Eight o'clock had come, and Charlie was sent up to bed. The evening had been a quiet one, with just the three of them.
Teresa had been sewing on a dress, while Murdoch read thru the newspaper. Charlie had occupied herself reading on the book
she'd purchased at the mercantile.
She was in her nightgown, and sitting on the window seat, still reading by the lamp, when she heard horses, and voices
from down below her window.
Charlie, who'd been worried over what Murdoch would tell Scott, and what Scott might say, scrambled up from her seat, and
turned the lamp down, shifting the room into near-darkness.
She climbed into bed, under the quilt, and tried to quiet her thumping heart. Even though Murdoch had said he would
talk to Scott on her behalf, Charlie felt nervous. She tried to still her breathing.
It would take Scott a few minutes before he came up. He would be in the library by now, talking to Murdoch. And then, it might
take a few minutes more before he came upstairs.
When she did hear the sound of boot-steps in the hall, she turned to her side, and closed her eyes.
Maybe if he thought she was asleep, he might wait until tomorrow to talk to her about it. It was a good plan.
The steps stopped outside her door, and then it opened, and a sliver of light from the hall came into the room.
There was a shifting, as he sat down on the edge of her bed.
Without preamble, Scott turned the lamp back up, and said, "I know you're awake, Charlie. I saw you turn the lamp down
when I was riding in."
Charlie turned from her side to her back, to look up at him.
"Did you and Johnny have a good time?" she asked, trying to sound cheerful.
"It was fine," he said, and then put a hand on either side of her legs, so that he was leaning a bit closer.
"How was your evening?" he countered, knowingly.
"You already know," Charlie said, subdued.
"I do. But, I'm asking you."
"I was arguing," Charlie said, with a sigh. "And I should not have been." She folded one arm underneath her head.
"The arguing didn't work out so well for you, did it?" he asked.
Charlie sighed. "No."
"So it's something you want to avoid in the future?"
"Yes, Scott," she said, and sighed again.
"Alright."
When she'd made her hurried scramble to the bed, Charlie had toted her book with her, and it was under the bedclothes.
Scott felt it there, and lifted the quilt to take it out.
"I'll read a few pages from this tonight. Alright?"
Charlie nodded, glad that he was done talking about what she'd done. So, he read from the book, while Charlie watched his face
as he read, thinking that he made the words real, as if they came alive.
When he was done, he laid the book on the night table.
"Sleep well," he told her, and kissed her forehead.
L
The next day at school, the talk was of what had happened, amongst the kids at recess.
Lucy, being the only one of the kids who had heard with her own ears what was being said, was full of self-importance.
"Some of the men were saying that they were going to pay a visit to that old man," Lucy said, enjoying having the attention of
the whole group surrounding her. "Tell him that they know what he's been up to."
"You mean threaten him?" one of the other girls asked.
"They should," Thomas said. "Maybe then he'll stop going thru stuff that don't belong to him, and stealin'."
Charlie, who had stayed quiet mostly, said, "What's the harm if he goes thru what other folks throw away?"
A few of the youngsters in the circle looked as though they agreed with Charlie, but others, like Monte, proclaimed
loudly that Charlie was stupid for thinking that way.
"And, besides," he said, with a sneer at Charlie, "He's stealin' from folks' homes and stores now."
"Maybe he isn't," Charlie said.
Monte stepped closer to her. "What's that mean?" he demanded.
"It means, maybe he isn't," Charlie repeated.
At that, Monte began to laugh, at first, but then he looked serious and all angry again.
"I'm thinkin' you're just as crazy as that old man is," he accused.
"Leave her alone, Monte," Jason said, warningly.
"It's okay," Charlie said. "It doesn't matter to me what an imbecile thinks of me."
At Monte's confused look, some of the other kids laughed.
"He don't even know what that means!" Thomas hooted.
Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how a person viewed it, Miss Susan came out and rang the school bell, summoning
her students back into the schoolhouse.
L
Once school was dismissed for the day, Charlie made quick work of getting to the stable, to collect her horse. Then, at the
juncture where she could turn and head home, to Lancer, or go the other direction, to the right, she chose right.
She would, Charlie told herself, only take a few minutes. If the old man was out in the yard, she would talk to him. Just for a couple of
minutes. She wouldn't even get off of Gurth to do so. She would offer him the piece of pie that she hadn't eaten at lunchtime.
Then she planned to ask him if he needed food. She could talk to the family then. The Lancers were good, kind people. Murdoch often
looked after a couple of elderly neighbors, who had no family nearby. They wouldn't begrudge giving a few groceries to an old man.
She just wouldn't mention that she had ridden out to the shack.
L
At the edge of the road, just before the grass began that led to where the shack sat, Charlie pulled Gurth to a stop.
There was no sign of the shabby man in the yard, or on the porch. There were, however, dogs lying there. They raised their
heads immediately, eyeing Charlie.
And then they began to bark, as only a hound dog can. Their mouths raised to the sky, and baying. One of them got up.
Wondering if she should just turn Gurth about, and made a speedy return to town, Charlie was debating. And then,
he was there, at the corner of the house, a rifle in hand.
He stood there, saying only, "Quiet!" to the barking dogs. Then, silence. Staring at Charlie.
Charlie took a deep breath, and called, "Hello!" to him.
No answer.
"I came to ask you something!" she called out then.
"Can't hear ya. Come closer," he called in return.
Charlie shook her head.
"I say, come closer!"
Charlie shook her head again.
The old man took a few steps. Not many. Just enough to measure a couple of feet, or so.
"What you want?" he hollered. "Come 'round here to bother me agin?"
There was no sweet, musical lilt to his voice. No strange but intriguing snippets. And the dogs had barked. All signs pointed
to the likelihood that this was the man in his 'surly' and unfriendly mode. Not gentle and kind as he was at other times.
"I didn't come to bother you," Charlie said. "I only wanted to see if you needed some food."
"Eh?" he called.
"Something to eat!" Charlie hollered, raising her voice. "Do you need something to eat?"
The man took another few steps closer. He spat a stream of tobacco onto the ground beside his shoe.
"You goin' to fetch me some vittles is ya?" he said, sounding unbelieving.
"I could," Charlie said, trying to sound as though he wasn't unnerving her, staring as he was.
"What sort of vittles you reckon to bring 'round?" he asked, stepping another foot or so closer.
"Some fruit-and some meat, maybe. And I could bring a cake or maybe a pie. Some bread," Charlie said.
"Well, now, that sounds right fine. Just real hospitable."
"I'll talk to my family," Charlie said. "And maybe we can bring it tomorrow or the next day-"
"I don't want no nosy no-goods comin' 'round," the old man said.
"They're not no-goods," Charlie defended. "They're good people."
"Like others 'round this town, humph?" he snorted. "Ain't no good folks 'round here."
"Well, they are," Charlie said stoutly. "My family is, anyway."
"Humph," he snorted again. "Well, you bring them vittles, but you come alone. Don't be draggin' anybody else with ya."
"I can't come by myself," Charlie said.
"Why that be?" the old man asked, scowling.
"Because." Charlie hesitated. "I just can't, that's all. If you want the food, then I'll have somebody come with me to bring it."
"You just never mind, then," he said, and turned to begin walking back to the shack. Limping.
"You don't need to feel that way," Charlie called after him. "My family wouldn't do you any harm!"
He stopped, turning to stare back at her.
"Who that be, you're talkin' of?" he asked. "Your Pa? Granddad?"
Charlie hesitated. It was so complicated to explain. Scott was like her father. Yet, he wasn't truly her father. He was young to be her
father. Still, it was easier that way. And Murdoch was very definitely like a grandfather.
"Yes," Charlie said.
"Who they be?"
"Scott Lancer," Charlie said.
The old man spat another stream of tobacco at the ground.
"Kin to Murdoch Lancer?" he asked.
"Yes. That's his father."
The old man hobbled back over closer. He stretched out a gnarled hand to touch Gurth on the nose.
"Murdoch Lancer your granddad?" he demanded.
"Yes," Charlie said, again deciding on the simple explanation of their family dynamics.
"What about that Madrid fella? I've heared of him."
"That's Johnny," Charlie said, and hesitated. "And he's not Madrid. He's Johnny Lancer."
"He your kin, too?"
"My uncle," Charlie said, simply.
"That right?" the old man asked, eyeing Charlie. Even at that moment, Charlie tried to decipher if one of those eyes was glass.
"Well, well," he went on, and then turned to start limping towards the shack again. "Come on up to the porch, and we'll talk on it," he said,
over his shoulder.
"I can't. I have to get home," Charlie said.
"Go ahead on, then," he said, not turning around.
"Do you want the food?" Charlie called.
"Said so, didn't I?"
"What about Murdoch? Can he come with me?" Charlie hollered.
"Murdoch Lancer wouldn't waste his time with the likes of me," was the old man's response.
"That's not so!" Charlie called.
Nearly to the porch now, the man motioned to the dogs, who all came to stand beside him.
"Yes or no?!" Charlie called, determined to get him to commit.
"Suit yourself," was the final response, as the old man, and the three dogs, all went into the door of the shack, before it was closed
shut again.
L
Charlie galloped Gurth part of the way home, to make up for the lost few minutes. She was feeling good inside. Though
puzzling over how to approach this venture to the family.
L