June 6-Rails

Silgon Warrant stood on the back steps of the west bound train watching the tracks play out beneath his booted feet. He scuffed the side of his left foot against the sooty metal grill work and spat off the train into the chill morning air. He could still see the blood stains on the worn leather from kicking his father after he had finally gone down beneath the whip. He was so entranced in the sight of ties skipping by he barely heard his brother slide through the door behind him.
“No regrets Sil none. We swore to each other. Mason said sideling in beside the younger man.
“No Mason no regrets just well just sayin’ goodbyes I guess. Farms the only place I ever knew.”
“Wasn’t a farm not that piss ant pile a muck and mire. Not a farm Silgon just god damned hell on earth.”
“Yup I suppose. But it was home.”
“Home! Are ya daft Silgon? Pa he ain’t never treated that place like a home. He run it like a prison camp. I mean just look at yourself boy. Skin and bones. I ate better in the damned army and we ate like animals. And the hittin Silgon look at what he done to ya when I was away. Least when I was home I could hold him offa ya a bit. Doc Vaughn told me Silgon he told me. Good riddance I say to all of it.”
“I suppose.”
“That all you got to say?” Mason pushed turning his younger brother around to look him in the eye. “I mean damn it Silgon look at you; still a purple mess and that don’t include your back, bastard and his damned whip. No regrets!”
“Nope Mase no regrets I just well I just keep seein him in the mud Mase, we coulda maybe not whipped him plumb to death. Damn clattering reminds me of the crack a the whip’s all.”
“Silgon that old bastard got what he gave. He got what he gave to ya for nineteen miserable years of your life for ma dying birthin ya as if it was your fault! I wasn’t gonna leave ya there again and you damned sure ain’t goin’ in the war so buck up and forget that hell hole. These rails are takin’ us to freedom Sil. We got money from my fightin’ in the south and the west ahead a us. A real farm Sil a real life no more slave drivein’ Pa kickin the snot outta ya daily. I couldn’t protect ya before but now…” Mason pulled the slightly smaller man into a tight embrace careful not to squeeze Silgon’s still healing back too hard. “Now I can and I will. Our lives are ours.”
“No regrets Mase. Sorry guess I’m just tired. Mason the farm, Mason can’t it be a ranch? Cattle, horses and such I think I’d like that better then rutabagas and corn.”
Mason laughed and ruffled Silgon’s dark brown hair.
“Cattle it is little brother cattle it is.”