Chapter Twenty-Four: Noah

Elizabeth's request for a serious conversation was entirely reasonable, even if I hadn't expected her to be so straightforward about it. But I really should have known she would be. She had seldom beat around the bush in her letters and it was reassuring to see that she was just the same in person.

Winston trailed behind us as I showed off my small barn. He eyed Elizabeth with curiosity, but didn't quite have the courage to approach her. So much for him being the friendly greeter on the place!

Once inside my home, Elizabeth's expression became much more animated as she took it all in. Naturally, she wouldn't be as curious about the barn animals, even if she had gone to a family member's farm to learn all she could.

"Something smells good," she commented, stepping towards the cast-iron stove I had invested in a couple of years previously.

"Just some potatoes and ham cooking for supper." It was an easy meal to throw into a pot and set to simmer all day. Having a hot meal to look forward to was sometimes all the motivation I needed to get through the day.

"You cook?" Elizabeth turned towards me with one eyebrow raised.

I couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Of course. Out here, if you don't cook, you don't eat. I'm not saying I'm the world's greatest cook, but I get by." It hit me then that I ought to have planned something for lunch. I was the host, after all. "Can I pour you a cup of coffee?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you." Elizabeth took a seat at the table, pulling her floral bonnet off. She ran her hand over her hair as if to make sure it was still in place. "It looks as though you've built up a nice place."

"Thanks. I'm proud of it." I poured out coffee, the other pot I kept on the stove every day. I set the two tin cups on the table and my mind went blank. How had she taken her coffee the day before? "Sugar? Milk?"

"Neither, thank you." She reached out and took one of the cups. "I'm not sure my brother even knows how to make coffee."

"Really? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I don't think my father did either." I hadn't thought about my father in a long time and I didn't want to start now. Clearing my throat, I sat down. "So. Where do you want to start?"

"You've told me about your journey west, but you haven't told me why you came to Wyoming," she said immediately. "Why did you do it alone? From what I've read, most people make the journey with their family."

"Well, my family had no interest in leaving Georgia." Would it be enough to leave it there? No. I had to be honest with Elizabeth. "I can't say that I blame them. They had a good life."

"A good life?" she repeated. Her nose wrinkled slightly. Disdain? "What kind of good life?"

Given the kind of life had been considered good in the South, I could understand the revulsion in her expression. "My father owned a large plantation," I admitted. It had been years since I'd admitted to that truth to anyone. "He owned quite a few slaves as well to keep things running."

The revulsion I'd thought I had seen in her eyes vanished but that only made it impossible to read what she was thinking. There were several moments of silence. Should I keep going? What could I say? Everything that came to mind seemed like excuses, and I wasn't about to excuse anything my family had done.

"How many slaves did your family own?" was her question when she finally spoke.

"I don't know." And it was only right that I felt shame about that. "Maybe twenty? Or it could be more. Personally, I knew the names of five of them. My mother kept me away from the slaves while I was growing up. She thought they would be a bad influence on me."

How I wished I could read her face! What was she thinking? Had my background, what little of it I had told, disgusted her already?

"So your family was wealthy."

"I suppose you could say that," I said slowly, not understanding her comment. "We weren't the wealthiest family in the county by any means, but we never wanted for anything."

The same could not be said for the slaves my father had owned. My father had always claimed he was a good master and that he provided everything a slave could ever want. Lies to assuage his conscience or to keep me from questioning him?

Elizabeth nodded as though she understood. Did this detail change anything? I'd understand if it did. After all, my family's wealth had been earned on the backs of slaves.

"What made you decide to leave all of that behind?"

Did she mean why I had left behind my family's wealth or just the Southern way of life in general?

"I couldn't stay in Georgia," I said honestly. "At first, I thought I could wait it out. Once I inherited from my father, I could do as I wished, right? I could legally free the slaves and change the direction of the plantation. But my father caught me looking into how I could do that. We argued and he swore he would write up his will in a way that would keep me from freeing everyone."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I heaved a sigh. "I don't think my father ever forgave me for betraying his trust like that. He refused to look at me and my mother blamed me for being a rebel."

Wasn't that ironic?

"Why?" Elizabeth asked, tilting her head. "I mean, why did you believe your father was in the wrong? It isn't often that someone just thinks differently from the rest of their family."

"I didn't always believe it was wrong," I admitted. "It was just a part of life and everyone around me lived like that. Even those who were poor aspired to be in a position of owning at least one slave. But when I went to school, I met several people who persuaded me to see how wrong it was to own another person."

The woman across from me blinked. "Where did you attend college?"

"The President and Fellows of Yale College, in New Haven," I answered promptly. "Even though we were well off, my father was ambitious. All the best families educated their sons there, or at Harvard, and he would do no less. If he'd known what I would learn there, I doubt he would have sent me."

And honestly, a classical education had been useless. I mean, it had been interesting studying ancient languages, but what practical purpose did they serve? It wasn't as though I learned medicine to help people or even the law to enforce right and wrong.

"You never mentioned it."

I shrugged my shoulders, feeling the back of my neck heat up. "I don't talk about it much. A lot of people assume I'm holding it over their heads or trying to prove that I'm better than them."

"So what happened after your father found out about your plans?"

"Not much. He cut off my allowance, and completely disinherited me." I shrugged my shoulders. "Maybe he thought I would come back and beg to be forgiven. I decided to just leave."

"So you let your father drive you away?" she asked, her tone becoming gentle. "You didn't try to persuade him like you were persuaded? Maybe you could have made a change."

I shook my head. The last few conversations I had with my father had been more like arguments and shouting matches. "It would have been a waste of my breath. There had been no reasoning with him."

"Did you try? Maybe one of your neighbors—"

"There were some I knew who wouldn't support slavery," I said, interupting her, "and they were looked down on by everyone else. Their actions were mocked and they had no peace."

Her cheeks flushed bright red. "I see."

"No doubt there were some who went about their lives, ignoring the side-long looks and the criticism," I continued. "I couldn't stay under my father's roof to endure it day in and day out."

"I suppose I can understand that." Elizabeth turned the tin cup in her hands. She hadn't taken a sip, but then again, I hadn't either. "It can wear on a person to constantly be hounded about a matter."

Surprised, I eyed her. She'd mentioned having some disagreements with her brother's wife, but hadn't told me any specifics. What had her life been like? Would she tell me?

"Yeah," I said when I realized that silence had stretched too long. "And anyway, I guessed how things were going to go. The war, I mean. There were too many hotheads who didn't want to compromise."

"And you didn't want to fight."

"No. I couldn't fight for the south, and I couldn't stand the thought of fighting for the North if it meant I would be shooting at friends and family. How could I live knowing I'd killed a cousin? A friend?" Just thinking of it made my stomach turn. "I left before anyone could force me to do the unthinkable."

Anyway, my father's neighbors had already labeled me a coward. Spineless. Traitor. A few men had attempted to correct my thinking with their fists.

"I can't fault you for that," Elizabeth said with a sigh. "I don't know what I would have done in your shoes. Fighting for what's right has always been important, but it would be cruel to say that you're responsible for righting all the wrongs in the world."

I inclined my head in thanks.

"For the most part, I've been left in peace since I settled here." But I'd done my best to tone down my Georgia accent and didn't talk about where I'd come from. A handful of people in the territory might know, but had been kind enough not to mention it.

There had been a few, through the years, who had learned the truth and taken offense. And it had been from people on both sides of the war. Yankees were furious about where I was from. Southerners were furious I hadn't fought with them. Neither side would see reason.

"And after the war?" she asked, her voice becoming soft. "Have you heard from your family since you left? Is your family still wealthy?"

Was that somehow important? Did she just want to understand my family? "No," I told her honestly. "My father put every penny he could into supporting the Confederacy. He died before the end of the war and never knew that he lost everything. My sister made sure I knew about it."

Carolyn had not responded to any of my letters until that point. Since then, she always wrote. I couldn't tell if she did so because she wanted me to feel guilty about everything or if she genuinely wanted to stay in contact.

I could have stopped writing to her, but couldn't bring myself to do that. I was still interested in my family, and Carolyn was the only one left who would write to me. My mother had never responded and neither had my younger siblings.

"So you truly built this all on your own," Elizabeth commented, gesturing towards the window.

"Not alone," I corrected. "It would have taken a stronger man than I to do that. I had help from my neighbors, just as I have helped them when I could."

For a moment, we both sat in silence. I tried to think of what else I needed to tell her. She knew the worst about my past and I couldn't think of anything else I ought to confess before we married.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, letting go of the tin cup that must be lukewarm by now. "You've given me a lot to think about. And what about your neighbor?"

"My neighbor?"

"Mr. Burns and his daughter."

Right. That. I sighed and rubbed my neck. "Well, I'll start at the beginning. Maybe you can tell me where I went wrong."

It was not any easier to explain what had happened between the Burns and myself. Elizabeth listened attentively, nodding every now and then to show she understood. I felt as though I were repeating some of the information I had already told her, but there didn't seem like another way to​ tell the story except from start to finish.

"It is an altogether strange situation," Elizabeth said when I ended with what had happened the night before. She tapped the table with one finger. ""And they have refused to talk to you?"

"Mrs. Burns threatened to shoot me the last time I tried, and Mr Burns came around with the intention of burning my house down. That puts a bit of a damper on conversation."

Maybe Earnest had been right. I should have asked Elizabeth to wait until this all died down before she came. I'd put her in danger.

"And Miss Burns was upset when you accidentally crossed paths with her in town not so long ago?"

What was she trying to get at? "Yes. I don't know if her parents had her convinced that she would eventually marry me, but she was extremely upset when she learned that you were coming." I cleared my throat. "She was shocked that I intended to marry you."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and the corners of her lips quirked as though she were fighting a smile. "Well, then. That is where I will start."

"Start?"

"I said I would think on it and I have." Elizabeth sat back with an air of satisfaction. "You might be unable to talk to the Burns, but they have nothing against me. I will talk to them. Or, specifically, I will talk to Miss Burns."

"But they know you've come to marry me."

"All they know is that I came with the possibility of marrying you," she corrected. Her tone was matter of fact, which sent my heart plummeting. "If I tell them I haven't made up my mind, they're sure to want to talk to me. They won't be able to resist telling their story."

Now that, I could readily believe.

"True, but how will you get there? Do you know how to ride? Or drive a wagon?"

Elizabeth's face fell. "Well, no," she admitted. Then, her expression became determined. "Give me a little more time and I'll think of something. Talking to Annie Burns isn't something we should just push aside."

"I don't think her parents will let her talk." That was something I had noticed early on. The Burns were a family that thought their children should remain silent unless instructed to talk.

There was a stubborn glint in Elizabeth's eyes. "She'll talk to me," she insisted. "I'll think of some way. Maybe Mrs. Royal will be able to help. You said Annie Burns trusts her."

"I don't want to anger her parents."

"Well, I think you've earned the right to make them angry," she argued. "Since they're angry for no reason, aren't they? Maybe it's time to give them something to complain about."

There were those who might have agreed with her, but I shook my head. "That might make me feel better when it first happens, but these are my neighbors. I don't plan to move away and I doubt they are either. We're going to be neighbors for some time. If I can, I'd like to resolve this without anyone else getting hurt."

Elizabeth heaved a sigh. "I suppose you're right. My mother always said I was too petty at times. But you haven't convinced me that I shouldn't try to talk to Miss Burns. I'll think of some way to make it happen."

Hopefully she could do that without antagonizing anyone in the process. "Would you like some fresh coffee?" I asked, eager to move on to some other topic. We were supposed to be getting to know each other, weren't we?

Smiling, she shook her head. "No, thank you. I'd like to see your cattle and hear more about what your plans are for the future. I didn't see them when you showed me your barn earlier."

"Well, that's because cattle are not kept in the barn," I said, amused by her request. "They're out grazing."

"Oh. Well, I still would like to see them. You believe they'll be an asset for the future?"

"I'm certain of it. I'd be pleased to show you to them, but that's going to be a little difficult."

"Why?" She bristled with a suddeness that took me by surprise. "I know I don't know much about cattle and working on a farm, but I can learn! I want to understand what your life is like."

"It's not that," I hastened to assure her. "I have every confidence that you are capable of learning anything you want. It's just that my herd is out grazing and the only way to get there is to ride. It's too rocky for us to take the wagon out there."

"Oh." Her outrage faded. "When would they be close to the house for me to see them?"

Standing up, I offered her my hand. "How about I teach you to ride?"

"You want to teach me?" she asked in surprise.

"If you want to learn." I was not about to force her to do anything she didn't want to do. At the same time, riding was a useful thing to know out here. "It's not hard and you might enjoy it."

She took a moment to consider it. "Alright, then." Elizabeth put her hand in mine and stood up. "What do I need to do first?"

~*~

The morning hours flew by quickly. I started simply and taught Elizabeth the pieces of horse tack. She was a quick learner and took to Charger immediately. To my relief, my horse remained on his best behavior in return.

Shortly after noon, we scrounged up a simple meal of bread and salt ham. Elizabeth insisted on helping me. It felt both awkward and completely normal to have her next to me slicing bread while I fried the ham.

After our serious morning conversation, I'd been afraid it might make conversation awkward, but I was wrong. It was easy to talk to Elizabeth, and it was even more enjoyable listening to her speak.

How could a woman with a voice like her's have gone overlooked by her neighbors?

By mid-afternoon, I had Elizabeth on Charger, trying not to laugh at her embarrassment. She sat stiffly while attempting to arrange her skirt to cover her ankles. As I led Charger around the corral, she slowly began to relax.

"What's the next step?" she asked.

"I let go of the bridle and you guide Charger with the reins yourself," I told her, coming to a halt. I looked up at her. "Do you remember how I told you to handle the reins?"

"Always be gentle. No jerking or pulling," she said promptly. Her bare hands tightened on the reins. We'd have to find her some proper gloves as soon as we could. "Let the reins rest against his neck in the direction I want him to go. He knows what it means."

She paused, wrinkling her nose. "He probably knows better than me what to do," she added.

"He is a smart animal," I agreed. Feeling bold, I winked at her. "And you're a smart woman. You'll work well together. I'm going to let go now. Just ride around the corral, nice and easy."

There was a momentary flash of panic in her eyes, then she gave a determined nod. I released the reins and stepped back. Clicking her tongue, she nudged Charger's sides. At a slow, steady walk, they began to walk around the corral.

Leaning against the post, I watched with pride. Elizabeth had a pleased grin on her face. "I'm doing it!" she called out, like a child might.

"Good work!" I responded, waving in acknowledgement.

"Hello the house!"

Turning, I recognized the US Marshal and my heart sank. Why had he come back? Westler brought his horse to a halt and dismounted. Once he had the reins tied to the hitching post, he wandered over to where I was.

"Noah?" Elizabeth asked, awkwardly bringing Charger to a halt.

"It's the marshal," I told her. "Do you want to meet him or keep riding?"

"I'd like to meet him," she said immediately. "I have some questions for him."

Why wasn't I surprised by that?

~*~

Dear Mother,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you won't throw this in the fire before you finish reading. You and the rest of the family have been on my mind lately. I've been telling my bride-to-be about you.

Maybe Edith has already told you about Elizabeth. I think you would like her if you were to meet. She is a woman who knows her own mind and isn't afraid of learning new things. I hope you won't hold her place of birth against her...