River

Rosy

Gregor comes home much earlier than I expected him. I see him through the front window as he approaches, out of the corner of my eye as I concentrate on my nearly finished embroidery project. I rise from my seat in the parlor to greet him, and before I can see him, he calls out from the other side of the front door, “It is not as bad as it looks!”

What?

I gasp when I see his appearance as he opens the front door and enters the house. His face is battered and bruised, I see a bloody cloth wrapped around his hand, and he is thoroughly disheveled. However, he has a very pleased smile upon his face.

“Oh my god, Gregor, what happened?” I ask as I move over and begin to inspect his injuries.

Nadine comes from the kitchen to see what is happening, and obviously is already planning what supplies she will need to get him cleaned up. Moses is behind her, his eyes wide.

“Follow me,” Nadine says, all bustling efficiency and practicality. Gregor smirks at me and shrugs, then follows along behind her back into the kitchen.

I sit him down at the table while Nadine pours some hot water into a basin and brings it with some washcloths to us. “I’ll do this,” I tell her. Gregor amiably allows me to begin cleaning his wounds. I start mopping the scrapes on his face. His lip is split and I tenderly dab at it, wondering how long it will be before I can kiss him again.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask him for the second time. I know that he still has secrets to keep.

He shrugs. “Certainly.” He looks over to Nadine and Moses, obviously lingering nearby in the hopes of overhearing whatever explanation there is. He chuckles. “Come on in, folks, sit down, you should hear this too.”

They look at each other then join us at the table. I am unwrapping the bloody handkerchief from Gregor’s hand and looking at the deep gash in his palm. There is another slash across the inside of his fingers. This looks almost like he must have actually grabbed a knife. I look up at him and he shrugs. I guess so, then. At least it doesn’t seem to be bleeding very much any more. I use more water to clean it as best I can.

Gregor looks into my eyes, lovingly, before he begins. “I think you’ll be pleased to hear, my dearest Rosalind, that our old nemesis Mason has finally been defeated.”

“Really? Defeated?”

“Dead, to be more precise. He is gone.”

Oh my goodness. I confess that this is a relief to hear. Good riddance, really.

“I have a very strange story to tell about it, quite grotesque in parts,” he says, looking around. “Can you all bear to hear something that will be somewhat disturbing?” He doesn’t look disturbed, he looks amused.

I laugh at him. “Out with it, Gregor. Just tell us.”

“Very well. Two men came into the bank today to collect the reward offered for the capture of Mason. I was there at the time, talking to Samuel about my accounts.”

I have gotten his hand cleaned off and am reaching for some clean strips of cloth Nadine has placed on the table, to begin bandaging it up.

He goes on. “They had with them, as proof that they had captured Mason, a bag which contained his head.”

Moses yelps out a laugh, and Gregor looks at him appreciatively. Nadine shakes her head disapprovingly, which makes me laugh too. His head. Really?

“Really,” Gregor says, looking at me and answering my unspoken thought. “I saw it, it was definitely Mason.” He holds up his hand, cooperatively turning it back and forth as I bandage it. “Samuel, as you might imagine, was less than pleased to have this brought into the bank, and wasn’t sure what he should do. So I went to fetch the militia inspector, and told the men that he would need to verify the claim before the reward could be paid.”

Moses and Nadine watch as Gregor flexes his newly bandaged hand, and then gently touches his lip. I wonder if he had even realized that it was split.

“Well, while we were waiting for the inspector the men grew impatient, and demanded that Samuel get out the reward money at once. When he hesitated, one of the men pulled out weapons and a fight broke out.” He waves his uninjured hand over himself, so we know that is how he came to be in this condition. “The militia arrived soon enough and it was determined that the men were both wanted bandits themselves. Rather than receive the reward, for their troubles they were arrested and taken to jail. They will be facing trial for numerous crimes.”

He grins around at us.

“Oh, is that all?” I ask nonchalantly, waving my hand, pretending to be unimpressed with this astounding tale, and he bursts out laughing, then pulls me to him, kissing me enthusiastically, utterly disregarding his injuries.

Samuel Duncan

It is practically dawn again by the time we get back into town. We have traveled south down the Trace without stopping, ever since we finally rose from our little outdoors bed where we renewed our love. We have spent some of the journey riding double on Issoba to save a little time, but mostly walked together alongside him.

It was very funny when Ben told me that he had almost thought this looked like the same horse who had reared up over him the day we met on the Trace, and I told him that it actually is the same horse.

We have had so much to share, to catch up on, to enjoy. I’ve never seen him so chatty. It is wonderful to be with him, and despite being tired from the little expedition we have been on, I will always treasure this memory.

We drop Issoba back off at the stables. There are probably two hours or so left before dawn.

We walk towards my rooms over the medical office, and Ben stops there, as though to say goodnight to me.

But I can’t leave him. I don’t want to be apart. “Instead of saying goodnight,” I say, “do you think maybe we could go to our grove? Just for the rest of tonight?”

I’m surprised when he hesitates. “Er,” he says, seeming to revert to his difficulty in speaking.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Um, last time I was there Mason had found it and was using it. Like, using our blankets and stuff. I wouldn’t want to touch those things ever again.”

I lean back and stare at him in surprise. “Oh!” I consider what to do. “Well,” I tell him, “let’s go down there anyway. We don’t have to use anything that he defiled. I don’t want to let him keep us away from our special place. We can just toss all that stuff out if you want.”

I believe he is relieved, although I can’t see his expression in the darkness before dawn. We turn and continue Under-the-hill. I wish I could hold his hand, but here in town, even at this hour, we couldn’t risk being seen that way.

As we are walking down Silver Street towards the docks, I glance into the unobscured sky overhead, and see the comet. I remember with a smile that a few weeks ago, a lifetime ago, I had first seen it while I was at Ellis Cliffs and wanted to be able to point it out to him.

“Do you see that?” I ask him, pointing up into the sky.

“Mmm,” he says. “Yes. I hate that thing.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s been taunting me ever since you were gone, when you went down to tend to the plantation mistress. Every time I look up there it seems like it is glaring at me. I don’t know what it is but it feels like an evil omen.”

Oh, poor Ben! I hate to think that this has been bothering him. “It’s just a comet, honey,” I say, pleased to feel free to use an endearment with him. “Just something flying past earth. I saw it that week too, when I was at Ellis Cliffs. It’s interesting, not evil. Try to look at it like a good omen - after all, we are back together while it is still up in the sky.”

“Hmph,” he grunts as we begin to move past the taverns and brothels, now mostly dark and quiet. “Whatever you say.” It makes me laugh a little.

When we get to our little grove, the slightest glimmer of light is starting to appear in the east, the sun nowhere close to rising quite yet, but the sky starting its slow transition from black to gray. Just enough to be able to see our way into the grove.

“I’m glad to be back here again with you,” I tell him, pulling him to me now that we are in private again. We share a tender kiss before moving further into the grove.

When we get in there, he says, “What’s that?”

I look, and on the big rock in the middle is something large, sitting right on top of the platform made by the stone. When we get closer to it, we discover that it is some kind of bundle. The light is very dim and it is hard to really see what it is. But as we investigate, we decide that it is some kind of blanket wrapped with a cord.

“What on earth?” he says. “This isn’t what I had left here.” He looks around, peering about the grove in the slowly growing light. “In fact my stuff isn’t here at all.”

This is so peculiar. Mystifying. We find the answer soon enough, though. “We might as well open it,” I tell him.

As I begin to pull apart the cord that is holding the bundle together, a piece of paper falls out. I pick it up and carry it over to the edge of the grove, out from under the trees so that the early dawn can cast enough light for me to see the paper.

On it is printed only a very brief message. “For S and B. ~G~”