"But I’m so tired of being in bed. I need toget out of this room" She grumbled.
"What's with the room?" He asked lookingstraight at her.
She hung her head.
"Out with it. What gives?"
"After my folks died, and it snowed me in. Icouldn't leave the cabin. I was alone for days and days. SometimesI couldn't even get my firewood chopped. I'd sit in the dark. Eversince then, if I'm confined, I get…. "
"Get what?" he demanded.
"Scared!" she cried.
"You were alone for five years, and you werescared?"
"Just when I couldn't get out." Shehollered.
He sat down beside her. "There's nothing tobe afraid of here. This is your home. Dickens and I are here.You'll be fine." He insisted.
"Can you stay and talk to me a littlewhile?"
"I guess," he put the towel down as he driedhis hands.
"How's the hay coming?"
"It's coming along." He grinned.
"Can I have a book to read then?" she askedwith a huff.
"Sure, which one?"
"Ivanhoe. It was written by Sir Walter Scottof medieval England. I enjoy his adventures at least since I'm nothaving any of my own."
Wes laughed.
He went to find her a book and brought it toher. Their fingers touched and she held onto them. "Uh, I thoughtyou wanted some lunch."
"I do, but I'd rather talk."
"About what?" He seemed a bitaggravated.
"I don't know. I get lonely when you go towork in the fields and Dickens goes to take care of theanimals."
"What did you do, before we were here?"
"I don't know," she chuckled. "I can'tremember."
"Did Jim talk to you much?" he asked out ofthe blue.
"No," her expression changed a bit. "Hewasn't much on conversation."
"Do you want me to bring your knitting toyou or something."
She took his hand and held it up to hers,noting the difference in their sizes. "No, I want to talk aboutyou. You must have seen a lot of different things in youradventures."
"Nothing a woman would care to hear."
"When you go visit your whores, what do youtalk about?" she asked out of the blue.
"My whores?" he looked genuinelysurprised.
"Yes, your women."
"Well, um…. We don't talk much." He told heralmost angrily. "And they aren't mine."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad. Ijust thought maybe you told them some tales."
"You need to get some sleep while I make ussomething to eat."
"Please," she pleaded when he got up andstarted walking away. "I didn't mean to pry into your private life.I seem to share all my life with you and Dickens, but I never heareither of you talk about your lives."
She glanced outside, "It's raining again, doyou want the day off to go to town?"
"No!" He whirled around on his boot heels."I don't want the day off to go into town," he insisted.
"Why not, your grouchy and maybe you needsome female company."
"I don't want to go to town," he stared intoher eyes now.
"It looks very much like you don't want totalk to me, either." She huffed, folding her arms over her chest asshe adjusted the sheet over her.
"You have no idea what whores are like, doyou?" He asked.
"No, I don't, so tell me. What are theylike? "
He sat down on the edge of the bed andstared into her innocent face. "They wear a lot of stuff on theirface, some too much, most too much. They smell nice most of thetime. They smile a lot, to please people who come in. They weardresses of satin that sparkle when they move. Some are very pretty,others are not. They'll talk about anything, and they'll listen,some of them. Does that give you a bigger picture?"'
"Yes, I guess it does. Why do men like themso much though?"
"Because…. Whores are paid to listen to hardluck stories, to sad stories, and to boring stories. Whores willhave sex with any man, whether they are clean or dirty. and whenyou leave them don't care."
"Aw, now I see, you can take them, and leaveto your woods and they don't care." She looked rather smug with herconclusion.
"That's true. They do not care."
"Well, that makes sense. I rejected Jim onthe first try and hated it and told him so. So he went to dancehallgirls to satisfy himself. Now I understand why. Even you, I canunderstand. For they have no goodbye tears for you." Shetaunted.
"Yeah, no goodbye tears." He chuckled.
"Then you were right, I could never be awhore."
"What do you mean, I was right?" He frownedat her now.
"You said I could never be like that. And Icouldn't Because I would always have goodbye tears, for the men Icared about."
"Well now, you see, that's the thing."
"What is?"
"Whores don't care about anyone butthemselves."
"That's rather harsh don't you think?"
"Well any man that thinks they do, is sureignorant."
"So men put all whores in the same category,and use them for… "
"Yeah, I guess so. You're feeling muchbetter, aren't you?" he asked with a slight smile.
She grinned. "Much, can I get up now?"
"Not on your life."
"All I want to do is go in the kitchen andwatch you cook." She told him.
He looked from her to the kitchen. "That'sall?"
"Sure." She smiled sweetly at him.
He picked her up in his arms as she snuggledinto him. Her lips brushed his neck as she laid her head on hisshoulder.
He took her into the kitchen, sat her in achair and put her leg up on one of the other chairs. "Now,happy?"
"Very," she told him once more with a bigsmile.
He moved toward the stove.
"So what are you going to cook?"
"It's kind of a hash or what I call goulashkind of thing." He told her. "I came up with it when I was terriblyhungry one night on the trail."
"Interesting, what's in it?"
"Beef, potatoes and I make sort of a gravyout of it."
"Sounds good." She smiled.
"Got any onions?"
"Yes, in the cupboard to your left." Shepointed.
"Great. Any leftover beef?"
"As a matter of fact, there is, she pointedto that too."
"Potatoes?"
"On the floor there in the iron holder."
He took all the ingredients and began makinghis dish. "Good. Now you can eat them with a biscuit or pour themover a biscuit, whichever you like." He told her as it began tocook, and he set it halfway on the side of the stove so it
