#oc roberto

1865

The war was over. Roberto couldn’t quite believe it. He’d been bringing gold east to Alfred to buy more supplies, and now?

He was caught in the middle of celebrations.

The Union states of the northeast and midwest were celebrating with free flowing booze and games of cards and whatever else caught their fancy. The Confederacy was defeated, and the world seemed, to them, almost hopeful. But to Roberto, the war had, even during previous visits to the East, seemed a very distant thing. And now, he stood here, still uncertain where he fit in with these strangers.

How much simpler things were at home, where he was the powerful player, and he had people to rely on. He filled himself a pint of ale, and then sat in a corner, sipping and watching the other states lose their common sense. Even Fatima, who wasn’t supposed to drink, was sipping on a brandy as she talked to the others. The war was over.

And yet, maybe it had just begun.

Roberto was interrupted from his musings by a figure sitting next to him, tall and with his own pint. Once, Roberto had almost cowered from this figure. But now?

“Hello, Jan Kees. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You brought gold, and haven’t even visited the card tables yet. I’m wondering why.”

Roberto glanced over, watching Elijah run the card games. It reminded him of the knack Sarah had for the same games once he and Carson had taught her.

“House always wins. Farming’s a gamble enough.” He glanced at Jan. “Why do you care?”

“Just thought you might want to loosen up. It’s a celebration, after all. We won.”

“Yeah.” Roberto said, less certain. “We won.”

Lupe was still on the run, so were so many of the others. But Lupe was always on his mind. Lupe was family. And he’d fought her too often now to feel that this was a true victory.

“Hey, snap out of it.” Jan said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Roberto almost slapped the hand away. “If you’re still thinking enough to be contemplative, then you aren’t drunk enough.”

Roberto gave Jan an appraising look. “And what do you suggest then?”

“Let’s go get more drinks. Strike up the band. Something! The war’s over!”

Roberto let Jan drag him off. He drank more with the other northeasterners, and Massachusetts even seemed civil. He managed to set aside his frustrations for the night until he found anything beyond the moment hard to focus on at all.

He lost a game or two of cards, and then smoked a cigar. Jan got even drunker than he did, and everyone managed to laugh at someone’s drunk shenanigans.

And as people launched fireworks and noisemakers and shot cannons in celebration, Roberto glanced at Jan.

“The next battle’s the railroads.”

Jan grunted. “Well, California. Let’s save that for another night. For now, just savor the damn moment.”

Roberto snorted, and then looked up at the sky. And even if his feelings were far more complicated than some of the others, he did begin to feel some of the burden lift off his shoulders.

The feel when you’re like, one of the older kids in the west, but the eastern states all keep calling you a kid because you were six when the revolutionary war started.

What pirate prefers wine over rum? A Californian one.

Californication plays at Beverly’s funeral