Chapter Forty, Part Three

They had been working on the puzzle for a little over an hour. Robert had pieced the edges together while Sophie fiddled with what she could figure out of the internal patterns – a dark red stripe on an Indian blanket, the contours of a pottery vase. Robert had tried years ago to teach her a methodology to solving jigsaw puzzles, but although she would listen with all the appearance of earnestness, she always reverted to type, putting pieces together as the whim suited her.

“Have you ever been to where the Navajos live?” Sophie asked.

“Hm?” Robert was working on the outlines of a flat adobe roof. “No. I’ve been to some of the other pueblos though, like Acoma and Isleta.”

“Was that during the civil war?”

“Yes.”

“But weren’t they Nativists?”

“Some were, some weren’t. We had to make peace with all of them or we’d never have a nation.”

Sophie struggled with a striped pottery piece and got it to fit, but Robert shook his head.

“That doesn’t really match. Look at how the stripes are lining up.”

“It looks okay.”

“No, if you leave it there, then nothing else will fit.” He pried the pieces apart.

Sophie reached for another piece. “Was it hard to get the Indians to make peace?”

Robert smiled. “Not as hard as it was to get the Texans to go away.”

“They wanted our minerals,” Sophie said wisely.

“Yes.” Robert stopped piecing together a patch of blue sky. “How did you know that?”

The girl shrugged and bent back over her pieces. “People around here talk about the war sometimes.” She fell silent for a few minutes before speaking again. “Who is the man who wants to kill you? The one from the war?”

Robert sat up straight. “Why would you want to know that? It’s not important.”

“But what if he comes here? What if I hear people talking about him before you do? Who would warn you?”

“He won’t come here.” Robert grabbed a puzzle piece at random and put it in the correct spot without looking or thinking about it. He could do that sometimes, when he didn’t let his own brain get in the way. “He came here long ago. Twice. And since he didn’t find me here, he left. There’s no reason for him to come back.”

“But what if he does?”

Robert stood up. “How about some hot tea?” As he prepared their drinks over the stove, he wondered what had gotten into Sophie tonight. Hopefully it was all just innocent curiosity and not any gossip she was hearing at school or on the streets. How, indeed, would he know if Will showed up in town? But why would he come looking here after all these years? The only reason to he might have would be if he heard a rumor...

He set Sophie’s mug in front of her, and when she wasn’t looking, slipped a little whiskey into his own before returning to the puzzle.

They worked steadily for another hour, making occasional remarks about their progress or other inconsequential things, until Sophie’s yawns indicated it was time for her to go to bed. Robert waited downstairs, sipping more whiskey, straight this time, while he listened to Sophie getting ready for bed upstairs. When her stirrings had finally settled, he went upstairs to tuck her in and wish her good night. But before he turned out her light, on an impulse he said softly, “If you ever hear the name William Channing, come tell me, okay?”