to the kitchen when he says, “Let’s eat outside. You can show me what the prism does with the dirt.”

We take our pasta bowls to the grass by the water behind his house. He spreads out a blanket, and we sit there, eating and talking.

“This is delicious, thank you,” I tell him.

“My pleasure. I prefer to cook when I’m not eating alone.”

“The pipeline—what do you want to do?” I ask him.

“I don’t know. It’s not the first time I’ve had to make this kind of call. Only, I don’t know who to trust, who’s telling the truth, and who benefits from me saying yes or no.”

“You don’t have anyone to advise you?”

“I do, but they always push for what makes me money. That’s what they did with my dad. I worry they’re not considering the human lives. I’ve made… mistakes before.”

“We could go there tomorrow and see it in person, who lives there,” I say, twisting my fork.

He chews his food and says, “I’m usually advised to stay away.”

“I think it’s worth seeing it for yourself.”

“You don’t mind coming along?”

“Of course not.”

“Nine o’clock?”

“Ten. I’m gonna need a shower after… work.”

He laughs. “I didn’t think I’d hired you when you said you were coming to spend the summer.”

“I like to work.”

He puts his bowl aside. “Now show me what it does.” He gestures to my necklace.

I put my bowl down and awkwardly lean closer to the grass. The prism spins. I pull up, and it stops. I get closer, and it spins again.

“What does it feel like?” he asks, intrigued.

“Like it does when it’s wet. Like it’s waking up.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. I wish we knew… someone else who could tell us anything about them.”

“I think my mother knew.”

I look at him. “Why?” I ask, curious.

“Remember I told you she used to sing to us? Before bed? One of the songs, I’m pretty sure it’s about the prisms.”

“Let me hear it.”

He coughs. “I think I remember something like this.”

“Little dew drops, come down and wash my fears away

Let it fall, let it dry, let me say goodby e

Little shiny treasure, you hold more than you know

The secret to your power lies in the unknown

Seven sparkles separated by men

Always attracting, wondering when

Together, the unforgiven omen

Little dew drops, numb the heart

Let it fall, let it dry, let me say goodbye

Little shiny treasure, you hold more than you know

The secret to your power lies in the unknown

Six senses, they say

Yet one more is hidden away

A rainbow of colors, they sway

Little dew drops, come down and wash my fears away

Let it fall, let it dry, let me say goodbye

Little shiny treasure, you hold more than you know

The secret to your power lies in the unknown”

“You think ‘little shiny treasure’ is the prism?”

He shrugs. “I wish she had told us about it—what they were, if we ever found them, to keep away.”

“You were only five, Hoyt, and your brother six.”

“Still.”

I let out a yawn.

“I’m sure you’re tired after last night.”

“Yeah, and work on the ranch starts early,” I say with a smile, taking our bowls inside.

“Night, firecracker.”

“Goodnight.”

I’m reaching out for the brush when Broc says, “I need your help with their teeth today.”

“Their teeth?”

“We need to check for sores, swellings, or pain around the mouth, throat, or along the jawline.”

I watch what he’s doing.

“Also, let me know if you smell foul breath or see any discharge from the mouth or nose,” he continues.

“Don’t they have a vet for this?” I ask, a little grossed out.

“Yes, but it’s my job to know when to call for the vet.”

I move like him, looking for anything unusual, something that could perhaps be an issue.

“Are you and Akira still talking?” I ask as I check Elmwood, probably the cutest foal there is.

“Kind of, more like me texting her and her ignoring me.”

“She can be… tough to get through. Keep trying. ”

“See this”—he points to Lumberjack—“he’s kind of chewing slow, favoring one side of his mouth. I gotta really look in there.”

I watch as he expertly opens the horse’s mouth.

“I think one of his teeth is longer than the others, come see.”

I walk over.

“It happens sometimes — their teeth naturally wear down from chewing rough fibers.”

“Does it hurt him?”

“Probably a little; horses are great at hiding pain, though.”

We continue checking each horse. Fortunately, it looks like only Lumberjack needs help.