OCsβΌοΈβΌοΈ I wrote this last year after mourning a holiday me and my family always spent togetherβ¦ (I moved out and had cut contact)
Price never spent holidays with anyone. He didn't have any interest in sharing moments. He realized that after a 4th of July party at the Garrison. The bustling of people, the lively halls, the drinking, the laughing, the fireworks. Maybe it was his lack of want for interaction, he told himself, brushing it off as a simple personality difference. Ignoring the lurking pit in his stomach.
The 4th was a very celebrated holiday in their town. Many families with law and soldier backgrounds lived along the railroad.
Sawyer had the day off, so naturally, he spent his time following the apple of his eye. Price stayed inside, resting off a back ache from the day before. Summer meant the colts were growing and needed doctoring, hoof scrapes, coat brushes and what not.
He was sprawled out on the couch for most of the day, while Sawyer watched over the ranch. Well, only If watching the ranch meant giving the show horses more treats than they were ever allowed to have in their career.
Soon, the lightning bugs infected the start of the evening, beginning the coupleβs plans they had set.
βHey! Firework!β Sawyer hollered from the front door. His horse manure and clay covered boots thumped through the hall, only to halt suddenly, remembering Priceβs shoe rule. βYou better not be wearinβ those work boots on my spruce floors-β
βYeah, yeah, slipped my mind.β Sawyer didn't dare take another step, so leaning from the hallway, he poked his head out into the living room. βLilβ Lady is all saddled up and ready. Didn' t want ya blowinβ your back out, mooooaninβ and grooooaninβ-β "Don't test me.β Price snapped back, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Price flung himself up with a loud groan. Soon, they were off on their mares to the Garrison for an independence day celebration.
It was early evening, around 7:30. The sun hadn't set yet as summer was at its peak. The evening went on, company slowly becoming sickening with the tinge on alcohol in the air, and drunk men flirting with the nearest young girl they could holler at. Price watched it all from the bar. He sat with the bartender, his old friend named John, watching Sawyer have lively and progressively more unhinged conversations with other bar regulars. Priceβs eyes stayed weighted but not unrested. He didn't realize how heavy his sunken expression was. βHeyβ¦β
Priceβs head snapped to look at his friend. The small word slicing the long silence in half.
They sat there, leaning on the bar, staring at each other. Priceβs troubled and distant stare met Johnβs concerned and puzzled look. His face asked the obvious question at hand.
βI don't know,β The rancher said, βSumβm ain't right.β Priceβs gaze drifted to the full shot of whisky on the counter.
βThis is the first year you've spent the 4th outside of your parentβs dear acreage." John pried, interrupting Priceβs βButβs and βWells Iβs. βAnd if I'm not mistaken,β
John picked up the otherβs whiskey, gesturing to Sawyer with a tip of the glass, then took the shot. βYer feller still calls you by your father's name.β βJohn!β The Price gasped sharply.
The twoβs eyes were locked. Johnβs expression didn't change while Price glared at him down with sharp brows and wide eyes.
Finally, Price huffed βI canβt. No one knows.β he punctuated his words before taking a breath. βThere ain't no use in tellinβ no one. It's on anyone's mind why my little olβ family left me that farm and-β βAlright.β John spat, βJust tell meβ¦ why, out of every special day, the fourth?β
John wanted to joke more. Maybe say βdid your poor hound dog run away cuzβ oβ the fireworksβ or βdid yer mama made you special hot dogsβ. Instead, he poured another shot of whiskey.
βWe used to travel.β Price began, his voice deep with memory. βMy mama used to pack the day before. Would brush off our western tack. She used the day to clean.β
His mind danced through memories. The hands of his mother roughly scrubbing and polishing a leather saddle. βShe was the most beautiful thing ever. I never had seen a prettier woman in my life,β
John laughed at that, glancing up at Sawyer, then back at his friend.
Price shook his head, a diluted smile on his lips. βMy dad went out huntinβ, always. Told me to stay and look after my maβ, help erβ clean. I never really helped, Iβd just watch her do erβ thing.β
Price was quiet, thinking, hearing his memories. A woman with silky black hair down to her hips, tied up in a pony tail, still long enough to get in the way. The clatter of dishes being put away, the clangs from the horse barn.
Price pulled his hair out from his kerchief. Long and black, being combed through with his fingers over his shoulder. βThat day was routine.β
John watched as his friendβs face lit up talking about his parents.
βWe know youβre a man of that.β Price laughed.
John was one of the only boys whose familyβs profession got passed down, along with Price. They're families meant a lot to them in these parts. Tradition was passed down like a routine ritual, required to be completed in order for one to feel fulfilled. John knew a thing or two. He felt it too.
The two sat there in silence, letting the waves of laughter and chatter flow over them.
Price began once more. βWe'd ride out the next morningβ¦ to uhβ¦ family further down the road. My aunts, uncles, cousins, all of em. No matter what we thought of each other, we'd spend the day together. Itβd be the same food, games, and peopleβ¦ Other than the lil additions to our family, down the line.β He laughed to himself.
βThen, the oldβuns got older. Time passed, the youngins scurried off to newer towns.β Price paused, exhaling, βThenβ¦ my parents-β John cut Price off with a loud sigh, βSo, it's the routine you're missing?β
βIt's the people, John.β Price whined, pulling his glasses off, sliding a hand over his face. βSame house, same date,β βBut your folks.β βBut my folks.β Price repeated with a sigh.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, smile fading when the gut wrenching feeling came back. His anxiety back in his stomach, climbing into his throat. βI've gotta go.β
John sighed as he watched his old friend pull himself back together. Price sat his glasses back on with a huff.
βHey, don't forget yer fella.β John laughed, brightening the mood a bit, between friends. βGive emβ a bit, heβll notice.β Price rolled his eyes tapping the counter, gesturing a goodbye to his friend, before he made his way out.
The night was still young, the sun had just begun to set over the trees. Price let his feelings sink in. Listening to the noises of the party summered down as he walked down the road. The sound of gravel crunching, his boot kicking the occasional rock on his way to his horse.
Back inside the Garrison, John sat at the bar, his gaze drifting without a purpose. He thought about his friend, shaking off the memories shared between the two when they were young.
John slipped his fingers around the otherβs unfinished glass, once again taking the shot, letting the burn linger in his throat. The moment was shattered when Sawyer scared John out of his bloomers.
βHoooow goes it, piano man?β Sawyer barked from the other side of the counter, reaching over to slap a firm pat to the otherβs shoulder. βAye now, simmer down.β John rolled his eyes at the other manβs volume.
John didn't understand what his childhood buddy saw in this person, let alone another man. But, at the same time, he didn't want to understand. So, he didn't let the thought trouble him.
βYer wife wasn't feeling too up for the crowd, nor my bar stools,β John made up, as he grabbed the two empty shot glasses from earlier. He gestured to the door and shrugged. βSumβm βbout βis back hurtinβ.β
Sawyer cleared his throat in an attempt to lighten up Johnβs clear disinterest in him. βRightβ¦ well have a good 4th. Hope the evening goes easy fer ya.β Sawyer tipped his hat to the bartender, awkwardly walking to the door.
Sawyer found his partner off in the distance. He thought nothing much of Price leaving. He understood that sometimes his lover changes his mind out of the blue. Especially during bigger holidays. Sawyer didn't understand why, but Price had always been standoffish⦠no⦠Snappy? Grouchy. Maybe upset was a nicer word. Jogging up to his partner, he let out a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.
Price focused on brushing off the pollen off his saddle as an arm snaked around his waist, pulling him back towards Sawyerβs broad chest. βHey there, fruitcake.β Sawyer smiled, wrapping his other arm around Price as he pulled him close. The two stood there, feeling the humid breeze breathe with them. Time slowed, the sun spreading a soft yellow and blue hue across the sky as it set. The sound of gravel shuffling under the two as they swayed with each other's breaths.
Price wasn't gonna tell the other what was in his mind. Heβd let it all go for now, soon heading back inside, Priceβs finger hooked on Sawyerβs belt loop as they walked, settling on the balcony, watching the fireworks shoot high into the musty summer night.
