by Danni Roan
“Heaven have mercy,” Molly said. “How bad is it?”
“When we got there the hens were in the rafters in a cloud of feathers while the boys where pushing each other around on fully loaded shovels, while standing up.”
Molly’s dark eyes turned on the boys and they huddled together.
“Sorry Ma,” they said in unison. “We thought it was a good plan.”
Molly Bentley’s shook her head. “Go fetch water and get a fire going. You’ll fill the tub, bathe then fill it again for the whole family.”
“Yes Ma’am,” the boys said, turning and shuffling back out the door.
Bill leaned over and kissed Molly on the cheek before following his son’s outside.
From the corner of his eye Titus caught a glimpse of Sarah Jane doubled over next to the fire place laughing silently as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Offering her a wink, he stepped out the door, trotting to catch up with his host.
Chapter 17
“PA, MA SAYS YOU’RE to come in and get cleaned up.” Sarah Jane stuck her head into the chicken coop an hour later. She was holding a light brown chicken in her arms, stroking it soothingly.
“We’re almost done,” Mr. Bentley called, smiling up at his daughter as he dumped another scoop of refuse into a bucket.
“Why don’t you go on Bill,” Titus said. “I’ll finish up here. The works making this shoulder loosen up nicely.”
“You sure?” Bill asked standing and stretching his back.
“I’m sure,” Titus smiled, keeping his tone quiet so as not to disturb the few chickens who had returned to their boxes.
“I’ll stay with him, Pa,” Sarah Jane said, “in case he feels faint or anything.”
Bill Bentley cut his eyes back to Titus. “You feeling poorly again?”
“No sir,” Titus said.
“Well Sarah you stay anyway. He might get lost coming back to the house, or maybe even fall of a hill or something,” he chuckled making Titus shake his head. He wouldn’t live that misstep down for a while.
Mr. Bentley made his way out of the small structure offering his daughter a smile. “See you at the house.”
Sarah Jane watched Titus heft the shovel and carefully dump its contents into the bucket.
“The chickens seem calmer now,” she finally said after the next three scoops.
“The one you’re holding seems content,” Titus commented.
“I’ve always been good with animals,” Sarah Jane said. “Ma says it’s because I’m calm.”
“Is it true?”
Sarah Jane shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t get upset easily though. I think things are funny.”
“Like your brothers coming home covered in chicken feathers and...”
“Refuse.” Sarah Jane said her lips tugging into a smile.
“Refuse.”Titus agreed returning her smile.
“Yes, actually I think it’s very funny. Ma should have known to give specific instructions as to how the chicken coop should be cleaned.”
“So this is normal for your brothers.”
Again the young woman shrugged, her slim shoulders lifting in indifference. “They’re boys, and they get bored easily.” She offered as explanation.
“Are they always in trouble?”
“Not always,” Sarah Jane said, “only most of the time.” She added with a soft laugh. “They’re only ten you know, much younger than I am, and honestly I think Ma indulged them a little too long.”
Titus eyebrows rose. He couldn’t see Mrs. Bentley indulging anyone.
“She’s gotten much stricter in the last few years.” Sarah Jane said carrying the now sleeping chicken inside and placing her gently in a box.
“I honestly think that Ma thought she’d never have any more children after me. I’m nearly ten years their senior. When she got the twins, she was so delighted it softened her a bit.”
“Was she strict with you?”
“No more than I would expect. Ma is a sensible woman, at least most of the time, but we all doted on Calvin and Melvin when they first arrived. Besides they were more work than a twenty mule team. We all had to pitch in.”
Titus smiled. He could see how fond Sarah Jane was of her brothers, and he could also see how to rambunctious boys could add an element of chaos and humor to a young woman’s life.
Titus dumped the last load of dung into the bucket then lifted the rope handle carrying it and the shovel out the door.
He paused when Sarah Jane didn’t follow him out and turned back to see her pulling scratch feed from her apron pocket and scattering it on the now clean floor.
“Ready?” she asked, stepping outside into the brisk air. “I imagine you’ll have a nice hot tub waiting when you get home.”
Titus fell into step with Sarah Jane in companionable silence. They had just reached the front door when she stopped and turned to him.
“Are you really a deputy?” she asked.
“For now, yes,” Titus offered honestly.
“You don’t look like one.”
“What do I look like then?”
The young woman placed a finger over her pink lips and then took a turn around him.
“A lot of things,” she said. “Maybe, you’ll need to be a few more things before you know what you are, but I think you may have started out as a farmer.”
Titus raised an eye brow, “Why would you say that?”
“The way you used that shovel today. You knew how to use it efficiently without wasted effort.”
She turned dark questioning eyes toward him wondering what he’d say.
Titus ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling the hint of sweat from his excursions. “I wish I knew,” he finally said.
Sarah Jane Bentley looked up into Titus blue eyes, meeting his gaze boldly as if she were trying to see into his soul.
“Why?” she asked simply.
Titus ran a finger along the scar on his scalp, feeling the raised line left by a bullet so many months ago. “I have no memory of who I was before an old prospector found me left for dead in the desert.”
Sarah Jane stepped up to him, her hand drawn toward the white scar on his head. “You’re a good man,” she said quietly, “that’s all that matters.”
Titus shivered as the young woman’s hand traced the scar that parted his hair line and he closed his eyes on a sigh.
Opening his eyes on empty space Titus felt as if he’d lost something all over again. Miss Sarah Jane had been so sure, so positive of who he was; he wished he could be.
Chapter 18
TITUS MOVED HIS PACKS into a small Spartan room provided by the brothers at the mission. It was a narrow room with plastered walls, a hard cot, and a tiny wash stand, but it was warm and clean, so he was grateful.
Sprawling out on the narrow bed he gazed up at the ceiling thinking about what Sarah Jane had said.
Why had she thought he’d been a farmer? Was their some tell-tale sign in a way a man worked that pointed to his past?
Gingerly he touched the scar on his head. It hadn’t killed him, but it had stolen his life. He was grateful to Jed and to Sheriff Davis for the life he had gained, but who was he really?
Behind the work, the daily routine of his living something nagged at him. In another month it would be two years since Jed had found him.
What had he left behind? Did he have a family who was looking for him? Did he have a sweet heart, a wife, children?
He was old enough to have been married for at least a year or two, but there had been nothing in his saddle bags to indicate a wife.
Rising he took the few steps to his bags and pulled out the little card that had at least given him a name.
“Good luck Titus, see you next time you get home, Abner.”
He read the words but no spark caught in his mind bringing to light a past he’d lost so recently.
Settling on the bed, he stared at the card. It was neatly written, but in an immature hand. Perh
aps he’d set out on his own leaving behind a brother, a mother, a father.
Thinking about it made his head throb, and he leaned back against the cool adobe walls closing his eyes, trying to squeeze out the questions as much as the light.
Sitting there for several moments, he turned the name Abner over in his mind, worrying it like smooth pebble, but nothing came.
Wearily he rose returning the card to his bags then stripped down and crawled under the brightly colored woven blankets seeking the peace of sleep.
“GOOD MORNING,” SARAH Jane said as Titus walked into the small house his hosts had been given by the mission.
“Morning,” Titus replied, taking his hat from his head.
“Did you sleep well?” the young woman asked turning from the stove to study him.
Titus smiled. “Not really. You got my brain working, and it was hard to shut it down.” Something about the girl’s eyes made him answer honestly.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Sarah Jane said. “Coffee’s ready and I’ll whip up some breakfast.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, have a seat. The boy’s are out brushing the horses, and Ma and Pa are having a late morning.”
Again Titus smiled at her as he pulled out a chair and took a seat.
Sarah Jane place a large mug of coffee before him, pushing the creamer and sugar bowl toward him, and watching to see how he’d take his coffee.
“You drink it black,” she said, a statement, an observation.
“Yes.”
“I only drink it with loads of cream and a bit of sugar,” Sarah Jane said turning back to the stove and pulling down an iron skillet.
“This is all Jed could ever manage, so I drink it like he did.”
Sarah Jane cut strips of bacon placing them in the pan then broke several eggs into a bowl and whisked them.
“I hope scrambled eggs are alright,” she spoke. “It makes it easier to feed a larger group.”
In only a few minutes, she’d cooked the meal and set two plates at the table pouring a cup of coffee for herself and taking a seat across from Titus.
“Would you say grace?” she asked her dark eyes meeting his blue.
Titus dropped his gaze and offered a prayer, surprised when she slipped her hand into his.
“What are you going to do now?” Sarah Jane asked as he finished his prayer and picked up his fork.
“I was planning on eating this wonderful breakfast,” Titus said with a laugh.
Sarah Jane laughed, a bright smile spreading across her face and adding a sparkle to her eyes.
For some reason Titus felt at ease with the young woman across from him. She was quick to notice things, open, and kind enough to feed him.
“I mean now that you know we’re safe. Will you go back to Hester or stay here?”
“I need to make sure that Sheriff Davis knows where I am and that you and your folks are safe.”
“You could send a runner.” Sarah Jane said.
“A runner?”
“Yes, the priests here employ some of the younger men to carry messages to a town about forty miles away. Some of the native women say that it’s a big competition with the boys. They compete to see who can get to town the fastest.”
“If they send these runners out regularly why do you think we never heard down in Hester that you folks were here?”
Sarah Jane shrugged and Titus smiled. The answer was both clear and profound. “If I were you, I’d go see Brother John after breakfast. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Oh good morning,” Mrs. Bentley stepped into the room followed by her husband. “I didn’t know you were up already,” she finished looking between her daughter and Titus.
“Calvin and Melvin woke me. They wanted breakfast.”
Mrs. Bentley looked around the room as if expecting the boys to spring from thin air. “Where are they?” she asked suspiciously.
“Tending the horses,” Sarah Jane offered with a smile. “Ever since Bobbin nipped Calvin they’re careful of their work around the horses.”
“You’re a smart girl,” Mrs. Bentley said walking to the table. “Mornin’ Titus.”
“Bill, Molly.” Titus greeted.
“Mama you sit down and have a cup of coffee, and I’ll get you and Pa some breakfast then I’ll take Mr. Titus to see Brother John. He needs to send a message.”
Twenty minutes later, Titus found himself walking along beside Sarah Jane who was draped in a heavy, geometrically patterned black and white shawl.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Sarah Jane said quietly, “but I think you’d be wise to stay her for the winter. You can decide what to do in the spring when we leave.”
“Why do you think I should stay?”
Sarah Jane laid a hand on his sleeve stopping him and he turned to gaze into her pretty face.
“You still don’t know who you are, maybe just taking some time off from travel and work will let you figure it out.”
They walked along a dusty track toward the high walled chapel as a cold wind blew off the surrounding snow capped hills.
It was a quiet little hollow in the midst of high stone cliffs, and though cold, it was sheltered from the worst of winter’s fury.
Several buildings dotted the valley: a barn, the chicken coop, five or six pueblo style houses, and the tall structure of the church itself whose high peaked roof and tall bell tower glowed bright orange in the morning sun.
“It’s pretty here isn’t it?” Sarah Jane asked. “As if the rest of the world has passed it by leaving it in peace.”
Titus took in the scene again trying to see it the way she’d described.
Several squaws and indian children worked near a well washing or carrying water further back into the treed slopes.
An occasional pony would trot by, a serious faced brave seated tall and straight on its back.
“I see what you mean,” Titus said. “Everyone here is working together in their own way.”
“That’s because at the end of the day they share one common bond: faith.”
Titus scratched his ear. It did seem like the village that had grown up around the mission had some secret for getting along.
Sarah Jane stopped before heavy wooden doors set in the sand stone walls of the church and pulled one open ushering Titus inside.
Stepping into the darker recesses of the chapel Titus blinked letting his eyes adjust. Along the front of the church he could see candles flickering, their soft light shimmering off of a simple silver cross and a chalice.
“Sarah Jane,” a priest in a dark robe called hustling toward them up the aisle between hand carved pews. “What brings you to us today my dear?” His eyes fell on Titus as he reached out and took Sarah Jane’s hands between his.
“Father John, this is Titus. I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet.”
“No, no.” Father John said stretching out his hand to Titus. “I believe Brother Mark found him accommodations though.”
“Please to meet you padre.” Titus said shaking the other man’s hands. He was surprised to find them strong and calloused.
“Come in, come in,” the priest beckoned them forward. “We’ll step into the office where I have a small fire.”
A moment later Titus and Sarah Jane were seated on two hand-carved chairs before a beautiful heavily polished desk while the priest took a third chair behind it.
“Father we were wondering if perhaps a runner could go to the telegraph station in Shady.”
“I see, you feel that it would be wise to ask someone to brave the weather over the pass?”
“I think it might be important enough to try,” Sarah Jane persisted. “Mr. Titus was sent to find my family by a sheriff in Hester, Nevada. Apparently my uncle never received our note in Biders Clump, and they’ve been looking for us. I’d hate anyone else to have an accident like Mr. Titus because no one knows we’re here.”
; “You make a good point,” Father John said. “I’ll speak with the council and see if they want to risk it.”
Sarah Jane smiled, “That’s all we ask,” she said rising. “I know I wouldn’t want to travel in this weather, but some of the men here slip out on a regular basis to carry messages, or collect supplies. I’m sure they won’t let anyone go if they think it’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll be sure to impress that thought on them my dear,” The parson smiled. “In the mean time please show our guest around. I believe they’re making bread at the bakery this morning, perhaps you’ll take a couple of loaves home with you.”
“We will padre,” Sarah Jane said squeezing the man’s hand. “Let us know what is decided please.”
“Have a good day my child,” the priest said, waving them out the door.
“He seems like a friendly man,” Titus said. “Not what I’d expect from the leader of the mission.”
“Father John is much more I think than meets the eye. For example I know that he has carved each and every piece of furniture in the chapel and in many of the other buildings as well. He’s been teaching the younger boys the trade and hopes that they will be able to sell items at some point.”
“That explains the calluses,” Titus mused.
Sarah Jane smiled cheekily, “You noticed did you?”
“Hm. Oh yes,” Titus said offering his own smile. “If you’ll pardon me for saying so, for a young woman you seem to notice a great deal yourself.”
“Do I?” Sarah Jane asked innocently.
Titus cut his eyes toward her noticing the twitching of her lips.
“Yes,” He insisted.
“I like watching people,” Sarah Jane said. “Sometimes they’re very interesting.”
“How?”
“Take that woman working there,” she said nodding in the direction of a short Indian woman whose long braids trailed far below her waist.
“What about her?” Titus asked.
“She’s been injured at some time. She always favors her left arm. You can barely notice, but if you watch, you’ll see it.”
Titus studied the woman as they walked along the warn paths of the village, and finally noticed the slightest hesitation when the woman used her left arm.
