Letters and Love

Chapter Twelve: Noah

Less than two weeks had passed since my last letter to Elizabeth. I knew I couldn't expect a reply yet, but that didn't keep me from hoping there would be one. I hoped she would be understanding about what I had shared.

Many people had a negative opinion of anyone who came from the South, no matter that that person's opinion had been regarding the war. It was a prejudice that chafed because of how unfair it was. I'd left my home state before the war for a reason. I'd seen how the political state was heading and wanted no part in any of it.

And even coming West, I'd encountered people who heard my accent and assumed I was a rebel trying to escape punishment. This had resulted in countless fights over the years. I'd learned quickly how to defend myself. As of yet, I'd avoided a gunslinger. I knew if I faced someone fast with a gun, I was a dead man.

I had no idea how the people of Indiana had viewed the war. Some states had been passionate abolitionists, others more focused on keeping the country together. Either viewpoint would influence how Elizabeth took my news.

In fact, I was a little surprised that Burns hadn't tried to use my origins against me in his campaign to ruin me. It seemed like the most obvious detail about me that he would have used to blacken my reputation.

Maybe he just hadn't realized? After the first two years on my own, I'd done my best to purge the Southern drawl from my speech. Now, I prided myself on a neutral way of speaking, though my accent came out if I wasn't careful enough.

In any event, I focused on making any needed repairs on my barn. I knew from growing up just easily a small thing can become a major problem if it was left too long. And if, somehow, Elizabeth forgave me, I wanted to have the place looking it's best for her.

How I hoped she would forgive me!

When night fell, I was more than ready to take to my bed. I'd fallen into the habit of wishing the photograph good night before I blew out the lamp. A sentimental thing that would have earned me teasing if anyone knew.

Something woke me in the middle of the night.

I lay awake on my bed, frowning up at the dark. My mind was still fuzzy from sleep as I tried to work out what had disturbed my sleep. I was sure I'd left Winston outside to patrol his domain, so he hadn't jumped up on my face, something he tended to do whenever he was inside during the night.

All of the sudden, I realized that it was lighter in the room than it had been when I first opened my eyes. How had it gone from pitch black to something resembling just past dawn? I can only blame my sleep filled mind for how long it took for me to register the light forming through the window.

Not the rose-gold of the sun coming up. It was the red-orange glow of something on fire.

I sat upright. And swung my legs off the bed. Fire? What could be on fire at this time of the night? The glow was growing brighter, meaning it was close and getting bigger. I shoved my feet into my boots, anxious to see what was happening. Without bothering with a shirt or jeans, I reaced for the front door, stumbling around the kitchen table.

My growing suspicion was confirmed as soon as I stepped out into the cool air: the barn was on fire.

"No!" left my lips, though I knew no one would be near enough to hear me. No one, that is, who would help me. It was on me to save my barn and everything in it. My first reaction was to try to run to the structure to open the door.

My common sense reasserted itself, though, and I changed direction. The snap and crackle of fire consuming logs filled the air as I ran to the well. I hauled on the rope to draw up the bucket, only to realize when the rope rached the top that the bucket had been cut off.