“I’ll see if I can scare up some game.”
“No, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“My darling Miss Kallahan. I would let you, but I’d like to eat sometime tonight.”
She blushed, recalling the inordinately long waits he’d endured between meals lately. But if he recalled, he’d always eaten; she’d not let him go hungry. Acorns and nuts gathered near the mouth of the cave. She tried running a rabbit down on foot once, but that had consumed all her energy. She wasn’t fast or clever enough to best nature.
Toward morning, they finally met a wagon. Hope sat beside Dan on the side of the road; both were too fatigued to go on. Dan had carried the saddle all night; he couldn’t walk another step.
Hope sprang up when she spotted a young man who looked no more than fifteen wielding the buckboard. Sawing back on the reins, he brought the wagon to a halt. A goat was tied to the back. “Havin’ trouble?” the youth said.
It would take all day to tell him how much trouble they’d had, so Hope came right to the point.
“A cougar spooked our horse, and it ran off. My brother is injured and needs medical care. Can we catch a ride with you to the next town?” When she saw hesitancy in his eyes, she rushed on. “Could you at least haul his saddle in the wagon for us? As soon as my brother’s able, he’ll be back to get it.”
The boy eyed her suspiciously. They must look a fright—clothes torn and dirty, Dan unshaven, her hair wild as a March hare.
“Muddy Flats is five miles down the road. I spent the night with a friend there, and I’m on my way home to do chores. I’m an hour late; Ma would have my hide if I was to take you all the way back into Muddy Flats and leave those heifers bawling to be milked.”
Hope sagged against the wagon. “We really do need your help.” Their feet were in bad shape, but they could take it slower, walk the remaining distance to Muddy Flats; but Dan couldn’t carry the saddle, and she couldn’t bear to see him leave it behind. “If you’ll just take the saddle—”
“Ma wouldn’t hold for that. Says we ain’t to take anything that we don’t earn.”
“I’m not giving you the saddle; I’m only asking you to keep it for us until we return to claim it.”
The boy shook his head. “Cain’t. I don’t know you folks, and that’d be like taking something that wasn’t mine.”
Dan slowly got to his feet and walked toward the wagon. The blisters caused his gait to be slow and uneven. Leaning on the wagon’s side, he took a deep breath. “Would you make a trade? My saddle for whatever you offer.”
“Dan,” Hope murmured.
Dan repeated the proposition. “My saddle for whatever you got.”
The boy eyed the fine-looking saddle, breaking into a youthful grin. “It’s a fine saddle. How ’bout I trade you … a goat for it?”
“Yeah—how about that,” Dan grumbled.
“Oh, Dan! You can’t trade your saddle for a goat.” Hope eyed the mangy critter tied to the back of the wagon. It was worse than the pig.
The goat bleated in protest.
Dan turned away. “The goat can walk; the saddle can’t.”
“It’s a deal?” the boy cried.
“It’s a deal, son.”
The boy hopped out of the wagon and made a beeline for his prize. Hope hurried along behind him. “We’ll be back—will you trade back if we bring money instead of the goat?”
“Money?”
“Twenty-five dollars.” It was all the money Hope had to her name, money she’d made sewing and looking after old Mrs. Johnson when she took ill a few years back. The money was in her missing bags, but when she got them back, she’d have the money. And she’d use every bit of it to buy Dan’s saddle back.
“Twenty-five dollars!” The boy clearly couldn’t believe his luck. “I’ll trade back for twenty-five dollars!”
Minutes later, the old wagon rumbled away with Dan’s saddle lying on the front seat beside the boy. Before he left, Hope got his name.
“Take good care of that saddle!” she yelled as the buckboard rattled off.
“Yes, ma’am! You take good care of my goat!”
Her bottom lip curled with disgust. She’d take care of that goat—but she’d be back for Dan’s saddle.
And Clifford Baker had better hand it over.
“How far did he say it was to the next town?”
Walking was easier now that Hope didn’t have to worry about Dan and the saddle, but the sun was full up now. Birds flew overhead on their way to breakfast.
“The boy said five miles.”
Five miles. It might as well be five hundred. Would she ever see Medford? or John Jacobs? Did she even care any longer? She was beginning to think her intended husband was a curse. As horrible as the past few weeks had been, she still wasn’t in any hurry to reach her destination. She was in even less hurry to leave Dan’s company. Once they reached Medford, she would never see him again.
“We’ll come across a farm before much longer. Maybe we’ll find a kind soul who’ll offer us a hot meal.”
So far, strangers had proved ruinous. She wasn’t sure she would accept a meal from a Good Samaritan without serious thought. Still, the idea of a hot meal was delicious to think about. Hotcakes dripping with melted butter, fat sausage patties, cups of cold, spring-cooled milk. She’d taken food for granted in the past, but never again would she be gluttonous without the hurtful knowledge that somewhere, someone was terribly hungry.
Dan pulled the goat behind him, slowing their progress. The animal was stubborn, intent on eating everything she could snatch between steps. They had followed a riverbank for the last hour. The wet hem of Hope’s dress slapped against her ankles, but she was barely aware of the discomfort.
Katie Morris, the woman Dan once loved, popped into her mind. Envy only added to her misery. Had Dan looked at Katie the way he had looked at her in the cave during his conscious moments, with helpless masculine vulnerability? Had he held Katie in his arms, whispered his love, and planned a future with her?
Think of more pleasant things, Hope. But there wasn’t anything pleasant to think about. She was wet, tired, and hungry, and the goat was getting on her nerves. She couldn’t imagine where Dan found the enthusiasm to push ahead when she knew he must be in fierce pain and probably willing to shoot the goat. During the night they milked the animal and drank the warm liquid for sustenance, but Hope’s stomach demanded solid food.
“Can’t we stop now?”
“Soon—there has to be a family living along the riverbank somewhere.”
They walked on until Dan suddenly stopped. The goat plowed into him. Hope plowed into the goat.
Untangling herself from the animal, she pressed closer to Dan, peering around his shoulder. “What is it?” Please, God. Let it be food and shelter.
“A cabin.”
“A cabin?” She cried out with relief when she spotted a fair-size dwelling, barn, and outbuilding in a secluded grove. Two mules stood inside a small pen. Her eyes followed Dan’s to a garden patch not yet plowed. There was no movement inside the house, no sign of life.
“What do you think?” she whispered.
“I don’t know—looks like the place is occupied.”
Someone lived here. Food. Warmth. Dry clothing. “Do we take a chance and see if they’re friendly?” She held her breath as he studied the situation. His gaze shifted from the barn back to the cabin where a wisp of smoke curled from the chimney.
“We don’t have a choice. You need clean clothes and hot food. Maybe we can buy both from whoever lives here.”
“How? We have no money.”
“I can give a promissory note that my agency will pay for anything we use.”
She wanted to wring her hands. “What if no one’s there?”
“Then we break down the door and help ourselves. We’ll still pay for it later.”
How could he be so calm when her heart was racing with anticipation?
She scrambled after
him as Dan started down the gentle incline, dragging the goat behind him. She was encouraged when there was no visible sign of interest in their approach.
Red-and-white-checked curtains covered the front windows, but there was no sign of life behind them. Dan hauled the reticent goat up the steps, and Hope followed.
The two exchanged a resigned look; then Dan rapped on the door.
A faint sound penetrated the heavy wood.
“Did you hear that?” Hope whispered.
Dan nodded, then knocked again, harder this time. The faint cry came again.
“Hello?” Dan called, nudging the door open a crack. The old portal groaned on squeaky hinges.
Hope looked around Dan’s shoulder, trying to see into the dim interior.
Someone—something, she couldn’t make out who or what—was stretched out in a mammoth bed, beckoning them to enter.
Glancing up at Dan, she swallowed. “It wants us to come in.”
“Then let’s go in.”
Hope took a deep breath. No telling what they were getting into this time.
Stepping back, she pointed to the goat. “She goes first.”
Chapter Eleven
“Come in!” the figure in the bed yelled. “Been waiting for ya!”
Hope entered hesitantly. “Is anything wrong?” she asked.
Dan tied the bleating animal to the porch railing and strode inside.
Nudging her shoulder, Dan whispered, “Don’t get involved. We’re here for a day’s rest; we move out tonight. Whoever this person is or whatever problems he or she is having, we aren’t getting involved. Understand?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she whispered back. “We’re not getting involved.”
It was obvious whoever—or whatever—was lying on that bed did have a problem. The cabin’s state of disarray, the way the individual’s hair looked as if he or she had thrown it in the air and jumped under it—something was wrong, all right.
Dan was right; they couldn’t take on one more person’s troubles. Every hour they tarried just caused more needless worry for John Jacobs.
Hope’s eyes roamed the stale-smelling room. The log home was huge, with massive pieces of hand-hewn furniture crammed about the one enormous room.
“Come closer. Don’t be afraid.”
Hope crept toward the voice, holding tight to Dan’s hand. “Are you ill?”
“Hurt my leg—been praying the Boss would send someone to help.” The figure motioned her nearer. “Don’t be shy; these old eyes cain’t see as good as they once did. Come closer.”
Though Hope would have complied, Dan’s steely grip restrained her. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re just passing through. We saw your cabin and thought we might impose on your hospitality.”
A cackle rent the air, startling Hope. Wide-eyed, she stepped back.
“You’re welcome to anything I have, but you’ll have to fix it!” the voice crowed. “Pete’s sakes—come closer. I cain’t see ya.”
Wrenching free from Dan, Hope approached the bed. The voice sounded friendly enough. And it sure wasn’t Big Joe or Frog trying to trick them. “How long have you been here?” Hope asked.
“Abed? Two days now. I was startin’ to think I was a goner for sure.”
Hope edged nearer, focusing on the lone figure. The dim light revealed an old woman lying abed, her foot propped up on a stained pillow, her snow-white hair in wild confusion.
“Hello,” she said as Hope bent closer. “That’s better. Why, ain’t you a pretty little thing. What brings you clean out this way?”
“Well—”
Dan intervened. “We’re on our way to Medford, ma’am. We’d hoped to be there by now, but we’ve been delayed.”
A pair of faded molasses-colored eyes looked him up and down. “You’re welcome to stay the night with me. Hafta sleep on the floor; the bears are a real bother lately, comin’ around at night looking for food. It won’t be safe to sleep outside or in the barn.”
Hope turned to look at the floor. Would she ever sleep in a real bed again?
Dan nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be moving on tonight.”
“Tonight! Why, land sakes. A body shouldn’t be out there in the dark. You’ll stay the night and strike off early in the mornin’.”
Dan glanced at Hope.
The old woman smiled. She didn’t have a tooth in her mouth. “Glad to have the company. Maybe your wife will take a look at my wound. Tried to clean it myself, but ain’t had no luck.”
“I’d be happy to.” Hope located a bucket near the sink and filled it at the well in back of the house.
Dipping a cup of fresh water from the bucket, Hope held the old woman’s head as she drank thirstily. “Oh, my, that tastes good. I’ve been makin’ my peace with the Boss,” she said, dropping weakly back to the pillow. “Not many folks come this way. I figured I was about to be called home.”
“How did you hurt your leg?” Hope busied herself straightening the rumpled sheets. The bedclothes were a disgrace. They needed a good washing.
“Had a little mishap with the ax.”
“You were chopping wood?”
“Choppin’ at it. Charlie died last fall. Pneumonie fever, I’d say. My husband was a good man; had enough wood laid up for the whole winter. But now it’s gone, and I’m forced to do somethin’ about it.” She lifted the injured leg, chuckling. “At least Charlie left the old ax sharp.”
“Do you have any medicines?” Hope asked. She could cleanse the old woman’s leg and apply salve, then properly care for Dan’s shoulder.
The woman rose up on a frail arm, her eyes on the sling on Dan’s left arm. “Are you feelin’ poorly, son? You’re looking a mite peaked.”
Before Dan could answer, Hope fielded the question. “We’ve been walking for days. I apologize for our appearance. We look a sight. I’m Hope, and this is Dan.”
“Hope, huh? Well, you’re aptly named, young’un. ’Cause that’s sure what you’ve brought me. I’m Letty McGregor. Pleased to meet you. The Boss answered my prayer.”
“The Boss?”
“The Big Man—the Almighty. He’s my boss—” She paused, her razor-sharp eyes pinning Hope. “Ain’t he yours?”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Hope said. “He is.” Papa would have switched her good if she’d ever called the Lord “Boss.” Just didn’t seem proper.
Letty pointed a bony finger at a shelf on the far wall. “See those jars and cups there? They’ve got herbs and such in them. Bring that biggest jar over here and a bowl to mix in.” She glanced at Dan. “Son, would you mind checkin’ on my mules? I fear they’ve not got a drop of water. Haven’t been able to tend them since I got hurt. Might have rained, but I ain’t heard it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’d appreciate that, young fellow. They’ve been faithful mules.”
Hope picked up the big jar of herbs and carried it to the bed, then searched for a bowl in the messy kitchen, jumping back, startled, when her hand encountered a roach.
“You’ve got a mighty good-lookin’ man there,” Letty called. “My Charlie was powerful handsome, too.”
Yes, Dan was powerful handsome. Any woman would be proud to claim him. But he wasn’t hers. “How long were you and Mr. McGregor married?”
“Nigh on to sixty-seven years.” Letty lay back on her pillow, staring at the ceiling. “Come from Missouri, you know. I was helpin’ Papa farm when Charlie comes along lookin’ for work. Papa hired him for room and board and a dollar a month. I was fifteen at the time. The first six dollars Charlie earned, we up and got married.” She shook her head, her lined face pale and drawn. Hope suspected she hadn’t eaten in two days. “Charlie was a fine man, God rest his soul. Buried out back—you’d see his grave if you was to look.”
Hope brought the bowl and a wooden spoon to the bed.
“Take a couple spoonfuls of that powder and add about half as much water.” Letty watched Hope’s movements. “That’s it—now,
mix it up real good until it’s thick as mud.”
Hope wrinkled her nose as the vile smell permeated the area.
Letty chuckled. “Smells like the outhouse, but it works.”
When the mixture met the approval of Letty’s critical eye, the old woman uncovered her left leg.
Hope stepped back, sucking in a deep breath. The wound was bright red with the beginning of infection.
“It looks bad, but the salve will fix it right up. Spread it on the cut; by morning it’ll be workin’ on the poison.”
Dan returned, carrying a few sticks of wood in his good arm. Hope jumped up to help him.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she scolded, taking the bundle from his arms.
“If you’re going to fuss over me, do it by serving me a hot breakfast,” he bantered lightly.
They pitched in and got a roaring fire going in the woodstove. Hope set a kettle of fresh water to boil.
“Bless you young’uns’ hearts.” Letty watched the activity from the bed. “I sure could do with a cup of tea when you get the time.”
“Yes, ma’am, hot tea coming right up.” Hope eyed the sink piled high with dirty dishes. No one was drinking or eating a morsel until she did something about that.
“There’s pork, beef, and deer in the smokehouse, Dan. And there’s a hen or two in the chicken coop. There’s plenty of eggs out there waitin’ to be gathered. You’ll find canned goods in the cellar. Land sakes, this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Letty complained. “Spring comin’ on and I haven’t got nary a potato in the ground. Ain’t even got the soil tilled. Looks like I’m not gonna be able to now.”
“We’ll find everything we need, Mrs. McGregor. You just rest.” Hope moved about the small kitchen, moving quickly to restore cleanliness and order.
“While you’re thinkin’ on breakfast, maybe your man will come sit by me—let me have a look at that shoulder.”
Dan’s eyes darted to the green mass covering Letty’s leg, then back to Hope.
“It ain’t purty to look at, but this stuff’ll fix the problem. Now come over here; let me see why you got that arm in a sling.”
“He was shot.” Hope pushed Dan toward the chair beside Letty’s bed. He sat down, looking as if she’d thrown him before a firing squad.
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