Vagabond - part 5: Fugitive

Vagabond - part 5: Fugitive She paled slightly and collapsed where she stood. I checked her, and she was breathing just fine - only fainted. The wine must have affected her more than expected. I dressed and picked her up. she mumbled quietly - "Arthur... I miss you." Her eyelids fluttered. I carried her into the house and set her gently on her bed. She stirred once and slept. Libby tried to behave normally on Sunday, but she had embarrassed herself greatly. I tried to reassure her, but she would have none of it and continued to apologize every time our paths crossed. By evening she seemed to recover a bit. "I guess I miss Arthur more than I like to let on," she explained at dinner. "You fit in here so well - I guess I just got carried away." I told her I understood and was really quite flattered. She seemed to take heart at that and wished me a good night as I headed for the barn. "Don't worry," she said, "I won't be a-spyin' on you no more," and she actually grinned. Monday - cheese and butter day. There was also a bushel of lovely apples to spare as well. I hitched up 'ol Ned and loaded the buckboard. Libby waved and clucked and off they went. The day seemed to go well without any unusual events. I was working on the porch steps when Libby returned. I could tell immediately that something was wrong from the way she sat. I took care of the horse and came into the kitchen. "David," she said, her eyes averted, "There's a poster up in the General Store - 'pears to be your picture on it. Sez you killed a feller in Albuquerque." My heart fell at this news. I explained everything to her, and she gave me a strong hug. "I believe you, David. I'm a good judge of people." I knew it wouldn't be long before suspicion would find its way to Libby's farm. The talk about her "new hand" would surely send the curious sheriff out here to "check it out." I had no delusions that I could successfully defend myself here or back home. I determined it was time to move on. Libby was disappointed, but she was used to dealing with life's "little" upsets. She'd been fine before I came, she'd be fine when I left. That night, as I lay in the loft bed, I heard the door softly open and the patter of bare feet on the plank floor. She touched my shoulder gently and when I turned towards her she placed her finger on my lips to shush me up. The full moon shone through the gable window, framing her in a golden glow. Her eyes sparkled and I knew that I wanted her as much as she obviously wanted me. I packed and left the next morning while she still slept. A fugitive and a vagabond I may be, but I will always remember that farm, that autumn, and my Libby. - Fin - 3/27/2002 Written March 27th, 2002 © on Mar 27 2002 02:16 PM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl    0 • 10