Bookshelf Battle

To say that the Olmsted property was a dump would be an insult to dumps. Without old Frederick looking after it, the log cabin had gone into disrepair and the few acres became overrun with weeds and tall grass.

“Oh my,” Sarah said. “I knew enough to be skeptical when the advertisement described it as ‘luxurious’ but this isn’t how I pictured it at all.”

Sarah and Slade walked into the cabin where they found cobwebs, dirty dishes, and dust, dust, and more dust.

“I have my work cut out for me,” Sarah said. “So be it. As the good book says, ‘idle hands are the devil’s handiwork.’”

Slade nodded.

“Thank you, Marshal.  I don’t want to keep you from your duties any longer.”

Slade tipped his hat then headed for his horse, only to stop abruptly. He had something to say, and without Gunther around, it was going to be difficult for him, especially since Sarah was new to him.

“Is everything all right, Marshal?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t…”

Sarah removed her bonnet as she waited for the words to come out of Slade’s mouth. All that long pretty hair didn’t help the Marshal connect his brain to his voice box any faster.

“I reckon I don’t feel it’s right to…”

Big brown eyes. Staring. Blinking. That’s all Slade saw.

“…to leave you all alone out here…because you’re a woman and all.”

Sarah smiled. “Oh, I know,” she said. “This certainly is unorthodox. Ever since he passed, I’ve come to realize how much I relied on Jedediah for everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Slade said.

“It’s all right,” Sarah said. “He slipped away peacefully in his sleep. Such a kind, gentle man. It would have been nice to have known him a bit longer but seventy-four years is more than anyone can ask for.”

Slade felt a burning need to check to see if he heard that correctly.

“Seventy-four?” he asked.

“Unusual, I know,” Sarah said. “But father needed a loan and Jedediah had the money. Can’t say anyone ever asked my opinion.”

Fortunately, Slade’s stoicism prevented him from sharing his opinion.

“But you need not worry about me, Marshal,” Sarah said. “I’ve come to accept that no man will ever want a once married old maid of twenty-six so I shall persevere and learn how to survive on my own.”

Slade was only two years older. And he was alive. He was beating old Jedediah on two fronts.

“I’ll lend a hand,” Slade said.

A rusty axe was buried in a tree stump, surrounded by logs Olmsted never got around to. The Marshal went to work splitting them.

“You’re too kind, Marshal,” Sarah said.

“Rain.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me Rain.”

“Very well,” Sarah said. “Rain.”

Sarah retreated to the cabin and went to work on tidying up. An hour later she poked her head outside to check on her helper only to find him shirtless, his sweaty muscles gleaming in the sun.

“Oh my Lord,” she said. Good church goer that she was, she averted her eyes and walked back inside.