The Tender Stranger

His trousers were still damp, but usable, and his boots were hot on the inside, curling his toes with the storedup heat from the woodstove. He slapped his hat on with haste and headed out the door, dodging raindrops as he ran for the shelter.

Erin had made a detour to the outhouse, and he met her halfway between the cabin and the shed. His hand took her arm and he held her steady as they trekked through the mud.

The cow was making anxious noises when Quinn pushed the door open, and the horses nickered softly in greeting. The hens were settling in for the night and looked impatiently at the intruders as they entered.

Quinn found the lantern and lit the wick. Erin had already settled herself to milking, obviously able to find the cow without benefit of light. He smiled as he watched her work, grinned as he listened to her softly crooning assurances to the pretty little Jersey.

“For a city girl, you sure caught on fast to taking care of stock, didn’t you?”

She laughed softly. “When it’s a matter of food, you learn or go hungry. I depend on the animals for transportation, eggs, and milk and butter. In turn, I feed and tend to them. Works out pretty well, I’d say.”

“You got your list made up for the general store in town?”

“Pretty much. Flour, sugar, lard and cornmeal are the heavy items. I can’t carry much canned goods, so I’m limited there. A farmer down below will be bringing up feed for my chickens. The young man at the store said he’d try to get up here during the bad months and bring supplies once in a while. I’ll shoot some game for myself.”

“You? Shoot a deer? What would you do with it then?”

She made an impatient noise. “Probably not a deer. Maybe rabbits. There are traps overhead in the cabin, too. One way or another, I’ll survive.”

The thought of her setting a trap sickened him, the image of it closing on her fingers as she struggled to pry the cruel jaws open a harsh picture in his mind. He set it from his thoughts.

“You know how to gut a rabbit?”

“I’ll manage. I watched the cook clean chickens when I was a child. It can’t be much different with a rabbit.”

His admiration for this fragile woman increased. She was not what he had expected while heading across the country with one goal in mind. And now, in one short day, she’d managed to turn his life in another direction.

“Let’s plan on going down to town tomorrow,” Quinn told her. A door at the back of the shed provided a place to pitch the badly soiled wood chips from the stalls and he opened it wide. The pitchfork he found on the wall had a tine missing, but it would do for now, and he bent to with a will.

“All right.” Her words were slow, as if she considered the matter even as she agreed to his plan.

“You want to feed the chickens tonight?” he asked.

“I’ll do it first thing in the morning. They’ve gone to roost already.” She leaned her forehead on the cow’s flank, almost as if she communicated somehow with the animal. A soft lowing met his ears as he watched the two of them, the woman and the animal she tended.

“She’s talking to you,” he said softly.

Her look was distracted, surprised, and she grinned, the first real humor he’d seen. “Of course. We understand each other.”

The hay was tossed to the horses and Daisy, the hens were ignored, and the lantern turned off within minutes. Quinn carried the pail of milk, closing the shed door with one hand, then reaching to grasp Erin’s arm as they headed to the cabin.

The trip to town hung in abeyance for two days. The trail was too wet to travel in safety, Quinn decided, and Erin had to agree.

“I didn’t plan on going down the mountain for at least another week,” she told him after three days of watching him take over her chores, with the exception of milking. He’d shot a pair of rabbits and skinned them out, gutting them at the edge of the woods, then washing them in the creek.

She’d been pleased, frying the small pieces in the skillet and cooking rice atop the stove. “They sure don’t carry a lot of meat on their bones, do they?” she’d said over supper.

“Run it off, probably.”

“Do you think it will snow before long?” she asked, her thoughts darting ahead to the long winter months.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t- already.” He licked his fingers and reached for another piece of meat. “We’re pushing it, waiting till tomorrow to head out.”

“I’ll be ready early,” she told him. “I got out my heavy cloak and a pair of britches I bought to ride in.”

“You’re sure you’ll be all right? Riding, I mean?” His look was dubious.

She glanced up. “Of course I will. I’m healthy.” She forced from her mind the harsh pains she’d suffered through twice since he’d arrived.

“We’ll leave as soon as we take care of the animals.”

She gave him a nod, rising to clear the table and clean up the dishes.

The sky was cloudy, but the mud had dried considerably. Leaves covered parts of the trail and Quinn rode slowly, keeping Erin behind him, lest the mare lose her footing and send her rider tumbling.

“It’s going to take all day to get there if we don’t move faster,” she complained behind him.

“Then we’ll stay there overnight if we have to,” he said patiently. “There’s no way to hurry when you don’t know what’s under the leaves, and the ground is still mushy in spots.”

She subsided, aware of his greater knowledge, and tried for good humor. The jolting when the mare broke into a trot jarred her back and made her bite her lip, but there was no way she would snivel. The least she could do was ride along without complaining.

They gained the edge of town well after noon and spent an hour in the general store. The storekeeper wanted to talk, and Quinn was hard-pressed to be polite. Only the advent of the sheriff bursting in the door to haul the merchant away to help fight a fire on the outskirts of town halted the man’s stream of conversation.

“Do we need to stay and help?” Erin asked, looking over her shoulder at the red blaze in the sky. They rode in the opposite direction, and she felt somehow guilty for leaving while others might be in peril.

“The sheriff said the woman was safe, and it was too late to do anything for her husband. We need to be out of the trees before it gets full dark, Erin. I don’t want to be straggling around looking for the trail at midnight.” His words sounded sensible to her, but the urge to remain and offer aid was strong within her breast.

She subsided, following him down the rutted road, the trail climbing quickly once they passed the last of a long string of houses. “The farther from the middle of town we go, the shabbier the houses get, Quinn. Did you notice?” she asked.

“Folks out here can’t afford much,” he said. “They need room for a garden. Most of them can’t get everything store-bought.”

Just beyond the last dwelling, a woman dug determinedly beside her home, and Erin slowed down. “Do you think she’d have any extra potatoes? I’ll bet that’s what she’s digging.”

Quinn pulled his horse up, the packhorse halting behind him. “Could be. You want some?”

She nodded. “I’m almost out. I’ve been pretty stingy with them. They weigh too much to carry.”

“My horse can handle them,” Quinn offered, riding to the side of the fenced-in area that held a small house where several children played near the doorway.

He paid rather more than Erin thought the potatoes were worth, but the woman looked surprised and pleased at her good fortune as she provided a sack to contain them, and Erin didn’t have the heart to scold Quinn for his generosity. She smiled a last time at the bedraggled creature, waving at the children, before she turned forward to follow his lead.

The trees enclosed them in a cocoon of stillness, the wind muted by the tall trees and dense undergrowth. They rode for hours, mostly in silence, Quinn holding up a hand once as Erin would have spoken to him.

And then she understood as he slid his rifle from the scabbard and motioned again with a finger against his lips. Just ahead, a buck deer stood in the middle of the trail, its spike horn antlers proudly angled. She almost called out, dreading the sight of the elegant creature lying on the ground, its life’s blood draining.

Her good sense prevailed and she only winced as Quinn’s shot went home, downing the buck without any flurry. He keeled over as if he’d been struck on the head, and Quinn was off his horse in an instant, looping his reins over a branch.

“This won’t take long,” he assured her. “I’ll just gut it out and hang it. I can come back in the morning and haul it to the cabin.” Taking off his coat, he hooked it on the saddle horn and drew his knife.