I had never met the doctor, but I liked him as much as I did Nell. Both were trying to comfort a dying old man.
"They were kind to you?" he asked.
"Yes, very."
"I feared they would not honor our agreement." John reached forward to pinch a small amount of loose tobacco and place it in his pipe. "There have been many skirmishes of late. We are fortunate that the sheriff is here."
"He's … interesting," I murmured, not yet convinced he didn't know something he shouldn't about me. He's not someone I'd want to cross either. The men of this place were much harder and unfriendlier than I was accustomed to, but I guessed it was warranted in an untamed frontier.
"He's half-Indian, raised by the natives. It's why he can keep the peace here, unlike other places." John sighed. "The frontier was not so dangerous when we moved here."
I listened, unusually interested in the sheriff born of two worlds. In my time, it made him intriguing. Here, in a world where war was inevitable, I guessed it made him useful - and probably universally ostracized.
"The Indians are dangerous?" I asked.
"They are but one danger out here. Outlaws, robbers, cheats. The red men have been just to me. I have a history of dealing with them fairly, in granting their people refuge during the Great Storms that befell the plains twenty years ago. Their chief wants peace. He never forgets a kindness, and we share grazing lands for our cattle and sheep. But I fear, with the restlessness on the plains, my generation will be the last that knows peace."
I listened, too aware of how the story ended and uncertain what to say. John was right, but I hoped to change things.
He rested his head back against the chair in which he sat as if needing a breather. I pitied him. He was dressed in a black suit, his beard trimmed and his knobby fingers displaying some of his wealth in the form of gold rings laden with large gems. He was a classy man through and through, and I loved the idea he and the Native Americans next door worked together on the rugged plains.
A grandfather clock decorated with brass fixtures and inlaid with mother of pearl ticked away the seconds near the entrance of the study. Not wanting to disturb the ill old man, I rose with effort and went to the shelves of books that would be worth a small fortune in my time. Brass, wood and other antiques were used as bookends or decoration: multiple intrinsic clocks, old military weapons and swords, a shadow box with medals indicating John had served some sort of military service, an elaborate clay pipe collection displayed in velvet boxes, ivory carvings, portraits in varying sizes of men and women, and several photographs of his wife and daughter.