Great and Terrible Things

"War is hell." It was the best I could offer and it was true, but I'd forgotten where the quote originated. Clementine damn bear exploded and frankly, I didn't blame her. It was a stupid thing to say to a person who'd lost someone in Atlanta or Savannah.

"Don't you dare quote that monster! Sherman should have been tried and shot for what he did, but instead he's a hero! I was there. I saw what he let his troops do! I was three years old, but I'll never forget seeing what they did to my mother!" I realized I'd been off a couple of years when I'd guessed the blonde's age. She was sixteen, not fourteen.

My natural instance was to come to a fellow union soldier's defense. I thought about sharing with Clementine how I lost my best friend when Champ Ferguson and his men invaded one of the Union's field hospitals and massacred over two dozen patients after the First Battle of Saltville. I wanted to explain to her how 'Bloody Bill' Anderson capture, scalped, skinned and dismembered twenty-two union soldiers.

I was sorely tempted to tell her about the confederate prison at Camp Sumter where one hundred union soldiers died a day, but there was no point. It wouldn't change her mind, and if I were being honest, she wasn't wrong. Sherman was a monster, but then again, during war all soldiers are at one time of another, especially the officers. I'd served under a couple that made Sherman look like a saint.

"Peace cousin," Abigail said softly. "That war's been over for a long time ago and Mr. Mosey isn't Sherman."

"I served in Tennessee mostly," I put in, hoping it would help. "I didn't take part in either the Battle of Spottsylvania or what happened in Savannah."

"Battle of Nashville?" William asked in curiosity.

I nodded and then surprised myself by adding, "And Fort Pillow." He obviously knew what that meant based on his expression.

"That was more of a massacre than a battle. Not many union soldiers survived that one."

"I almost didn't," I said slowly, remembering. "I was shot in the shoulder, but two of my troopers helped me escape. We fled down a river dyed red with the blood of our friends as the Rebs killed everyone in sight, even those who were surrendering."

"No more talk of that war," Abigail said shaking her head. "It's been thirteen years. The North may have won, but no one got away unscathed." I thought she was cutting the conversation short for Clementine's sake and I'm sure that was partially true, but she was looking at me when she said it. It made me feel an odd kind of warmth.

"I'm done with all wars. I'd had my fill of fighting and prefer not to relive the battles I've seen." I offered more than I planned. "Besides, it's not a fit conversation for mixed company."

"When you're right, you're right," William smiled, slapping me on the back in camaraderie with far more vigor than one might expect for a man his age. "Although, you'll find that the women out here in Wyoming territory are made of sterner stuff than the woman-folk from back east."

"I can see that." I made sure not to glance Abigail's way when I said it because the old man was watching me. It was surprisingly difficult. The old man's smile turned into a grin briefly.

"This here is my niece Mrs. Abigail Collier, widowed." William's introduction forced me to look at the strawberry blond.

"Mrs. Collier." I tipped my hat and offered a smile. She smiled in return and I caught myself noticing just how nicely shaped her lips were. Thankfully, her uncle continued the introductions which forced me to look elsewhere.

"And this is my granddaughter, Miss Clementine Walker."

"Miss Walker." Again, I tipped my hat, but the blond offered nothing more than a brief nod in return.

"We'd best get a move on. It's getting late." William turned to his niece.

"Now you go put Domino back in his paddock, and don't you be dilly dallying. We'll be eating shortly."

"Fifteen minutes!" Clementine added, seeming much calmer despite her tone. "If you're not in the house in fifteen minutes we're eating without you. I refuse to eat cold food again because you lost track of time again. You and your horses!"

"I'll be there," Abigail promised. The funny part was her uncle's reaction. Clearly, her being late to dinner was a common occurrence.

"Maybe you should borrow my pocket watch?" It was a question, but he was already pulling the timepiece from his pocket. I think he was teasing her. I couldn't be sure because I didn't know them well enough so I kept my smile to myself.

"No, thank you." The moon was full and out already. That let me see the mix of embarrassment and annoyance on her face. It suddenly became much harder to hide my amusement. Thankfully, William turned back to me, requiring my attention.

"You'll be joining us, of course." It might have been a question, but William's tone didn't make it seem like it. "We can sell you a horse, but it's too late to leave tonight. We can also give you a ride to town tomorrow if you'd prefer. We need some supplies."

"Thanks. I'll take a look at what you've got in the morning and make my decision."

"Our horses are the best in the area," Clementine said proudly, finally smiling. It was the first time she'd done it since I arrived. She was a pretty young thing and would make some man happy one day. "Or at least that's what they say."

"That's mostly due to Abigail. She's got a way with horses that's downright spooky at times." William was looking at his niece in pride. She once again looked embarrassed.

"Do you have any Cavalry trained mounts?" I figured the question would distract her from her discomfort. Plus, I really was curious.

"I thought you were done with war and fighting?" Abigail question came with a raised eyebrow. It caused me to hesitate. She was right in a way. I didn't really need a horse trained to war since I was no longer in the army.

"I am," I finally said slowly. "But I've been riding only cavalry trained horse for a long time and I'm too old to change my ways now."

"You're not that old." The words seemed to slip out of Abigail's mouth before she realized it. I saw her eyes grow big, but only briefly. I had to give her credit. She continued on as if nothing happened. "And I'm sure you'll like one or two of our horses."

"Of course, if you insist on cavalry trained, then you'll need to go to one of the bigger towns. Church Hollow won't have what you want." She frowned thoughtfully before adding, "Maybe Twisted River would. Certainly, Fort Laramie, but that's a ways away, a couple days ride at least. What do you think Uncle?"

"You got it right," William replied thoughtfully. "I can give Mr. Mosey a ride to Twisted River in the morning. We could use some supplies. If he can't find what he's looking for there, then he'll have to find his own way to Fort Laramie." I nodded in thanks and understanding.

"We'll all go," Abigail comment was offered in an offhand manner, but I didn't miss the grin she and Clementine exchanged. Neither did the old man. They obviously liked the idea of going to Twisted River. My guess was that it wasn't somewhere they traveled often. Abigail looked at me and added, "I know all of the good trainers in town. That will cut down your search time considerably."

"Thanks." I tipped my hat to the strawberry blond again. I figured I didn't need help finding a mount, but then again, I wouldn't mind her company along the trail, any of theirs really. I'd been alone far too long.

"Don't get your hopes up though," she cautioned. "I'd be surprised if you find a decent cavalry trained mount there."

"I understand," I smiled. "I'm willing to take my chances."

"You all better go inside and get ready for dinner." Abigail didn't seem like the nervous type, but her eyes darted away from mine as she spoke. "I may be good with horses, but Clementine is an amazing cook. You don't want to ruin a meal she made by letting it get cold."

"You just want me out of the way so you'll have more time with Domino." Okay, so maybe I was flirting a little, but it felt good and I hadn't done it nearly enough over the last few years. Mostly because there hadn't been time, but also because I hadn't met anyone like Abigail before.

"There is that too." She met my gaze once more as her throaty laughter flowed over me and caused much of the tension I'd felt over the last few months since I left my regiment to dissipate.

I'd mustered out of the army because it was time, but that didn't mean I knew what came next. After so many years having my life mapped out, it was surprisingly uncomfortable not knowing. I mean, I had a general plan, but no specific deadlines to meet.

"Mr. Mosey," the strawberry blond smiled politely.

"Mrs. Collier," I nodded in return.

I watched as Abigail handed her rifle to her uncle and moved toward the corral gate. It was too bad she didn't climb back over. I continued to watch until Clementine's teenaged sigh reminded me that I wasn't alone.

"Men." The girl was looking at me pointedly, but I refused to be stared down by a teenager. Eventually, she sighed again, loudly and turning her attention back to her cousin. Well, second cousin actually, but it was close enough. "Ten minutes until dinner," Clementine cried and began walking toward the house. It didn't stop her from calling over her shoulder, "And I'm locking the door so if you're late you're not coming in until we're done eating!"

"You know, I think she means it." I was mostly talking to myself, but that didn't stop William from responding.

"It wouldn't be the first time," he laughed. "Those two act like mother daughter half the time and like sisters the other half. It's enough to drive a grown man crazy." He paused and looked directly at me for a few seconds. He was no longer laughing, but his eyes were still lit in humor. "Although, I'm betting Abigail will make in in on time tonight." I knew what he was implying, but refused to comment on it. I couldn't deny my interest in Abigail, but I wasn't staying.

"We best be going," William added when I didn't take the bait he'd laid out. "Leave your gear. We'll deal with it later. We need to get washed up before dinner and I don't want to have to break down my own door to get into the house."

I thought he was kidding, but the little I knew about Clementine didn't lend itself to that belief. I shook my head and followed the old man to the well. I was uncomfortable leaving my Winchester out in the open like that, but I understood that the old man didn't want me to bring it with me.

We took turns pumping and washing up when we reached the well. The cold water was bracing, but honestly, after the day I'd had it felt good. We talked about army life because it was something we both knew. I shared a story or two, but mostly I listened as the old man relived some of his fonder memories. I was just finishing cleaning up when I felt him standing over me.

"I've always been pretty dang good at judging people Mr. Mosey," William said slowly. He was no longer smiling. Instead, he was holding the Spenser again in both hands, obviously more comfortable with it than the Henry. His stance was more of a warning than a threat. "And you seem like a good man."

"I'm inviting you into my home with my family, and they mean the world to me. If I'm wrong about you, then don't let these old bones fool you. You're clearly a dangerous man, but there was a time when I was too."

"I expect you still are when you need to be."

"Yes, I am." The warning in his voice didn't lessen in the least. "You're younger and faster so I probably won't survive the encounter if things turn bad, but then again, neither will you."

"Understood. I won't be causing any problem for you or yours." I stood there meeting William's eyes letting him read whatever he cared to see. I'd done things under orders I wasn't proud of during my time in the army, but I still thought of myself as a man of my word.

The old man stared for a few moments longer before nodding to himself. The tension in the air lessoned considerable and William smiled again. "Good, now if you don't mind, hand me that Henry and let's get going. I'm hungry."

I didn't quite shake my head and I picked the Henry up from where he'd left it while we washed up and handed it over. He was definitely a strange old guy, but the more I learned about him the better I liked him.

We moved onto the main house's porch. It had a warm, well used feel to it. There were a couple of rocking chairs and a chest I was guessing held some blankets, or possibly some knitting supplied. One of the rocking chairs had a blue sweater half made resting on it.

"Abigail," William supplied, which surprised me for some reason. He saw my expression and laughed. "I know, you wouldn't think a woman who likes to dress in men's clothes and is as good with horses as she is would be a knitter, but she makes most of our clothes."

"I expect she'd be good at anything she put her mind to," I said without thought.

"Everything, but cooking." The mirth in his expression made it obvious he was remembering some of her more impressive failed attempts. It faded slightly as he added, "I think that's why Clementine took to it so quickly when my missus died a few years back." I nodded, but didn't respond. Words would have seemed disrespectful to his obvious loss.

William led me into the house without another word. We pulled off our coats and dirty boots in the foyer. There was a shelf for our hats. After that, he led me to what was obviously his den. The house was a lot bigger than I thought when I'd ridden up. William had obviously done well for himself based on the furnishings.

There was a case for the rifles in his den and William started unloading the Spenser. I was brought up never to wear a gun in another man's house. It showed mistrust, and plain and simple, was downright rude so I unbuckled my gun belt and put it on his desk, but not before pulling my Peacemaker out of the holster and unloading it.

"Don't just stand there," he said gruffly when I was done. "The Henry won't unload itself." I didn't quite laugh as I picked up the rifle from where he's laid it down and started removing the cartridges. It wasn't long before we were both done. William put the rifles the rack and locked it. He also took my holster and hung in on a high hook clearly made for the purpose. There was another pistol hanging next to it. I took a closer look and smiled.

"A Colt Dragoon," I said in admiration. "You don't see many of those around these days."

"Cost me an arm and a leg back in the day," the old man smiled. "But it was worth it. That pistol saved my life on more than one occasion." He shook his head before adding, "Of course, it's just for show these days. I wouldn't trust shooting it."

"I had an 1860 Colt Army when I first started out. That was the only cap and ball revolver I ever owned."

"They were good enough back in my day, but the cartridge guns used nowadays are something else," the old man said wistfully. "I've seen a few like your Peacemaker before. Even shot one once, but I've yet to see a Schofield up close. You ever tried one?" There was real interest in William's voice and it brought back many fond memories of my conversations with fellow cavalrymen.

"Yeah," I smiled remembering. "I knew a trooper who could shoot, reload and shoot again before I could shoot and reload my Peacemaker." I paused and then shook my head. "But truth be told, I never much cared for them. Too many moving parts to maintain, and don't get me started on those short .45 Schofield cartridges they need."

"That same trooper was out of luck for a couple of months when all we had were the .45 Colt cartridges. The Peacemaker can shoot either. I think that was the main reason why the army now buys only the colts." The old man started to ask another question when we heard the front door open and close.

"That's Abigail. If she beats us to the table they'll be no hearing the end of it." William quickly led me through the house and into the kitchen. I didn't even bother trying to hide my grin as I followed.

Clementine was just putting the food on the table. There was a little boy somewhere around seven or eight helping. He was clearly too old to be Clementine's child. I guess he could have been her little brother, but he was the spitting image of Abigail, only with light brown hair.

"Billy, come meet Mr. Mosey," William said with obvious warmth. "He'll be eating dinner with us."

"Hello." The boy smiled tentatively. He looked at me with obvious interest, but the closer he got the less excited he seemed. "You're tall, but not nearly as scary as cousin Clementine described. And where's your revolver? Did you really point it at her? Grandpappy says we should never point a gun at someone."

"She pointed the Henry at me first." It was probably not the best response, but the little boy's words surprised me. It was hard not to laugh when he turned on the blond-haired girl.

"You pointed the Henry at him?" The accusation and his tone were down right comical.

"He was sneaking up on your mamma while she worked with Domino." His momma. It took me a second to digest the confirmation that Abigail was Billy's mother. It was right about then that I realized the boy was staring at me again.

"I wasn't sneaking up," I clarified. "I was about to introduce myself, but became distracted watching your mother training a horse." That made the boy smile again.

"I love watching momma with Domino, or any other horse." He was about to say something else, but then looked passed me. His smile turned into something far brighter. "Momma!"

The boy ran to her and gave her a hung. She hugged him back with one arm. She had my Centennial in her other hand as she took in everyone in the room. I saw her glance at my hip before nodding to herself and relaxing slightly.

"I didn't want to leave this outside unattended," she said in a voice that wasn't particularly believable. I understood the message, but then she smiled and added, "I'm going to put it in the den with the other guns. I'll be back shortly." That earned her a frown from Clementine, but no argument.

Abigail left, followed by her son which was a good thing because I could hear the boy asking question and after question as they disappeared down the hall. I really hadn't had all that much exposure to kids since I left home and I'd forgotten how inquisitive they could be. It was better if Abigail explained what happened.

Thoughts of the strawberry blond made me smile. I was well aware that she could have left my rifle outside or that she could have brought it in and put it in the den before joining us in the kitchen. She carried it into the kitchen to make sure everything was alright.

"You know, I get the feeling that your niece is almost as dangerous as you," I said to William as we sat at the table.

"In your case, I'm thinking she might be a wee bit more dangerous," he laughed, adding, "At least in some ways." The man was about as subtle as a train.

"I'm just passing through." I guess my comment could have been consider 'out of the blue', but he needed to understand. They all did.

"Where are you headed?" That question came from Clementine.

"My sister and her family settled a homestead about a week's ride from here," I answered, smiling at the thought of Jenny and her husband Charles. They had a whole gaggle of kids I was looking forward to seeing. "She has four children. This will be the first time I'm meeting two of them." Abigail and her son rejoined us.

"Four kids?" Billy interjected. He clearly liked the idea. "Momma, when am I going to have a little brother or sister?" In the candlelight I could make out more of Abigail's features. It turns out she blushed the nicest shade of red when she was embarrassed.

"Not any time soon."