Pillow Talk

That night when I returned to my wagon I was tired. Feeling the strain of it all and I just did not seem to have enough to pull through it. It was not like me but I figured I was .. just tired.

The coals in the copper pot in my wagon were still glowing. That was pleasant to return to. My wagon did not feel so empty .. so cold and forgotten. I crouched to stir them up .. slowly adding a few pieces of chip. As the glow grew and spread out I lit the oil lamp. It was then I noticed that someone had drawn little pictures and tacked them to the support ribbing. I blinked not used to seeing the color inside my wagon .. color arranged in calm ... actually pretty pictures. So benign .. so normal. I only knew one person who could have left them.

I eased back to my furs and placed my hand on something that drew my attention. A line of beads spread out over my furs .. a trail of sorts that lead to the end of the chain where Catch had been kept for those few days before I moved her to the slave wagons.

Interesting

There at the end were some things left for me .. bits of things she must have saved for me from what had been given to her by Dee. I was touched.

Such a simple gesture .. and yet a feminine one that had been lacking in my life. One of those things you do not realize that you miss until someone does it for you and it dawns how long it has been. Pink had started to remind me of such things .. but it seemed she had found other things to occupy her time. Perhaps even another man had captured her attention .. it was not hard to imagine.

But that night nothing mattered except that I felt a little less alone and a little more thought of .. than I had the moments before I entered my wagon. The next day I carried with me a thought of her .. not what she had done but a picture of her eyes ... of the turn of her shoulder and the rich darkness of her hair.