Between the Raindrops

Back in the Saddle

Arthur dared hope they would buy that land.

Sure, it was not California. But it was pretty country all the same, afire with colour in the fall and all powder and crystal come winter. Graphite didn't do it justice. They wintered comfortably enough in those rolling foothills, teeming with game and he wondered what it might be like to own a small piece of such earth and grow something, even if wild and unruly. To put down roots...

It was mid-afternoon in Blackwater. Hosea had gone back to the rooms to count their gains and rest. With each winter, time affected him a little more. Coughs shook a little harder, joints stiffened and left lingering aches.

So Arthur strolled along Main Street, going it alone. Bathed and dressed a little finer, he looked the part. Listening to the innocent banter of decent, honest folk. Alert to anything his clever partner might be able to exploit. The conversation blew around him, like bits of paper.

How are you? How's the missus? Fine weather we're havin'! Jimmy Buller is on the mend. Can't wait for that railway line, helluva thing. Won't need to rely just on coaches anymore. Lasky's havin' a sale on fresh goods today...

A fine dust clung to the air, diffusing the late afternoon light. Clip-clopping hooves and the rumbling, creaking, of wood on cobblestone drowned out the birds. Hammering and call-outs and the bleating of city living, a racket compared to the serenity beyond Blackwater's limits. Men toiled in the fine spring sun. Hoisting beams and securing joists, building their town with their own hands and Arthur found he respected the principal of it. Nor could he deny it was nice to stay in town, getting a bath and sleeping in a proper bed after so long. But Arthur preferred the quiet of the range and the peace he found there.

Then he saw Doctor Emelia come out of the Surgery. A spot of sunshine on the paving stones, dressed as she was in a white blouse and sunflower yellow skirt. She staggered along, a set of black saddlebags weighted on her slim shoulder. She listed to that side, the bright pleated fabric swirling around her.

"What the Hell," he breathed. Arthur quickening his step, threading his way down the busy sidewalk.

"Howdy, Doc," he hollered, before he could change his mind.

She paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Oh...," she said, colour draining from her face at the sight of him. "Uh, hello, Mr. Morgan. Um, how do you do?

"Well enough," he replied.

"I... I have not forgotten my, um, debt to Mr. Strauss."

"What are you doin'?" Arthur asked instead. He closed the distance with purpose and gestured to the leather sacks. "You tryin' to catch yerself lumbago?"

"I... but you can't..." She giggled, smiling at him. The sunlight touched her face, highlighting the soft dusting of freckles across her nose and turning her eyes to amber. "Oh, never mind."

He reached for the bags. "May I?"

The doctor frowned, leaning back on her heel. "But, I need these supplies, sir."

"I ain't here to collect," he groused.

She stared at him a moment, then down the road, chewing her bottom lip in deliberation. No doubt considering how much further she had to walk. "Well... if it isn't too much trouble, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur nodded. "No trouble at all."

She smiled again and allowed him to grasp the straps. Glass tinkled inside the secured confines as Arthur hoisted the bags to his shoulder.

"You know, most folk would let their horse do this sorta liftin'..."

"Well...I'm not comfortable riding through town."