Joimus made tea for the three of them and they sat at the big kitchen table drinking it and talking about Rev. Wells. Alistair asked Maximus, "When
we were getting on his pajama top, did you notice those round scars? He must have had four or five of them."

Maximus wiped a hand across his chin. "Bullet wounds."

"What? Really?" Somehow Alistair hadn't expected that.

"They were old, though. Had to have been made some years back."

"But so many?"

"I know. You do not usually find clergy with such a number of them."

Alistair sat back in his chair, an odd expression on his face. "I should hope not."  He shook his head.

"So he couldn't have gotten those when the mission burned," Joimus commented. "Something bad happened to him back before that."

"Makes one wonder just what sort of life the man has led," Alistair whistled.

"He's definitely a puzzle," Joimus nodded. "I hope he's getting some rest."

He had slept briefly, but now lay awake, raking through every memory he had, trying to find some explanation, any explanation of why he was there. But his memories were so few and most of them involved the field, that not a single thing fell into place for him. Then he realized he needed to relieve himself and got up, looking around for a chamber pot. He even checked under the bed. Frustrated, he opened the door and peered down the hall. He could hear voices rising up the stairs. Sounded like the folks he'd just met. Should he ask them where a chamber pot might be?

He decided to walk down the long hallway, check in the open doorways. The house was large. Surely at least one of the rooms up here would have something as necessary as a chamber pot. He found a big bedroom and searched quietly around. No pot. Not even a wash stand. There hadn't been one of those in his room, either. Another door proved to be a large closet filled with towels and linen. He was just closing the door to that when
Maximus appeared at the head of the stairs.

"Would there be something I might assist you with?" he asked.

Hesistating a moment, but urged on by rising necessity, he replied, "Chamber pot? Can't find one."

Maximus smiled, coming up into the hallway and opening the door to a large bathroom. "In here." All too well he remembered his early confusion with modern plumbing. "I will wait for you in your room."

Maximus was standing by the bedroom window, staring out at his land when the man returned and sat on the edge of the bed. Slowly Maximus turned, holding out the small New Testament. "I believe this would belong to you."

He didn't take it, just looked at it in Maximus' hand. "Why?"

"It was in the pocket of your coat." He opened it to the title page, holding it close. "Does the inscription mean anything to you?"

He shook his head. "Who's Pedro?"

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me that."

"Nothing about it looks familiar to me."

"And the name...Reverend Cortland Wells?"

"No. Never heard of him."

"It has to have been in your pocket for some reason."

"I...I don't know. I don't know."

"Would you mind, though, if I addressed you as Cortland since we have nothing else?"

"Cort," he replied quickly, and when Maximus' eyes widened, he added, "Cortland seems too long. Cort's better."

"Cort it shall be, then. For the time being at least. Are you hungry, Cort?"

"I think I could eat a cow," Cort replied.

"Well, just do not nibble on the ones in my pasture," Maximus grinned, "and we shall see what we can do about getting some food into you." He nodded toward the neatly stacked clothing Alistair had brought. "Reverend Harris thought those might fit you. You may, of course, dress again in the ones in which you arrived. I think, though, they could use a good cleaning. Would you like them cleaned, Cort?"

Cort looked at the brown attire feeling no particular relation to them. "Those are mine?"

"They are, indeed, all you have at the moment...other than this, of course." He set the little Bible on the bed near Cort.

"Guess I'd be much obliged then," he nodded and Maximus gathered the bundle of them in his arms. "I'll just wear these right now," he said, looking at the jeans and shirt.

"I shall be downstairs. Please, come down when you are ready."

"Much obliged," Cort mumbled again. "For everything."

"One cow coming up," Maximus smiled, then closed the door behind himself.