Obadiah

Ten

"What was that all about?"

Obadiah looked away from the door that Guinevere left out and turned to Beaumont.

Obadiah stared dryly at the man.

He didn't know what he was talking about.

Beaumont smiled strangely and nodded at the door. "Guinevere Klein, I didn't know she was your sweetheart,"

Sweetheart.

"Oh, come on, you don't think I could tell?" Beaumont pressed, his strange smile growing wider.

Obadiah thought the man was weird.

The only conversations they had were about honey and delivery.

That was enough for him.

"She's a pretty little thing, got a trail of hounds after her," Beaumont added with a whistle. "I tell you, if she were my sweetheart, I'd never let her out of my sight,"

The man was talking too much.

"Such delightful white skin, strange she's negro," He said wistfully. "I figure you don't mind the negro part, huh? Guess you can ignore it, she don't look the part,"

Obadiah looked down at the annoying man. "Stop talking." He demanded.

Beaumont looked up with a smirk, and he hummed. "Ah, you didn't know she was negro. From what I hear, she don't tell folks. But I hear her mama was a negro,"

Obadiah held Beaumont's gaze with a strong glare. "It wasn't a question." He took his empty crate and left the mercantile.

He was annoyed.

Beaumont's chatter was stupid.

Guinevere was not his sweetheart.

And he didn't care if she was negro or green.

She was nice, and he didn't mind her chatter, unlike Beaumont's.

He didn't understand what the man got out of talking so much.

Obadiah stood in the square, contemplating his next move.

He could go home to quiet, until night fell and torment arose, or he could go see Guinevere.

He wasn't sure if he could learn today. His nightmares kept him awake last night. His focus wouldn't be right. He didn't want to waste her time.

"Mr. Quentin,"

A familiar voice called.

He turned and found Delores, a kind woman whom he'd met thirty years ago.

She was one of the few people who respected his word before 1870's event.

He liked the woman.

"Mrs. Hayworth," He nodded at the very short woman.

Shorter than Guinevere.

She smiled brightly. "I see you've finished making deliveries,"

He nodded.

"Wonderful," Her smile changed and her light blue eyes twinkled. "You wouldn't be on your way to Guinevere's for your lesson?"

He shrugged at the small older woman.

"Oh, but you should. The Lord is faithful to answer our prayers, and yet He does it in the way we least expect it." She sang happily. "I do believe she'll be waiting for you. And from what I hear, you're a brilliant student,"

Guinevere talked to her about him?

He didn't expect that.

Though, she was an unexpected woman.