Only 06 - Winter Fire

“Lordy, lordy, that was a long time ago.”
    Ute looked at the odd mug from all sides, grunted, and said one word.
    â€œWedding.”
    â€œWhat?” Sarah asked.
    â€œIt’s like a…” Ute searched for a word.
    â€œCeremonial mug?” she suggested. “Only used on special occasions?”
    He nodded vigorously.
    â€œMy mother’s brother’s people used them when a couple got hitched,” Ute said. “Some ’Paches do, too, so I hear. Shaped different, though.”
    â€œAs small as this?” Sarah asked.
    â€œHell, no,” he said in disgust. “Man couldn’t wet even half of his whistle with them thimbles.”
    â€œHave you ever heard of anything like this?” Conner asked, turning toward Case.
    Case shrugged without bothering to turn around.
    Disappointed by the other man’s lack of interest, Conner shifted his attention back to Sarah.
    â€œWas there any more?” he asked his sister eagerly.
    â€œListen to you,” she said, laughing. “They way you’re acting, you’d think it was Spanish silver.”
    â€œIt’s as good as,” Conner said.
    Ute snorted. “Boy, you try spending that trash and you’ll find out right quick the difference twixt mud and metal.”
    Conner shot Ute a disgusted look.
    â€œWhat I meant,” Conner said, “was that the mug and Spanish silver are both valuable because they’re…well, history, I guess. It’s like touching a piece of something or someone who lived a long, long time ago.”
    â€œYes,” Sarah agreed. “Kind of ghostly, but in a good way.”
    Her brother stared at the miniature pottery, obviously fascinated.
    â€œIf you found enough things like this,” he said finally, “maybe you could understand what the people who made it were like, what they thought and felt and dreamed.”
    â€œYou sound like Father,” she whispered. “He loved the ancient things best of all.”
    â€œWhat do you need a bunch of junk for?” Lola asked. “You already know what them folks was like.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?” Conner asked. “Because Ute came from people like these?”
    â€œHell, boy. Ute’s more a mongrel than that dog slinking around trying to herd chickens.”
    Ute chuckled.
    â€œThey was people,” Lola said, pointing to the double mug. “Good, bad, greedy, giving, smart, stupid, and everything betwixt and between. Just people like us.”
    â€œWe don’t make mugs like that,” Conner said.
    â€œBut we get thirsty and we drink out of more than our hands,” she retorted.
    â€œWe make toys for our children that are miniatures of things we use every day,” Sarah added.
    â€œLittle wagons instead of big?” Conner asked.
    â€œDolls instead of babies,” she agreed, smiling. “And tea sets instead of—”
    The cabin door shut behind Case. Hard.
    â€œWhew,” Lola said. “Glad to see the back of that boy heading out. Like having a grizzly with a sore tooth in to supper.”
    â€œSome folks don’t like ghost things,” Ute said.
    â€œHuh,” Conner said. “You think he’s scared of a little—”
    â€œAfraid of,” Sarah corrected.
    â€œ Afraid of a girl’s toy?”
    â€œNot liking something ain’t the same as being scared of it,” Ute said. “I don’t like fish worth a tinker’s damn, but I sure ain’t scared of ’em.”
    â€œYou eat snakes,” Conner said.
    â€œThey ain’t slimy. Fish is slimy as snot.”
    Sarah cleared her throat.
    â€œâ€™Scuse me,” Ute muttered. “Got to get some firewood.”
    â€œGood idea,” she said, looking directly at her brother. “Take the piebald mustang. She’s used to awkward loads.”
    â€œHell, I know that,” Conner said, disgusted. “Who do you think taught her to pack loads like a burro?”
    She bit back an impatient retort. He was right. He had been the one to coax the mustang into accepting double duty as a pack animal.
    But the habit of giving orders to her little brother was hard to break.
    You have Conner tied so tight to you with those apron strings it’s a blazing wonder he can breathe .
    â€œI’m sorry,” Sarah said quietly.
    Surprised, Conner turned back and stared at his sister.
    â€œI shouldn’t be telling you things you