Chapter Four

The two men sat by the fire and Adam had accepted Elias' offer of a glass of hard cider.

"This has as much of a kick as whiskey," Adam said. "I'm not that familiar with hard cider—I always thought it would taste like a strong apple juice but this is an eye opener—a bit like a dry wine only sweeter."

"Glad you like it." Elias took big slugs from his glass and then refilled it, offering more to Adam who declined; he didn't want to get drunk but that seemed to be Elias' goal. So Elias and Adam sat while Rachel and Sonny slept and Elias explained the situation with Jeb Truck.

It seemed that Truck had offered to buy Elias Fells' adjoining property many times and each time, Fell refused. Then slowly, Truck began taking possession of any cattle that wandered onto his property. Elias swore that Truck's men were tearing down lines, stealing the cattle and changing brands. He went to the sheriff of the nearby town who said that he had no jurisdiction over the cattle business—didn't know enough and didn't really care. He did offer advice though, give up on cattle and take to farming.

So Elias decided that he would go and take back his cattle; it was obvious which ones had a running iron used on them and had his brand, E joined with a hanging F for Elias Fell, changed to a JE with a hanging B for JEB. But while Elias was out gathering a few of his beeves on Truck's land, cattle that he would have sworn in court were his, he was shot and left to die. He managed to get back on his horse and he said that he must have passed out a few yards from the house as the next thing he knew, Sonny and Rachel were dragging him across the ground toward the house.

While he was recovering, he convinced Rachel to get the sheriff; he wanted Truck and his men arrested even though he didn't know who had shot him but the sheriff refused; if Elias was trespassing, the sheriff said, then he deserved to be shot and was damn lucky he wasn't dead and another thing, Elias couldn't even say exactly who had shot him. Who should be arrested? And Truck had visited Elias while he was recovering in his home and offered to buy his property again. Rachel wanted Elias to sell and move on—she was afraid- but Elias refused; it was his land and he wasn't leaving.

By the end of the story, Elias was obviously drunk. He became angry as he told Adam the events and Adam watched, all his muscles tense; he didn't like drunks—they were too unpredictable.

"I'll help you fix up your property," Adam said, "but I don't want anything to do with this man, Truck. I'm not stealing cattle even if they are yours; I know cattle rustling is a hanging offense. I didn't survive the war just to be gunned down or hanged in Kansas. And if you're hoping for a hired gun, I'm not the one you want."

"No." Elias said. "All you have to do is help me get this place in shape. I want the lines put back up good and strong and then I'm going to change my brand even though I was here first, buy some cattle and start again. I've been knocked down before but I always get up."

"Well, thank you for the cider," Adam said. "I'm tired and need a good night's sleep if I'm going to earn my keep."

Elias stood and wavered on his feet. Adam waited to see if he had to catch the man but Elias righted himself and told Adam goodnight and headed off to his bedroom. Adam went to the room off the kitchen in the back of the house, more of a large closet than a room but he didn't need more than that and he was pleased to see that Rachel had made up a bed of sorts for him. It wasn't particularly soft but it was softer than the ground where he had slept for so long—so very long.

Adam stripped and then lay on the blankets that had been placed on the floor. There was even a pillow for his head—much better than his saddle which had served for years now. He lay down and pulled the covers up; the room was surprisingly warm and then Adam realized that the oven was on the other side of the wall; no wonder the room was warm and cozy and as long as no mice scampered across him as he slept, he was content. And then he could hear muffled noise and he realized that the room also shared a common wall with the Fells' bedroom.

"Oh, hell," he said as he threw an arm over his eyes. He could hear the creaking of their bed and Elias' groans and then all was quiet. He adjusted the blankets to go to sleep but the picture of Elias and Rachel played in his head and it bothered him. Rachel had come to Elias as a woman to keep his house and his child and ended up as Elias' wife and Adam wondered if she loved him. But then love actually mattered less than he had thought so many years ago—it seemed lifetimes ago. It was obvious to Adam that Elias didn't realize how lucky he was.

Why people didn't ever appreciate what they had, Adam wondered but then he hadn't appreciated his blessings either. He had a good home and a family that loved him but he had left it all behind to join the Union Army; he was no different than anyone else. Elias Fell had a lovely, gentle, young wife half his age and what did he do but get drunk, go to her bed and slobber all over her. Adam considered how long it had been since he had known a woman—it had been back in a small town called Calico. She said her name was Bess and she had cost him a dollar and a half. He had worked hard for the money and usually took care of his own needs but that night, Adam had wanted to hold someone and touch the flesh of a woman so he paid and considered it money well-spent. But that had been almost a year ago and he thought of Rachel and her milky skin and envied Elias Fell.

A noise woke Adam up. He sat up and realized that it was coming from the kitchen. Light was beginning to come from the high window in the small room and Adam realized it was morning already. He quickly dressed and walked out of the room and saw Rachel Fell standing at the stove in a flannel robe. She looked even thinner and younger than she had the night before. Her curly red hair was like a cloud about her face.

"Morning, ma'am," Adam said. "That coffee smells good—could I bother you for a cup?" He hadn't yet fully walked into the kitchen.

"Morning, Mr. Cartwright. Please, sit down. I'll pour you a cup." He smiled and sat down at the kitchen table. He could see knife marks on it and the wood was split from drying out by being so close to the heat. The kitchen chair creaked as well when he sat down. Rachel placed a large white mug before him filled with coffee.

"Help yourself to sugar—well, it's sorghum-and cream," she said pointing to the bowl and small cream pitcher in the middle of the table. "It's been a long time since we had real sugar. Can I get you something to eat?"

"Whatever you fix for your husband and Sonny is fine with me. I don't want to be any trouble."

"You're no trouble. Elias will sleep a bit longer—he had too much of that hard cider last night and Sonny, since it's a school day, he'll sleep as long as I let him but I don't have to wake him for another fifteen minutes or so. I just wanted to get up and make the coffee." Adam looked at her; she did tend to run on, he thought, but then he found it pleasant. "Mind if I sit and join you?"

"Please do," Adam said, rising from the chair and holding out another one for her.

Rachel laughed lightly. "Don't get up, Mr. Cartwright." Rachel poured herself a mug. "And as for pulling out my chair, makes me feel odd. If you'll just sit down, I'd be more comfortable."

Adam smiled at her. "Whatever you would prefer." He sat down and watched as she held the mug in her two hands. She had slender fingers and the backs of her hands were freckled from the sun. He imagined that she worked hard as her nails were short and her hands not cared for. Adam had known ladies before and they always had manicured nails and smooth hands and Rachel wasn't one of them. Suddenly his heart swelled for her. "How old are you, Mrs. Fell, if you don't mind my asking."

"I don't mind; people always want to know when they find out I'm Elias' wife and not his daughter. I'm twenty-two."

"I see."

"How old are you, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Thirty-eight but I feel a hundred and I probably look two hundred."

"I guess war does that to a person. I know it did me. If it weren't for the war…I'm talking too much. Excuse me."

"I've heard nothing but my own voice for so long," Adam said, "that it's nice to hear someone else."

Rachel shyly smiled. "Don't misunderstand why I'm asking but is what you're wearing the only set of clothes you have?"

Adam looked down at his well-worn shirt and trousers. "Yes, ma'am, they're all I have. I suppose they look a bit ragged and they're not the cleanest—I apologize for coming to your table looking like this and I imagine I smell pretty bad too."

"Just a moment," Rachel said and left the table only to return a minute later with a man's soft flannel shirt and folded trousers.

"Today's laundry day. I'd be glad to wash your clothes along with ours and you can wear these today." She handed the clothes to Adam.

"Whose are these?" He held up the shirt; it was too small for Elias and too large for Sonny.

"I think that they may have belonged to Elias' oldest son—I never asked. They've been in a cedar chest."

"If you think it'll be all right with Elias." Adam looked at Rachel's blue eyes; she seemed pretty in the morning light that was now slanting in the window. It formed a nimbus behind her.

"Sure, it will. You go change and I'll take your clothes for washing."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you." He smiled at her, went to his small room, changed and came back out holding his soiled laundry.

"Drop 'em in that basket on the floor there," Rachel said as she stirred batter in a large bowl. "That's my wash." Adam did as he was told. "I hope you like hotcakes," she said.

"Yes, ma'am, I certainly do." So Adam sat and drank coffee while Rachel talked and he smiled at her innocent chatter.