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🕑 Added 2024-12-20 05:36:55 +0000 UTCWind in the Smoke
Chapter 65 - What Had My Brother Become?
The next day, Dante walked slowly along the northern branch of the river on Kayce's ranch, scanning the water for signs of trout.
That morning, he had brought several supplies to the restored cabin. The albino grizzly bear was still missing, but the bowl beside the sofa was empty, and all the food he had left there had been consumed.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed a few drops of water on the edge of the bowl and some white hairs swaying in the wind.
All the crops in the garden had sprouted in just a few days after being planted.
After watering them, Dante went into the cabin and planned to organize the fishing tackle room.
Although most of the fishing rods left by the previous owner were badly damaged, some pieces could still be salvaged, such as the nine-foot fly rod he now held in his hands, which was mostly intact.
Dante had grown addicted to fishing and took the rod down to the river to try his luck.
The nearby stream was shallow, just over half a meter deep, and so clear that Dante could see every rock on the bottom.
"There!"
Dante's eyes locked onto a rock by the river. There seemed to be something dark next to it. Upon closer inspection, he noticed something gently swaying in the water.
The triangular shape at one end revealed its true identity: a tail!
The trout was larger than any he had encountered that morning, and just the sight of its size filled him with both excitement and a hint of panic. Big fish always spelled trouble.
Dante was about a few hundred meters away, cautiously approaching along the bank, moving as stealthily as a predator.
There were two possibilities: either the trout would bite the hook, or it would vanish without a trace. There was no third option.
Dante found a spot on the bank close enough to cast his line without alarming the fish.
The shadow was still there, the massive shape right in front of him—a catch he couldn’t afford to lose.
The angle of the bank wasn’t ideal and was better suited for left-handed fishers, but Dante wasn’t about to give up.
Fish didn’t like shadows, which reminded them of predators, so Dante had to be careful.
He wasn’t far from the trout and needed to measure the distance precisely.
The wind hadn’t let up.
There was an opening between the branches behind him for his backcast.
He wasn’t very skilled at short-distance casting and regretted not practicing beforehand.
The trout was very active and might have accepted the bait if the cast was good.
Dante prepared a double hook setup this time, with a hopper on top and a nymph on the bottom.
After steadying his breathing, he slightly bent the fly rod in his hand. The tip of the rod flexed, and the line traced an elegant arc in the air.
This was a textbook backcast: lifting the rod backward, keeping his wrist firm, and extending his arm as the fishing line unfolded behind him.
The swing of the line propelled the fly, which danced gracefully through the air.
There was a brief pause: Dante waited until the fishing line was fully straightened and the tip of the rod pointed slightly upward before suddenly snapping the rod forward.
The fishing line darted through the air, gliding smoothly across the river like a silver ribbon, glinting in the morning light.
The fly landed softly on the water, barely causing a ripple, as if an unsuspecting insect had fallen in.
A little askew, the river's ripples gently pushed the fly deeper, and the enormous shadow ignored it, suddenly turning and swimming in the opposite direction—it was spooked.
Dante felt disappointed and was about to reel in the line to try again. But footsteps approached, and he froze instantly.
"Fishing this early in the morning?" Dante didn’t need to turn around to know it was his brother Kayce, who hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday about their father’s condition.
"I was just enjoying this spot before you move in with your family." Dante acted nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t killed a man threatening John less than ten hours ago.
"I heard about the fire..."
Dante smiled faintly and asked, "Wasn’t it just an accident?"
"Pretty convenient, don’t you think?"
"You can think whatever you want, brother, but between you and me, we both know what our family does to its enemies. Come on, don’t look at me like that. We both know the bodies buried in that mountain outnumber what we can count."
Dante’s words were flat. He had been passive like his enemies, and it had almost cost their father his life. At least now he understood that some threats needed to be eliminated at the root before they could haunt his family.
All his childhood memories were clear. He knew what his older brothers had hidden from him, so between him and them, there was no great gap of impurity.
"You’re my brother, Kayce, the only one I’ve never kept secrets from. Since I was a kid, I’ve watched our family crumble into a thousand pieces. My only dream was to have a meal where we didn’t have to leave the table after five minutes, but that dream was just that."
Dante paused before continuing: "Now that I’m older, I understand new things. Even if I can’t solve our family’s internal problems, I can at least protect them."
"Yes, but no one asked you to, and I’m sure if our father finds out, he’ll tell you the same thing." Kayce could no longer look at his younger brother the same way. Now, he saw a murderer, a criminal—and it was partly his fault.
"That doesn’t matter. What matters is that family comes first. I hope you understand that too and decide to give our father a second chance to make things right with you. Don’t carry that weight to the grave—remember that."
"You can still escape."
"And where do you want me to go? My family is in Montana; I don’t abandon my own," Dante said as he handed Kayce a bucket of trout he had caught earlier and walked toward his truck. "Forget everything I said. You’d better leave with your new family, and I’ll take care of mine."
Kayce stood silently, thinking. There was no doubt in his mind that Dante had killed Dan Jenkins, who had been declared dead in the fire.
If his brother was involved, he could only hope no one would ever find out.
Kayce wasn’t exactly the brother to give Dante life advice; he had buried more people than he could remember, so he wasn’t any better than him.
