Bowman

"Most of the young men are off to the mines in the asteroid belt, or the outer moons where the big money is," she replied." We may be all horses, buggies, steam boats and trains down here, but when it comes to mining and farming, we are pretty much up to date." Molly informed him.

"I should have known that, but when that blasted computer gets to spieling off statistics I have a habit of tuning her out," he said as he admired a saucy blonde passing by on a large bay gelding.

"You know, you have a neighbor right next door that’s a widow lady like myself. Name's Vicky Malone. Her man was killed in a mining accident a few years back. She spends most warm seasons here with me. Doesn't mix much with the local folks."

John wasn't sure if that statement required a reply, so he just waited for the other shoe to drop. Relationships could be complicated for a man with his problems. But, Molly was going to try her best to do some match making, and he doubted anything he might say would discourage her.

Molly observed him for a spell. It was kind of like a cat watching a mouse. "She's a little on the sparse side for my taste, but she keeps the young bucks around here in a lather. Don't so much as notice them, but they run around drooling all over themselves, strutting like a bunch of young game cocks every time she walks down town," Molly exclaimed with a laugh.

"What's to do in the countryside, any hiking trails, or good camp sights?" John asked, trying to change the subject.

"Wouldn't know." Molly answered. "But I bet Vicky would. Why not ask her?" She suggested.

"You aren't going to let me walk around this one, are you?" He asked with a smile.

Molly squirmed around on the bench like a mischievous child, leaned out over the porch railing and looked down the street. "Here comes Vicky now. Won't hurt you to meet her," she said as she jumped to her feet to greet the young lady who was approaching the stoop.

"Hey Vicky! Have a nice walk. Got us a new guest. John Blake, Vicky Malone. He's your new neighbor, Just across the hall," Molly exclaimed in the way of introduction while urging John forward. "Hey Molly. Hey John." Vicky answered as she continued up the steps and across the porch to the front entrance without breaking stride.

"See what I mean, girl's got no social graces. Not enough meat on her bones," Molly mumbled to her self as she headed back to the kitchen. "Disgusting manners," She added.

"Well, if it helps any, what meat she has is well arranged," John laughed as Molly retreated in a huff.

Vicky came charging back down the stairs in a few minutes. She paused at the bottom of the porch steps and said, "Hey John Blake, Molly playing match maker again?"

"Afraid so," John admitted.

"She means well. Just gets a little carried away at times," Vicky explained. "Talk later, OK." She added and was gone.

For several days time passed slowly and very quietly. There was a small park not far from the boarding house. John enjoyed sitting on the benches and watching the local wildlife. Peace and quiet were the order of the day until he made a fatal mistake. From among his baggage he dug out a battered aged case and opened it. It contained a violin. An antique musical instrument that he had numbered among his most prized possessions for many years. He took his usual seat on the porch swing after dinner and began to play softly to himself. Ancient ballads, sea chanteys, old drinking songs and gypsy music from ancient Earth.

Vicky approached cautiously and took a seat on the bench. Molly soon joined her.