Letters and Love

Chapter Ten: Noah

Summer always seemed to stretch on longer in Wyoming than it ever had back home. The wind blew hot, and the plants tended towards brown when there wasn't enough rain. Though I enjoyed the season, I was looking forward to autumn, when the leaves shifted to orange, yellow, and red. It made the horizon one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen, even if it was a somber reminder that winter was creeping ever closer.

"I'll have to warn Elizabeth about winter so she can be ready," I said. At my feet, a half-grown kitten meowed at me in response. I reached down to run my hand along Winston's back. "No, I wasn't talking to you."

Winston twitched his black tale once and then stalked away. It had only been a couple weeks since I'd picked him up from Earnest's farm and he'd already proved his worth. Twice, I'd woken up to find a half eaten mouse in front of my door.

Though he was the smallest addition to my place, Winston already behaved as if he owned it all. He stalked towards the barn and then vanished inside. With any luck, he would keep the mice population down and keep my grain intact. Or he was going to nap in the straw, a pastime I'd often caught him at.

The deep lowing of cattle made me turn to the corral, where the other new additions were currently staying. I was keeping them close to the barn until I knew they had adjusted to their new home. It would be money lost if any of them wandered away and got lost. Since the majority of my savings had gone into this herd, I wanted to be as careful as I could be.

Not many had cattle here in Wyoming. Though there were a few places I knew of that were branching out into other animals. Some were herding sheep. Most places, once they proved their claim, took to catching wild horses and breaking them as a way to supplement their farms.

My thoughts were pulled out of worry for the future by the approach of a horse. My first instinct was to reach for where my rifle rested against the fence. No one came out my way unless they had a reason, especially this year.

I didn't recognize the black and white horse. Once the rider was closer, I didn't recognize him either. On edge, I raised one hand in greeting as I stepped closer to the rifle, just in case.

"Afternoon," the stranger greeted as he came to a halt. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone."

"Afternoon," I echosed, nodding at him. "Can I help you?"

"No, I'm just passing through," he said, tipping his hat back. "But now that you mention it, mind if I get down for a drink of water? You do have a well here, don't you? Or do you carry your water from some creek?"

There was something about the man I didn't trust, but until I could pin down what that was, I saw no reason to refuse. "Be my guest," I said, gesturing to the well. "There's the well. Name's Coleman. And you are?"

"Folks all call me Port," he responded as he dismounted. It wasn't hard to miss the gun belt he wore. It was an odd thing. Few people wore a gun belt like that unless they meant trouble. Rifles were more reliable. "Where are you from, Coleman? I can't place your accent."

That was an unwelcome question. It had been several years since someone had asked me that. "I've been here for nearly eight years," I told him, keeping my tone short. "I reckon that means I'm from here. Where are you headed, Port?"

He barely glanced over. "To visit my brother."

Fair enough. Neither of us were obligated to answer questions we didn't want to answer, and we both were entitled to our privacy. Still, I put my hand on the rifle barrel, just in case, as I watched him stride to the well. There was already a bucket of water, and he dipped out a good portion of water.

While he drank, I was able to get a good look at him. His clothes were

"Nice place you've got here," he commented once he'd drunk his fill. "You must have put a lot of work into it."