Letters and Love

Chapter Twenty-Six: Noah

~*~

Maybe it was Westler's concerns, but I did not sleep well. I startled awake at every sound. Strong coffee was the remedy when I rose at dawn, so I set a pot on to brew. I might have drank it before starting on my chores, but I didn't want to disturb my guest.

Stretched out on the floor, Westler slept on as I went out to care for the morning chores.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, making the sky glow red. The old saying ran through my mind: Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.

Oh, dear. Looked like there might be some bad weather. It had been too warm for snow, but it wouldn't have been unusual for the time of year. Hopefully it would be nothing more than a thunderstorm.

By the time I had finished feeding the horses and mucking the stalls, the sky had become cloudy. Yet, the air was still. Definitely a storm brewing, though it was impossible to tell when it would hit.

Westler was sipping a cup of coffee when I walked in. "What are your plans for today?" he asked.

"I'm going over to the Harpers' place to spend the day with Elizabeth," I told him honestly. "We have a wedding to plan."

The marshal snorted. "What is there to plan?" he asked. "You just have to show up in front of the preacher, say your vows, and that's it. Your girl isn't going to want a big fuss, is she?"

I needed coffee before I felt up to conversing with the man. Years of living on my own had made conversation this early in the morning unusual.

"If Elizabeth wants a fuss, I think she deserves a fuss."

"I never would have imagined a man could be wound around the finger of a woman he just met," Westler commented, shaking his head.

It might have been a combination of stress and lack of sleep, but my temper was rising. "You have some nerve," I said to him, trying to keep my voice even, "to sit in my home and drink my coffe, and think that gives you the right to critisize how I do things."
Immediately, Westlr raised his hands. "If I've offended—"

"Yes. You have," I interrupted.

"Alright. I've offended you. I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth Garrison and I have been exchanging letters for months now," I informed him, though it really was none of his business. "She is not someone I just met. She is the woman I have come to know and love. I will not stand for anyone to insult her."

Westler had kept his hands up. "It was not my intention to disparage the lady. I was simply making a joke. A little levity seemed like a good idea after yesterday."

"It wasn't a very good joke."

"Alright. Again, I'm sorry." Slowly, he lowered his hands to grab his cup of coffee. "I won't say another word about your bride-to-be, I promise. What you do is your business after all."

Satisfied he would keep his word, I poured myself some coffee. "Do you have plans today?" I asked to change the subject.

"I'm going to head into town," Westler answered, looking relieved. "I'll see if I can find someone who might have seen Owen Burns around or might know something about where he is."

"If you haven't already, talk to Collins at the general store. He knows more about what's going on than anyone I've ever met. But," I added, just for the sake of honesty, "that doesn't mean he's always got the facts right."

"The town gossip?"

I shrugged. Collins was a gossip, but there was no reason to call anyone names. "He talks to everyone who comes into his store, and he can see who comes into town," I said. "The only other personw ho would have eyes on the town is Mrs. Royal, who runs the restauraunt."