by Sharon Kull

Created on: December 25, 2011

Adios Desperada

"Pack up your paints and bloomers, Ashley, we're heading west!" Sammuel bellowed as he slammed open the backdoor to their pale yellow little house and stomped into the kitchen. His coat was wide open, exposing a blue plaid shirt crossed by red suspenders.

About to set a kettle on the stove, she hesitated, swinging her gaze to focus on her husband of six months. The sight of him nearly always set her twenty year old heart to thumping, and not only because he was just about the most handsome man she'd ever seen. However, at this moment there was every temptation to bop the kettle she was holding against his head.

"What did you say?" she whispered hoarsely.

"We're going to start a new life out west."

"Yetch!"

"Does that mean you don't like the idea?"

"Have I ever said that and been favorable?"

"Well, no, not that I can think of." He gave pause, then tried, "You haven't seen the glory of the west."

"Haven't seen the glory of the inside of a privy hole, either. I don't need to have a look to know I don't want to go there. What's wrong with Kentucky, Sammuel Smite?" She had a feeling her day had just been ruined.

"We're going to start over, away from the crush of civilization." They resided in rolling forest land, and Barth, the closest town, had all of three hundred and fifty-seven people living within rock throwing distance of it. "I've sold the house and bought us a covered wagon. Why aren't you packing yet?"

Thunking the kettle onto the Franklin stove eased a teensie, weensie bit of frustration. However, there was a whole lot more where that came from. "You might be leaving, but I'm not!" Ashley countered defiantly, glaring at Sammuel for all she was worth. She didn't care if every other woman she had ever heard of allowed their husband to make all of the decisions. It wasn't in her to be treated like a cowering pet, rather than as a person.

Sammuel struggled to contain a cheer of laughter. This was definitely not the time to risk irritating her. "There's a chance that you'd see the humor in me trying to help our team, by shoving a fully loaded covered wagon..."

"Covered wagon? Did you say covered wagon?"

"Yes."

"Folks quit going anywhere in covered wagons over thirty years ago!"

Correct, and exactly why the wagons were selling for dirt cheap. The trick had been to find one that hadn't rotted apart, he mused. "Not everyone has stopped traveling in them."

 "Sammuel!" Ashley took her wooden spoon after him, running in hot pursuit when he turned and bolted out the open door. It instantly became obvious to her that she'd never get close enough to thwack him a good one, so she threw the spoon.

The spoon seemed to be moving in slow-motion as it performed a couple of loop-de-loops, impacted against a support post of the back porch, then picked up speed in a direct line toward a jar of mint jelly cooling on the railing. That end jar was knocked over, and began what equated to the fall of a row of dominoes. A grand total of eighteen jars of jelly toppled off the railing and onto the flagstone porch floor.

The noise of breaking glass was louder than the wail of despair emitted from the woman who'd spent many hours of the morning canning mint jelly.

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