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Albie glared at him. “Percy.”
“I won’t hear any more of it, Albie. Though I will let you draw me a hot bath tonight, deal?”
He feared he’d need it.
“Fine,” Albie said, somewhat mollified.
“And while I’m soaking away any aches and pains in the tub, you can steal some more butter from Clara’s larder.” Percy grinned at him. “If she catches you, it’ll be your hide that needs soaking.”
Albie finally smiled. “Maybe I should buy us a private stash of butter from the store before we leave.”
Percy laughed. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
* * *
Albie didn’t buy any butter from the store, though he did call past the saleyard to double check when the next intake was. It was early, the yards mostly empty and not many people around, but Mr Bailey was there, and he most definitely was whistling a different tune in regards to Albie.
And yes, it was unfair that the saleyard, the bank, and the store all bowed to McAllister. They should have respected Albie before he found himself in McAllister’s good graces. It clearly irked Albie, and rightly so, but Percy found it a little funny.
“Imagine living your life as a puppet like that,” he said as they rode out of town. “McAllister’s the puppeteer that makes all his little marionettes dance. They’re fools to think he respects them. But you,” he said, giving a pointed nod to Albie, “you he respects. Begrudgingly, perhaps. But respect, nonetheless.”
Albie laughed. “I don’t know about that.”
“You didn’t bow down to him when a weaker man would have,” Percy added.
Albie wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he settled for silence. It was an easy silence between them, comfortable even. They’d catch each other’s gaze and smile, making Albie’s heart thunder.
Percy whistled a tune for a bit, then he told of a story from his childhood when he’d been in trouble at school and caught the teacher’s wrath.
Then his father’s when he got home.
“Do you miss them?” Albie asked. It wasn’t the first time, but he knew longing and sadness was something that came and went.
Percy scrunched his nose. “Sometimes. I think a part of me always will. But I’m not sorry I left. I’m sorry they told me to leave, and I’m sorry they felt me more of a burden than a son. I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry I left. Because if I hadn’t gone out on my own, I’d have never met you. I’ve never been this happy, Albie. I’ll take this life, this authentic life, over a lie any given day of the week.”
Albie would never stop being amazed at this man.
“Do you think they knew?” Albie pressed. “That you were never inclined to bed a woman?”
Percy’s smile turned rueful. “I think so, yes. Some part of my mother always knew, I think. My father lived in denial and would never think of such things. If I’d have told him the real reason I didn’t want to marry Emily...” He shook his head. “He’d have flayed the skin from my bones and buried me with a Bible.”
Albie sighed, his heart heavy.
“I wish it weren’t so. And I’ll never understand how people can clutch a Bible in one hand while they beat you with their other. It reeks of hypocrisy.”
Percy was quiet for a few beats. “What about you? Do you think your father knew?”
Albie shook his head. “No. We were too isolated, too removed from the townsfolk for me to have any interest in courting anyone, much less a lady.” He made a face. “Thankfully.”
“Do you think Des and Robert know?”
“About us?”
Percy nodded.
“I would hope not.” Albie dreaded the thought.
“I think Des might wonder.”
