Here on the knoll near his house, the trees seemed to whisper as they rustled in the wind. A whispering that was almost musical as the leaves fluttered and limbs brushed against sister limbs in a dance that never failed to bring a smile to his lips. This was his home. This valley had been home to four generations of ancesters, and now it was his.

Three years ago, he had returned to the land. He had returned broken in both heart and spirit. The first month had been the worst. For exactly thirty days, he had remained in the shell of his camper. He had sat, wrapped in blankets, sometimes sleeping for eighteen hours at a time, sometimes unable to sleep for days on end. On the thirtieth day, he awoke to the sound of the whispering winds and decided to live.

Now, with his work for the day finished, he sat on his porch and thought of the two acres of corn that needed thinning. His vegetable garden needed weeding and the new split-rail fence he'd erected last summer was, in places, already covered with honeysuckle and blackberry vines. It seemed as though he could never get ahead with his outside chores, let alone keep up with the inside.

Settling back, he found himself smiling when he caught a glimpse of red and peered through the wisteria vines. The Widow Barrett was coming to see him again, bringing him a basket of her home-baked goodies like she usually did. Ah, if only she were a few years younger, he thought, watching her moving along. When she paused and lingered over a clump of roadside daisies, he couldn't help but admire her shapely legs and trim waist. A Monarch had caught her eye and he noticed how her eyes followed it's movements, following it from flower to flower and then upward into the sky. She couldn't see him sitting there behind the vines and the clumps of grape-like flowers so he followed her through the yard and up to the porch. It wasn't until she tilted her face to smell the fragrance that he spoke.

"What have you there for me today?" he asked.

"I have blackberry muffins, a blackberry pie, and some blackberry jam," she answered.

"Well, I wondered who had been picking my blackberries," he commented. "Now I know."

"Why, do you think I bring it to you free of charge?" she quarried. "For your charms? Forget it. You aren't that charming. It's just payment for the berries I take."

He laughed. He had good strong laugh. "It is nice payment indeed."

They talked a few minutes of the weather and how badly they needed rain, then he picked up the basket and invited her to accompany him into the kitchen for a cup of hot tea.

She didn't say anything when her eyes fell on a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, but he saw her nose twitch. He saw how she looked around, taking in the crumbs on the floor and the curtain rod that had come loose from the window that he hadn't taken time to fix.

"While you're heating the water," she finally said, dropping to a chair, "why don't you heat enough so I can wash your dishes? If there's anything I hate, it's a pile of dirty dishes in the sink."

He laughed again and thought how much he liked this spunky, industrious woman.

She looked him over good as he was getting the water ready. She admired his strong muscular looks. "If only he were a few years older," she thought.

She heard him laugh. Oh gosh! had she said that out loud, when she meant only to keep it in her thoughts?

"You know," he said. "Age is only a problem if we let it be."

He hadn't realised how much he missed the company of a woman. It was the quiet times that seemed the most special. Times when he sat and read the paper while she busied herself with the myriad tasks that occupied a woman in the maintaining of a home. She had finished the dishes and swept up a bit when she returned to the living room.

She was surprised to find him watching her every move. She was even more surprised to see that he had tears in his eyes.

"I don't know how you manage," she began. She wouldn't question him about the tears because she sensed he wouldn't want her feeling sorry for him. "Keeping a home in order is tough enough without having the animals, machinery, and fields to keep up," she said, going on. Look." She paused and drew a quiet breath, hoping he wouldn't take what she said next as boldness on her part. "If you'll allow me to, I'll come over a couple of days each week and tidy things up a bit. And in exchange for my time," she said, smiling, "you can help ME by doing a little patching on my roof. I'm getting too old to climb up ladders anymore and I've discovered a couple of places where it leaks."

The tears stopped and he felt a tad embarrassed. He knew she had seen. "I guess an explanation is in order," he said.

"No, none needed. We all feel like that sometimes."

"I want to tell you about it. I need to talk to someone about it."

"Only if you want to. I am a good listener and I promise not to judge."

For the next hour he talked of his past, of the marriage that had failed, of the dreams he'd had that had never, and would never, materialize. But he had his land, this land, he told her, and for that he was thankful. His melancholy moods came less frequently now, he admitted, but he still had them and he guessed there would always be times.......

She broke in finally. "It appears to me that you've come to terms with your lot and for what it's worth, I admire you."

"It hasn't been easy."

"No, I'm sure it hasn't." She lowered her voice. "We've all had our disappointments, my friend, but as you know, it's our trials and tribulations that help us to grow." She stood, smiled, and took a few steps that indicated she was leaving. "And here we are, the two of us," she paused to add. "We work all day, fret and stew, but we're making it."

When he saw her stand, he stood, too, and the two of them crossed the room to the door.

He watched as she went down the steps and crossed to the shrubs and trees and then disappeared. She sure must have been a beauty in her time. He had to admit that he was interested. But she was old enough to be his mother. She could never give him the children he desired. It would take a young woman to keep up with any children he would father.

It was getting dark so he decided to let the work remain until tomorrow. He went inside to his now clean house and cut himself a piece of pie.

The moods DID come less frequently now, but when they did come, the pain was almost unbearable.

"You're not as exciting as he is," she had told him.

"You will never amount to anything," she had said.

"He's handsome and you look like Abe Lincoln without the beard," she had said cuttingly.

Finally, she had said the most hurtful thing of all. "He makes me feel like a woman, and you.........you don't even have a clue."

How many more years would it be before it stopped hurting, he wondered. How many more years before he could love again.

It was dusk when he saw her. He was driving the last nail in a fence he was mending when he glanced up and saw her emerging from the woods. He knew immediately she was a runaway because of the skittish way she crossed the field. She was headed for the barn, his barn, so he picked up his tools and set out.

He thought she would run when she saw him, but she didn't, and when he caught up, he saw why. Her right eye was swollen and her lips were cut and bruised. Large purple bruises covered the length of her right arm and the legs of her jeans were torn. "Hey," he said, and he saw the terrible pain in her eyes.

"Please Mister," she pleaded.. Her voice was weak and barely audible. "Could I spend the night in your barn? I won't do you any harm."

When he approached her, he realized she wasn't a child, but a woman of about twenty-five years. Her slight build made her seem to be a child. He saw how badly someone had beaten her and his heart almost broke with her plight. He had the misfortune of being way too sensitive for a man.

No, you can't stay in the barn. It will be to dangerous for you. Come, you can camp on the old couch in the big room. She hesitated, but then followed him into the cabin.

He didn't pry, although he wanted to do so. He just found some blankets and a pillow for her. Once she was settled, he went into the kitchen and fussed around making her a sandwich. He brought that along with coffee to her.

She ate gingerly, her mouth hurting, but she was hungry so she ignored the discomfort.

She fell asleep shortly after finishing the sandwich. He sat in a chair across from the couch and watched her as she slept. 'This is something every man should have' he thought to himself. 'A woman to watch over.' He continued to watch her sleep until the fire was scattered embers, then he went to bed.

He lay there thinking about the man who had hurt her this way. He would like to meet this poor excuse for a man. He would enjoy having a few words with such a man.

He hoped the young woman would still be here in the morning. Maybe he could get her to eat some pancakes.

His normal routine was to rise early, make his coffee and fix his breakfast, which was usually a couple of eggs, two slices of toast, and a piece of fruit. So he was surprised when he woke to the aroma of coffee and heard movement in his kitchen.

"Hey," he said when he saw her. She was just up, he noticed, but although she still wore her purple bruises and lacerations, her eyes were brighter. "I... I don't know what to say. I certainly didn't expect to find you up this early and I'm very surprised to find you making coffee." He ran his fingers through his tousled hair and smiled. "And come to think of it, I don't even know your name."

"It's Rachel." She smiled a little. "It's Rachel Ann. If you don't mind, I'd rather not say my last name."

"Rachel Ann, that's a lovely name. I don't need to know more about your name, but I would like to help if you let me."

Rachel heard the kindness in his voice and began to cry. Nobody had ever treated her with kindness before and she didn't know how to react to it.

He crossed the room quickly and took her in his arms. She flinched and pulled away. He didn't try to stop her. She was obviously abused and obviously afraid.

He waited patiently for her to explain. And when she saw that he wouldn't force the issue and would continue his kindness, she haltingly explained.

"I have run away from home. My mother died when I was young, and my father kept me around to do chores. He found out I had a boyfriend and he shot him. Then he beat me, and said if I ever tried to leave, he would shoot me too."

"You needn't be afraid anymore. The first thing we are going to do is to drive to the sheriff's office and tell him about all this. Then I will bring you back here and protect you until your father is arrested. I won't hurt you. I won't touch you. You will be totally safe."

Rachel agreed, and they went out to the truck and drove away to the sheriff's office. She cried all the time she was telling her story. The Sheriff believed every word. Her bruises attested to the truth of it.

After taking care of what had to be done with the sheriff, they got in the truck and started back to his place, but as they neared it, she began to fidget.

"What is wrong Rachel Ann? I told you you would be safe with me."

"I am nervous about staying with you before my father is captured. He is a mean man. He will shoot you before you have a chance to defend yourself."

"Ok, maybe staying with a man isn't the best solution. But hidden in a grove not far from me, a widow lives. You can't see her house unless you know where to go. I know the way and I am sure she will let you stay with her. She has had some hard times too and will fully understand."

Rachel agreed to this and they continued to the widow's house, where they were warmly greeted.

"Of course you will stay with me. And you will be safe," the widow said as she pointed to the shotgun near the door and the many locks on her door and all the shutters.

The banging on his front door awakened him. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, he saw it was just after one in the morning. He rolled to one side of the bed and was reaching for his robe when a shotgun blast took out the window over the bed.

"I know she's in there," sang out a drunken voice. "You send her out here right now or I'll kill the both of you!"

He had his robe now and he quietly crayfished his way across the room to his own twelve guage shotgun in the far corner of the room. "Your daughter's not here" he yelled back, then rolled back toward the bed.

The girl's father stepped through the window with his gun aimed at the far corner when he'd last heard a voice. Each man saw the other at the same time. Both fired within a second of one another.

And both bullets went astray, missing their mark.

"I'm telling you, your daughter isn't here!" the farmer shouted.

The drunken man staggered, grabbed the corner of a chest, and stood there, trying to maintain his balance. The farmer saw his chance and dove for the drunken man's legs, taking him to the floor. He grabbed a heavy doorstop and with one well-delivered blow, knocked the man out.

Within an hour, the sheriff had the drunken man in custody and on his way back to the jail. This time there would be no chance for escape. This time he would be found guilty of breaking and entering as well as attempted murder.

The farmer called the Widow Barrett and told her the circumstances. He owed her for taking Rachel in, he added, and that afternoon he would bring his tools and patch her roof.

He was working on the roof, and heard everything being said in the house below.

"Rachel Ann," began the widow with hesitation. " I am not sure how to tell you this. But I guess the best thing to do is just blurt it out and hope you forgive me."

Rachel listened intently, not knowing what this was about.

"Years ago, when you were small, your father threw me out. I am your mother."

"But he told me you were dead," Rachel answered.

"I was as good as dead to you. I made a terrible mistake, and had an affair. Your father beat me up, and threw me out."

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Rachel cried. "Why did you leave me with that mean old man?"

"He threatened to kill you if I tried to take you with me. And I think he would have. I stayed close as I dared. I watched from hidden places as you grew into the beautiful woman you have turned into. But I dared not approach or introduce myself. For sure he would have killed us both."

Rachel was astonished. She didn't know if she should hug her mother or be angry.

As he worked on the roof,listening to all this, he realized that he had flirted a bit with the girls mother. It embarrassed him to think he was so fickle. He thought he was a more stable man than that. But he knew what he felt for the widow, was friendship that came from lonliness. And what he felt for the girl was sympathy for her plight. But he admitted to himself that he was lonely and the girl was more the right age to give him the children he wanted.

He finished the repairs on the roof and came down the ladder. He was thirsty. He was thirsty for water, but he was thirsty for love even more.

The days that followed were busy, but happy ones. The land had never been more fertle that summer and the livestock thrived. Jack Campbell hired three men to help with planting, gathering the crops, looking after the cattle and a thousand other chores that needed doing on a rapidly growing farm/ranch.

Jack and his mother/daughter neighbors grew very close that summer. A bond began to form between the three of them.

Now that Rachel was free from her father's influence and abuse, she began to take pride in her appearance. She learned from her mother, the widow, how to sew and she made herself several new garmets. She learned how to prepare and cook different foods and enjoyed cooking for Jack Campbell when her mother invited him for supper.

For several weeks now, Rachel and Jack had developed the habit of going for a walk after dinner. He would talk about his future plans and although she hadn't formulated any plans for her future, she would listen to him talk about his.

Love was fast developing between Rachel and Jack. Now that her bruises were healing, he realized what a beautiful woman she was. He knew his limitations. While he had a good build and kind nature, he was no Adonis. He wondered if she could ever find him appealing.

Rachel wasn't blind to the fact that Jack was not a handsome man. But to her, he was the most attractive man in the universe. She grew to love his craggy face. He was a hardworking man. A gentle and kind man. And she knew he was the man who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She knew she could be happy with him by her side. She wanted to be his wife and give him children. But she was shy, and didn't realize his thinking was matching hers.

The months passed. The two became closer and closer. It was inevitable that they should start planning a life together. He worked hard, she came to clean for him. Finally he asked the question and she answered the way he hoped.

"Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," she smiled.

They were married the following week in the small country church by the local parson.

Time passes so quickly, Jack thought as he stood on the knoll in front of their home. Beside him stood his wife, Rachel Ann. Behind them, were two tall sons and a daughter.

The valley below was now cris crossed with dirt and gravel roads. More than five thousand cattle now grazed on Campbell land and more than a hundred men earned their livelihood working the ranch, the farm and the orchards that covered the valley.

They even had a little enclosed graveyard now. Rachel Ann's mother had been laid to rest just this past summer. One day, it would be his turn. God willing, his wife would live long after his life was over.

Whatever else the remainder of his life might hold for him, there would be yet another generation of Campbells. He only hoped their lives would be as rich and as blessed as his had been.

The sun disappeared below the horizon and, suddenly it was twilight. He squeezed his wife's hand, leaned over and kissed her, then put an arm around the shoulder of each of his sons. Together, the family walked along that familiar path toward home.

THE END