Chapter Text
It was the summer of 1867, and Lando had just arrived back at his father’s ranch after studying up East. He had been studying law, but as his university year ended, he was brought back home. Lando never understood why anymore; his family was close, but as he grew older, it felt as if cracks were forming and daggers were pointed more and more at him. Unmarried at the age of 26, and no girl in particular he was courting. It must be the gossip of the household for the house servants.
The train cart rattled Lando awake, forcing him to look around deliriously. If he had to guess by the nature outside his window, he was back in Texas again. Soon, the ranch.
When Lando finally stepped back on the hard dirt that he called home, the first thing, or person, he noticed was him. He must’ve been new. Hired sometime in the past year that Lando was gone.
The cowboy wore a hat, covering most of his face with shade as the sun rode low on the horizon, a sign that night was soon to come. His hands were mauled from years of work, but he didn't look old. Or, at least, he couldn't be older than 30, but with his line of work, kids starting at ages as young as 12, it has a tendency to age people more than they truly are.
The man was tending to his horse. Clearly, they both were tired after a long day in the sun. He watched a second longer than he should have. Quietly observing the cowboy’s serene expression. There was something about the cowboy that stirred an unfamiliar curiosity in Lando. Perhaps it was the way he seemed so at ease, as if he belonged to the land more than any man Lando had ever known. Lando tried not to pay much attention to him, though. Quickly making his way past him and towards the ranch house.
“Lando!” He heard his mother gasp watching her son walk up the steps to the large house. Was it larger than last summer? She enveloped him in a tender hug.
“Oh, how was your trip, my dear?” She asked, soft eyes sweeping over his face. He smiled, “It was fine, mum.”
Lando dropped off his bag in his old room, heaving a deep sigh. That cowboy he saw earlier must have stayed behind to tend to the next batch of longhorns. Usually around this time, the cowboys at the ranch make the journey with the cows up north to the railroad. The ranch was surely a big place to upkeep.
At dinner, Lando sat at the table with his mother and father. Oli still east with his own line of work and unable to make it down for the summer. Flo and Cisca were off on their own adventure somewhere as well. If Lando was being honest, he hadn’t kept in touch with his family as much as he would have liked.
They ate in silence, the clinking of cutlery against porcelain ringing now and then. Until his father broke the silence, “How have your studies been?”
“Fine.”
“You haven’t been messaging as much. Something holding you back?”
“Oh, dear, you don’t have to prod him like that. He can have his own life, especially if he’s met someone.” His mother answered for him.
His father grunted, and the table fell silent again. The silence wasn’t comforting. It never was when his father was near.
The morning was slow for Lando. How will it be for the next two months here? Though he will have things to do, some work for the ranch, even if he was never good at that, as well as keeping up with his studies. Sure, he was a fresh graduate, but it’s during this time that he needs to make sure he scores that apprenticeship.
He ate his breakfast even more slowly. Knowing that any moment his father will come in, looking for him. Maybe berate him about how late it is, then send him off to tend to the ranch. Prepare him if he ever inherits it.
As if just on cue, his father does walk in, and just as expected, he does everything Lando thought he would.
“You do know what time it is, right?”
Lando continues to move his eggs around his plate, shrugging.
“I’ve already done half the work for the day; you’re no use just sitting around.” He mutters another part under his breath. Lando sucks air in sharply. “Yeah, I’ll get to it.”
It was during one of his chores that he heard his name.
Another ranch hand yelled out to him, “Oscar, will you go get the horses?”
Lando stopped mid-stride. He was making his way back to the house. Oscar nodded to the other guy, no smile, just a polite nod. He turned around, and their eyes met for the first time. Lando looked away as quickly as it had happened.
Oscar. Lando thought it was just another name. He didn’t know why he kept replaying it in his head.
It was in the hallway of the house that Lando stopped instantly. It was just a glimpse he saw from the window, but it pulled him away. There Oscar was. Doing his job.
Lando always enjoyed watching the others on the ranch work, as he was never strong enough to be much help. Always writes and studies in his room. As if locked away from others.
The glass of the window separating Lando and Oscar. Oscar’s grizzly and worked hands repairing a broken fence. It was normal work; it shouldn’t have made Lando stop. But the tenderness pulled Lando’s gaze from his hands up to his face. His expression was neutral. Sweat made his face glisten in the glaring sun.
Lando pulled his gaze away as soon as he heard footsteps down the hall.
Lando settled down in a chair in the kitchen, sighing from all the paperwork his father made him do. The kitchen maid, Maria, was working on dinner already. Lando reached for an apple in the fruit bowl.
“Don’t eat too much, you know supper will be ready soon.” Maria scolded.
Lando huffed a laugh, “It’s just an apple.”
She smiled at him, “I was thinking of makin’ apple pie, how ‘bout that?”
“Mmm,” Lando nodded, taking a bite of the apple.
Silence fell over the kitchen for a beat. The sizzling of vegetables on the stove and the slicing from Maria’s knife filled the room. “Do you mind gettin’ some water from the well for me? Don’t want this to burn while I'm out.” Maria said.
Lando nodded, although her back was turned to him. “Sure,”
Lando groaned, standing up and grabbing the pail for water.
He pulled on the rope for the well water, filling up his pail once he got it. He huffed once before pulling it up, groaning from the weight. As he turned the corner around the stable towards the house, he bumped into something, splashing the water on himself and the ground. Lando grumbled, “Great, now I gotta get more.”
“Pardon.” A voice said. Lando looked up into those not-so-familiar brown eyes. The deep brown enveloped Lando’s brain for a second, and he thought he melted. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Oscar mumbled. Lando just blinked before shaking his head.
“All, uh, all good.” He nodded. Oscar tipped his hat, “Sorry again.”
Then he walked off, and so did Lando.
The next morning, Lando hears Oscar before he sees him. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was him; all he'd ever heard of his voice was an apology for bumping into him.
“Yeah, she’s a beaut,” Oscar says to someone. Lando couldn’t see; he was in the stable getting some straw for the fields. They were right outside, probably talking about Oscar’s horse if Lando had anything to go by. He’s only ever seen Oscar a few times, but every time his horse seemed to be nearby, like it was a part of him.
The other man chuckled, “Yeah, for sure, but my appaloosa can’t be beat.”
Oscar’s laugh freezes Lando. It was warm, heartfelt. Lando was accustomed to the cold coughs, which often acted as a small chuckle at the dinner table. Lando catches himself before he can listen further, realizing how weird he must be. He grabs the rest of the straw and walks out the back, towards the grazing fields.
There must be something wrong with him. It’s just because he’s new, Lando thinks. That’s why I’m so stuck on him.
After his last chore, Lando grabs one of the books he had packed in his bag and makes his way out of the house. His father stopped him at the front door.
“Ah, Lando,” he said, Oscar next to him. Lando meets Oscar’s eyes again. That seems to always freeze him a second longer than it ever should.
“Yes, Pa?” He answered.
His father patted Oscar on the back, “I was just talking with Oscar here, and he was going to ride out to the far fields to check on the cattle there.”
Lando nodded, unsure where he was going with this.
“And I believe you need some more experience out there.” He nodded, as if agreeing with himself.
Lando looked from his father to Oscar, who was obviously unaware that this was going to be thrust upon him.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Lando started, knowing that he should shut this down before he made Oscar even more uncomfortable.
“Don’t you start,” Lando’s dad narrowed his eyes. “You need the experience, son.”
Lando nodded, unable to gather the courage to reject his father.
“Yeah, sure, Pa.”
Oscar was silent the whole way over to the stables. Lando glanced at him ever so often, but every time, he was just focused on the path ahead. Lando gripped the strap of his book bag, waving away the thought of even wanting Oscar to look at him again. To see his eyes again.
Oscar led a horse out of the stable. He was graceful and tall. Lando recognized him from when he was younger. His name was Canyon, his fur a deep brown, almost red in the sun.
Oscar grabbed a saddle from the shelf, getting Canyon ready for the ride. Lando knew how to ride a horse, of course. He grew up on this ranch.
Outside the stable, Oscar brought Canyon to some steps as easy access to get on the horse. Lando rolled his eyes.
“I’m not an idiot, I can get on the horse on my own.”
Oscar silently stared at Lando, then nodded and stepped the horse away from the steps. Lando grabbed the reins from Oscar, planting his foot in the foot holster, and swung himself up and over. He looked down at Oscar triumphantly with a smirk.
Oscar didn't smile back, just grabbed his own horse from the fence and situated himself on top, just as Lando did.
Lando huffed. How insolent is he?
The ride wasn’t tough. It was more the hot sun beating down that annoyed Lando the most. All he wanted to do was go out under a tree, maybe his spot by the creek, and read. That’s what he loved the most about this ranch. His spot by the creek. He could disappear for hours down there, willingly trapped in his world of words.
Oscar started to herd the cattle in the direction of more grazing land. To spread more nutrients for the Longhorns. It was a small flock, easy to handle for just one, so it was an Oscar-only job; all Lando did was watch. He felt useless, though he didn't know how to herd cattle anyway.
He watched how Oscar moved his horse in order to maneuver the cows. It looked graceful to him. When he lifted his arms on the reins, his shirt stretched around his bicep. Lando breathed in through his nose sharply. He was envious. He was never strong.
The sun didn’t help Lando’s growing annoyance. He wished he at least had one of those big, stupid hats like Oscar. He stared at the back of his head, more like glaring. The hat was taking up most of his view. He wished he knew what his hair looked like. It was always hidden under the hat.
Lando bet it was matted from wearing the hat all day. That it was long too, and curled around his ears perfectly, framing his face just right.
Lando’s eyes traveled down, landing on the back of Oscar’s neck, shaded by the brim.
He could just faintly make out the sweat that glinted off the sun, catching his eye. He thought about how Oscar was in the sun all the time. He must sweat gallons. He must taste so salty.
Lando blinked, distracted from his thoughts, and his horse neighed. He almost bumped into Oscar. He clenched his jaw, looking away and moving further from Oscar. Getting away from him removed him from his mind, surely.
Oscar made his way over to Lando shortly after, though.
Lando looked at him, unsure why.
“We’re stoppin’ now.” He simply answered Lando’s look.
Oscar stepped off his horse, making his way to a broken fence post and tying it there.
Lando did the same, leading Canyon to a separate post.
Oscar sat down under a tree, groaning slightly from exhaustion. Lando copied him again, leaning against an adjacent tree, facing the field. It was silent. Lando didn’t know what to do. Oscar didn’t seem like the talkative type exactly. At least not to him. He was cut off almost.
“What’s her name?” Lando blurted out, disrupting the stilted quiet.
“Pardon?” Oscar turned his head to Lando, and Lando was already looking at Oscar.
“Your horse.” Lando nods his head towards her.
“Oh,” Oscar breathes out, “Missy.” He answers plainly, looking back to the field already. He was done with the conversation so quickly.
Lando chuckled lightly, trying to get through to Oscar. “Why’d you name her that?”
“Can’t I name my horse what I like?” Oscar said, cutting the conversation off quickly again.
Lando sat in silence after that. He hates me. Lando was sure of it by now. Was it because I’m higher than him?
Lando furrowed his brows. Good then, I don’t want to talk to some lowlife anyway.
The ride back to the ranch was just as silent. The only noise was the crunch of the dry dirt beneath the horse’s hooves. Lando thought about how much he wanted to get clean. Get rid of this day. If only he could skip dinner as well.
Dinner always settled over the house like a fog.
The long table was too big for just three people, the empty chairs lining it like quiet accusations. Cutlery clicked against porcelain in a steady, lifeless rhythm, the only sound besides the faint creak of the old house and the distant lowing of cattle outside.
Lando kept his eyes on his plate.
The food was good, as Maria always made it, but it tasted like nothing. He pushed peas into neat lines, then broke them apart again, just to have something to do with his hands.
“Uh… so, Mum,” he said finally, the words awkward in his mouth, “how are Flo and Cisca doing?”
His mother brightened instantly, as if she’d been waiting for an opening. “Oh, you know, being young,” she said with a small laugh. “I believe they’re off in the cities with their husbands. Traveling, attending events… Cisca wrote that they’ve taken a house near the river.”
She sounded pleased. Proud.
Lando nodded. He pictured them in fine dresses, on balconies, in crowded rooms full of light. Free.
His father looked up from his plate. “Yes. They’ve done well for themselves,” he said. “Same with your brother.”
Lando stiffened slightly.
“Oliver’s business is expanding again,” his father continued. “And with the children now… he’s built something solid.”
Built something. The words sat heavy in Lando’s chest.
“I’m proud of him,” Lando said quietly. And he was. Genuinely. Oliver had escaped. He’d made it out.
His father studied him for a moment, then nodded once, as if confirming something to himself.
“You know,” he began, setting his fork down, “I was not much older than you when this land was given to me.”
Here it is, Lando thought.
“I worked it with my own hands. Day and night. I grew it into what it is now,” his father said, voice steady, almost reflective. “Every fence, every head of cattle, none of it came easy.”
Lando’s grip tightened around his cutlery.
“I did that so I could pass it down,” his father continued. “To children who would understand its value. Who would be willing to carry it.”
Lando glanced at his mother. She was looking at her plate, her hands folded too neatly in her lap.
“I bring you back every summer for a reason, son,” his father said. “You can’t keep living as if this place isn’t yours.”
Lando swallowed.
“I know you have your studies. Your ambitions.” The word sounded thin. “But this family name carries weight. Responsibility. You can’t avoid these things forever.”
There it was. The pressure, creeping in.
“And that includes…” his father paused, choosing his words carefully, “…thinking about the future.”
Lando’s chest felt tight.
“Stability,” his father said. “Legacy.”
His gaze was unwavering now. Trapping.
“Marriage.”
The word landed like a stone.
Lando froze, fork hovering midair. For a brief, stupid second, his mind betrayed him. A flash of sun and dust, a man in a hat, strong hands, quiet eyes. Oscar.
He forced the thought away.
“I—” Lando started, then stopped. There was nothing he could say.
His father leaned back slightly. “Alliances are important. They always have been.”
Lando nodded. Once. Twice. His head moved even as his stomach dropped.
His mother shifted, finally. “He’s just come home,” she said gently. “Let him breathe.”
His father’s eyes flicked to her, then back to Lando. “Breathing is a luxury,” he said. “This is reality.”
The silence that followed was thick and merciless.
Lando stared at his plate again, the food blurring. He felt small. Younger than he’d been in years. Cornered in his own childhood chair.
You can’t avoid these things forever.
The words echoed, over and over.
He nodded once more, because that was what was expected of him.
Because it was easier than fighting.
Because fighting would mean admitting he wanted something he wasn’t supposed to.
And because, suddenly, the idea of the open fields and the quiet cowboy outside felt like the only place he could breathe. Even if he hated him.