She took his cup and went for more coffee.
“I helped him.I made him think he needed to take care of me.In truth, I took care of him.Each of us needed a purpose.Someone else to worry about.”
She brought the cup back and put it in front of him.
War left too many damaged people in its wake.Like Imala.Like Smith.Like Doc Burnett.
Like himself, maybe, though he’d be damned before saying so aloud.
“We married.And when silver was discovered in Colorado, we came.For two years, we have been in this place.”
Caleb gestured to the cabin.“You’ve made a fine home here.”
Imala looked around her.“It pleases him.I still find it strange to stay in one place.There is very little silver, but I don’t think he minds.I work the garden, he works the claim, and we hunt together.It is a different life, but a good one.”
Caleb finished his coffee and thanked her for his supper.
“I’ll take my horse down by the creek there and camp for the night.But tomorrow I’ll go and find him.”
Her gaze was steady when she replied, “When he rode out with them, he did not look back.Smith always worried about me.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
She got up, took his cup, and went to the wash bucket without another word.
Caleb went out and led his mount to the creek where he could keep an eye on the cabin.When he was settled for the night, he leaned back against his saddle and listened to the running water.In the distance, a pack of coyotes were talking over their hunting plans, and an owl occasionally put in his two cents.
As Caleb watched the moon crouch on a peak to the west and then drop behind it, he had a bad feeling that Smith was never coming back here.
He hoped he was wrong.For Imala.For Doc.And maybe because he was beginning to understand that some homes were built quietly, one meal and one day and one person at a time.
ChapterTwelve
Through the branchesof the cottonwood above him, Caleb opened his eyes to see that the black night sky was lightening to a deep blue.The sun would soon be climbing above the mountains to the east, and he needed to get himself going.Devil’s Claw wouldn’t be coming to him.
He went down to the creek to clean up.The water was ice-cold, and as he stood in the shallows looking, a speckled trout that had to be two feet long wandered by to see what Caleb was doing.A friend joined him, and they moseyed on together up the creek, following the deeper channels.
No one needed to go hungry in this part of the world, he thought.
A man could live well here if he knew how to read the land and had sense enough not to take more than he needed.
When he came up to the cabin leading his buckskin, saddled and ready to go, Imala was already digging around in the big garden.She looked up, pushed a stray wisp of hair off her forehead, and pointed to a nearby stump.Caleb spied the pot of coffee, a cup, and a covered basket she’d put there.
He went over and poured himself some coffee.The basket held biscuits that were still warm.
“I’m obliged to you for your hospitality, ma’am,” he said, going to the edge of the garden.Most of it was still in the morning shadow, but sunlight would soon warm the turned earth.
“Thank you for looking for my husband.”
He said nothing and watched her work for a moment.“Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”
“No, I’ll get on well enough,” she told him, sinking the blade of the shovel into the soil and putting a foot up on the shoulder of the long-handled tool.“While Smith digs for silver, I spend most of my time alone here, anyway.”
“Between the garden and the hunting, you must eat fairly well, I’d guess.I saw some trout in that creek that could feed a half dozen people.”
“That’s true.And the grouse and pheasant and rabbits are plentiful here.We only go and hunt larger game when one of us fancies venison.When autumn comes, Smith likes geese the best.”
The way she said his name made Caleb look away for a moment.Quiet love had a sound to it, he supposed.Not loud.Not showy.Just there, woven into ordinary talk about food and seasons and what a man liked best.
