In fact, during further questioning, this was the first decent meal poor Caleb had eaten in quite a long time. How old are you Caleb?" asked Melonie. He thought for a moment, then replied, "Fourteen, Ma'am,' he said with a smile. "1863," I said aloud. "Know what date?"
"July first, Mr. Channing." both Jake and I announced at the same time,
"Gettysburg...First day." Montana gave us both a look,
"Why are you men so obsessed with that damned old war?"
"History, Montana," I shot back. "your's more than ours, but that "damned old war,"
continues to influence people and event's clear up into our own time."
"Where are your parent's Caleb," asked Melonie.
"Indians Ma'am, got kilt when I was ten, Mr. Kelly took me in, been working for him ever since.
"Didn't he ever feed you?" asked Montana.
"Sometimes, Ma'am, if there was enough." all of us looked at him in horror,
"Got a regular "Oliver Twist here," I observed.
"Well don't you worry young man," assured Melonie, "You'll always get enough to eat around here," then looking at Jake and I like we had no intention of feeding him either.
Melonie made sure he was warm and comfortable in the tent then returned to the discussion we had been having about Caleb, and Mr. Kelly. One thing was clear though.
Jake and I were planning on going down there in the morning and getting his "mind right." Jake was all for leaving a horse's head in the man's bed, but I told him this wasn't "The Godfather."