Hard Days

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Julia

That evening, she made stew and dumplings, piling up Sterling Roose’s plate until it was almost overflowing. Cole, sitting opposite his good friend, laughed. “You reckon you can get all that down you, Sterling?”

“I reckon so,” said the wiry looking Roose as he attacked the stew with gusto.

“My,” said Julia, “seems to me you haven’t eaten for some time, Sterling. You need feeding up.”

Chuckling between mouthfuls, Roose reached for the nearby plate of bread rolls and tore one in half. “I guess you could say so,” he said then dunked the bread into the gravy and slurped it down.

“Sterling’s been helping out old Sheriff Perdew down in Paradise,” said Cole, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Really?” Julia asked and sat back, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a serviette. “Don’t he feed you too well?”

“Usual potatoes and gravy.”

“For every meal?”

Roose nodded without looking up. “Every meal.”

“Sterling has his heart set on being a law-officer,” put in Cole, most of his attention on the piece of meat he was sawing through.

“You’re not happy in the Army, Sterling?”

“Some,” said Roose. “But it ain’t what it used to be.”

“Is that right,” drawled Cole.

“You know it ain’t.”

His face came up and for a moment the two friends stared at one another.

“What are you talking about?” Julia, noticing the charged atmosphere looked from one to the other. “Cole? What does he mean?”

Roose got in first. “The southern plains are all but tamed now. Within a year, maybe two at the most, even the Comanche will be in a reservation, but there are rumours of unrest in the north.”

“What sort of unrest?”

“Sioux and Cheyenne,” said Cole, victorious at last over the meat. He popped a large chunk into his mouth and chewed it down with some effort. “The great tribes of the Plains. They’ve just about had enough.”

“But what has that to do with us down here?”

“Not a lot.” Cole’s face came up and caught Roose’s cold stare. “Maybe.”

Shifting uneasily in her chair, Julia’s voice broke a little as she said, “You’re scaring me.”

“No, no,” said Roose quickly, reaching out to pat her forearm. “No need to be scared. It might just … spread, that’s all, so we have to be ready.”

“Not that it’s gonna happen,” said Cole, his eyes settling on the way Roose’s fingers gripped Julia’s arm.

For the rest of the meal they ate in silence, the only sounds ones of cutlery against crockery, satisfied moans and smacking of lips. When finished, Julia gathered up the empty plates and took them into the tiny kitchen before returning with a stone jug. She poured out frothy beer into chipped cups before sitting down and gazing at the two men as they drank.

“So, tell me,” she said. “Those Apaches you brought in? They will hang?”

“Almost certainly,” said Roose, wiping his mouth and sitting back in his hard-backed chair. Behind him the open fire crackled and spat, the stacked logs giving off an intense, yet comforting heat. “I reckon it’s what they call ‘an open-and-shut case’ due to the survivors who will give testimony.”

“I’m surprised such savages will be given a fair hearing.”

“That’s the law,” put in Cole. He took a deep breath. “At least around here.”

“That’s down to you,” said Roose, his voice flat. He gazed into his beer.

“Not only me,” said Cole, shifting uncomfortably in his own chair.

Frowning, Julia looked from one to the other. “What does he mean, Reuben? Down to you? Down to you in what way?”

“He won’t say so himself,” put in Roose quickly, “but dear old Reuben here wrote to President Grant begging him to give his reassurance that Indians would be allowed due process.”

“You wrote to the President?” Julia sat back, amazed.

Cole shrugged, “It was nothing,” he said in a quiet, embarrassed voice.

“And what did the President say? Did he answer?”

“Not to me directly, but the fort received a communication, suggesting they proceed with caution. Trouble is brewing up north and the Government is anxious it doesn’t spread.”

“It will,” said Roose, draining his cup, “no matter how we deal with incursions and the like down here.”

“Incursions? Sterling, this is their land. They’ve lived here for thousands of years. We just charged right in and took what we wanted.”

“Not me,” said Roose, his jawline reddening. “I never posted no claim for gold or anything else for that matter.”

“I didn’t mean you personally, Sterling! You know that wasn’t my meaning.”

“Even so, gold is a mighty temptation, and them Indians have no use for it so what’s the problem?” He produced a small canvas bag and set about rolling himself a cigarette.

“Ooh, just wait a moment,” said Julia and jumped up to cross to the small dresser set against the wall next to the door. She came back with a small wooden chest, opened it, and produced two slim, black cheroots. “I got these from the store. Thought you might like one?” She handed it over to Roose who looked at it with wide-eyed relish.

“She ain’t nothing but hospitable,” said Cole, taking the cheroot Julia offered him and twirling it under his nose. “That smells mighty good, Julia.”

“I thought I’d splash out, seeing as you are back safe and sound.”

Having lit his cheroot, Roose leaned across and, cupping his hands to protect the match flame from a non-existent breeze, lit up Cole’s also. “He does seem to do that with some regularity.”

“Well,” she reached out and squeezed Cole’s arm, “it’s good to have you here. There’s a world of work to do and those horses could do with a run-out.”

“I’ll see to that in the morning.” He caught her look and chuckled, “All right, we will see to it in the morning!”

They all laughed, and Julia seemed a little relieved. “I’ll make coffee.”

Watching her leave the room, Roose smiled as he puffed on his smoke. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.”

“And yet …” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “If I may say so, old friend, you don’t seem … too set.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

Roose frowned. “But I thought—”

“It was never my intention to have a relationship, Sterling. Nor hers, I reckon.”

“I think you’re wrong there, Cole. She’s loyal, caring. Even devoted, you could say.”

“My only thought was to protect her until such time as she feels able to move on.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ll never find another like her.”

“You could be right, but I could never ask anyone to share my life right now, not the way things are. You know how dangerous it is out there.”

“Yeah, but … If she is willing to take the risk, to be with you, to make sure you don’t do anything too stupid, why not allow yourself to—”

He stopped abruptly as the sound of approaching horses from beyond the front door made themselves heard.

Cole quickly pulled out the handgun from its holster hanging on the back of his chair just as Julia came rushing in, face ashen. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” said Cole as Roose took down the Henry repeating rifle from the hooks above the door. “Cut the lights.”

She did so, moving across to the large oil lamp on top of the dresser first. The one in the centre of their table followed, the only glow remaining was that coming from the kitchen.

The darkness seeped over them and Cole went to the shuttered window adjacent to the door and eased up the wooden bar. He peered into the night.

A voice called out, “Mr Cole? It’s me, Hyrum Vance. We’ve got a problem back at the fort, sir.”

Cole let his breath out long and slow. “All right, thanks.” He turned away and if it wasn’t for the dark, he felt sure he would see Julia wringing her hands, glaring at him.