One fool and a baby

It may have been the coughing coming from the cabins that woke Ripley up in the middle of the night; it may have even been when she found Yuliy fast asleep leaning against the kitchen counter, exhausted from caring after three ill children; or perhaps it was the edge of everyone’s patience with her. The reason behind her actions is only known to her and she’ll never tell.

The only thing she’ll ever say is how much she hates being up before dawn. The sun’s still hiding beneath the mountains and the moon weakens it’s hold on the night, and yet she’s awake and working.

The rabbit that sits beside her no longer resembles one. The poor thing’s head is a mess of guts and fur, and the skin that may have sold as a nice pelt is riddled with bullet holes. Shotguns don’t make good hunting weapons.

“Ow.” She pops her finger into her mouth as it wells with blood. Skinning the damn thing almost had her throwing the body off a cliff. No matter how many times Jake had shown her in the past, she still can’t get the hang off it. Her cut up fingers are proof of that. “How the fuck am I supposed to just yank it off?” She mumbles around her finger.

One quick tug and the whole skin should come off, he had said to her once. All she had managed to do was rip the fur into strips.

Part of her wants to wake Yuliy up and get him to do it for her, like all of the other times she was in charge of skinning and gutting. But she remembers the look in his eyes when she had asked him for help with the ram Jake had given her. She didn’t think the kid had the guts to glare at her with that much hatred, but she stood corrected. Even Yuliy had a limit and she’d hit it.

She stabs the rabbit and drags the knife back, cutting up both skin and muscles. She keeps hacking away until it’s clean of fur and free of guts. It takes everything not to throw up at the way the insides come spilling out. But she does it and hangs it up with the rest of the animals she had already skinned, ready to be cooked. That was one job she was not touching and suspected that everyone would be grateful she didn’t. There didn’t need to be any forest fires today.

Pulling out a tattered piece of paper and a pencil from behind her ear, Ripley ticks off another chore. The first one on the list among several that needed doing. She suppresses the urge to grumble before tucking the paper back into her jean pocket.

The next few hours, Ripley starts ticking off the chores one by one. She fetches a bucket of water from a nearby spring and loads it into a pot to be boiled for later; she clears the neighbouring fields from the stench of horse shit and wheel burrows it to a cliff, dumping it over the edge; her fingers are left pruned and rough after cleaning snot covered clothes and blankets in the wash basin.
Her list still looks shy of being complete, underestimating how many she could accomplish in a matter of hours.

The last one she’s prepared to do is feed the horses. The carriage horses were somewhere on the mountain, surviving off the land, hardy enough to live without needing them. Their riding horses were a different story. The mounts stayed near the house, venturing only a few hundred yards away.

Dragging the hay bales out into the yard and past the tree house, Ripley begins spreading the hay, sneezing when a stray one tickles her nose.

It isn’t long before Fabien, Yuliy’s grey little pony, comes trotting over, his stomach leading him straight to where Ripley’s dragging another bale. Dipping his head, he tries to take it from her.

“Get off, you lump of glue.” Ripley fights with the plucky pony as he knocks the bale out of her hands. The sound of it hitting the ground grabs the rest of the horse’s attention and come over for breakfast.

She’d only managed to grab two bales before Fabien’s stomach had stopped her from spreading the hay evenly. The horses realise this and begin nipping at each other; Beauregard stomps his hoof and curls his neck as Fabien blocks his way. It wouldn’t be long before a fight breaks out.

“Alright, alright, stop it.” Ripley wedges herself between the body of horses, only for one of them to knock her over with it’s hind. She lands with a thump, the left-over snow seeping into her jeans. “I fucking hate horses.” She mumbles to herself.

Blue lowers his head at her, his ears pricked forward as he sniffs her.

“Betcha you’re the one who pushed me.” She pushes his head away, the horse snorting as he trots away to join the others.

The crunch of snow alerts her that someone’s behind her and by the weight of them, her guess makes her cringe.

“What’re you doing?” Jake asks. There’s a tiredness to his tone, a note that pleads for salvation from whatever Ripley’s doing.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Ripley snorts, kicking out at the hay around her. “I’m feeding the horses.”

“And you’re doing it sitting down?”

“Blue’s fat ass pushed me.” She gets to her feet and pulls at the wet parts of her jeans that cling to her.

“It’s not like you to do be up at this hour?” Jake cocks an eyebrow.

“Says who?” She challenges.

There’s a pause of impatience before Jake walks past her and towards the barn. He whistles, and Blue pops his head out from the shape of horses just outside the fence.

“Leon and Isabella have gone to Strawberry. I’m going to get us some food.” Jake turns, his face serious. “Mia’s in charge, you listen to her, ya hear?”

Ripley crosses her arms over her chest, leaning her weight on one leg.

“I already got food sorted.”

A silence passes over them as Jake tosses the words around in his head. Ripley simply points to a series of rabbits she’d caught that morning.

“Your doing?” Jake spots the mangled rabbits hanging.

“Ain’t too pretty, but food’s food.” Ripley kicks a pebble. She watches as Jake inspects the rabbits, grimacing as a leg falls off one when he touches it.

“I don’t know how you manage to screw up skinning a rabbit.” He shakes his head. “But they’re salvageable, at least.”

Ripley swallows a gulp, shoving her hands into her pockets before crossing them back over her chest.

A cough sounding from Mia’s cabin breaks over the ranch. Jake’s head snaps towards the sound, and there in the break of dawn, Ripley sees the darkness under his eyes that are laden with worry.

“Your kid, she’s okay, right?” Ripley asks, staring at piece of hay floating in a melted puddle of snow.

“Not too great. We really need that medicine.”

Ripley winces, not missing the hint of disappointment and annoyance in Jake’s voice.

“Too bad they ran out in Valentine.”

“Mmh. Too bad.”

Ripley wants to be anywhere else than under Jake’s scrutiny, shining a light on her wrong doings.

“I didn’t know it was this bad.” Ripley’s voice is soft, quiet beneath the weight in her chest. “If I knew, I-.”

“You said the doctor had run out.” Jake locks eyes with her and they both keep them level. She looks away first, her eyes dropping to her boots.

“Right.”

Another series of coughing takes Jake away from the yard. He marches back into the cabin he shares with Mia and his daughter. Ripley hesitates, feeling as though her feet are stuck in the mud and wishing it’d swallow her up.
Against her instinct to shove her problems away, Ripley follows Jake, popping her head into the cabin. There, she finds Mia cradling a little Elizabeth to her chest, rocking her back and forth. Jake watches from his knelt position on the floor by the bed, her hand clasped on Mia’s knee.

She sees the exhaustion that hangs over them all. The wrinkles in Mia’s clothes, the greasiness of her roots, the hurried ponytail of Jake’s hair and the paleness of Elizabeth’s face.

“You guys look like shit.”

The glares that came her way makes her take a step back.

“I didn’t-it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” She steps further into the cabin. “I meant that you both look like you need a break. Icanlookafterherforafewhoursifyouwanttocatchsomesleep?” Ripley suggests with a shrug.

“You look after Lizzie?” Mia strokes her daughter’s hair.

“Yeah.”

Jake and Mia look at each other, the concern is easy to see on their faces.

“Kid, you ain’t exactly babysitter of the year. Scrap that, the century.”

“Hon, we appreciate the offer, but it’s probably best if we take care of her.”

“You’re burnt out.” Ripley inspects an empty mug rimmed with coffee stains. “You both look ready to pass out.”

“Who’s fault is that,” Jake mumbles, Mia lays a hand on his.

“Look, I messed up. I got it. And I know I ain’t all that trusting with kids and all, but what’s the worst I can do?”

“I don’t want to answer that,” Mia says.

“I mean, I’ll just be sat in the cabin.” She throws her thumb over her shoulder at the main cabin behind her. “And Yuliy and Val will be there if I need anything.”

She sees their hesitation, the uneasiness that washes over them at the idea of handing their daughter to her.

“I promise I’d lay my life down for everyone here. That includes your kid.” She nods her head to the bundle of blankets that’s Elizabeth.

“It ain’t about that.” Jake runs a hand down his face.

“Let me do this. If I need you, you’re a stone throw away.” Ripley swallows at the dryness in her throat. “Trust me on this.”

She doesn’t know how they both come to a collective decision to allow her this chance. Whether the exhaustion that tugged at them made their minds jumbled with their decision, or that maybe, somewhere, they did trust Ripley with their daughter. She suspects that it’s the first one.

Either way, Ripley is handed their daughter with a series of blankets, the concoction that Leon had brewed together and her word that she’ll alert them if anything happens. She almost expects them to follow her when she leaves their little cabin. Quickly realising the mistake they’ve made and take their daughter back into their safe embrace. But they don’t. She hopes that they’re fast asleep, catching up on missed days of it.

Inside the main cabin, she plops Elizabeth on the floor, tucking her tighter in the blankets. A sniffle grabs her attention and she can’t help but grimace at the snot that runs from Elizabeth’s nose.

“Gross.” Ripley wrinkles her nose. “Guess it ain’t your fault though.” She tugs her bandana lose from her neck and uses it on the kid before tying it around Elizabeth’s neck, loosely. “Looking like a real cowgirl now.”

Elizabeth only looks to the door, expectantly.

“They’re sleeping,” Ripley says, and then puts her claps hands against the side of her head, gesturing the word. She has no clue how much the kid understands her. Despite her efforts, the toddler still waits for the front door to open.

“So…” Ripley looks at the toddler sit in front of her as the minutes tick by and she refuses to do anything but stare at the door. Though, she grabs her attention just enough for her to glance at her with wide eyes. It’s not really awkwardness that passes over her; what’s there to be awkward about with a two-year-old? But still, Ripley’s at a loss. What did you even do for fun with someone who could barely walk without tripping over and a vocab consisted of words that Mia had banned?

Searching around the room, Ripley tries to find a distraction, something to occupy both of their time. And then an idea clicks in her head and she grabs a pack of playing card on the table. “Do you know how to play poker?”