Read Online A Shelter of Hope by Tracie Peterson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tracie Peterson
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someone was bound to question her arrival. What should she say? What kind of story could she make up that would sound believable? She’d tell them that her parents were dead. As far as she was concerned, that much was true. But how could she explain her sudden appearance in their town? She didn’t even know where she was, much less a reason for coming to this particular place.
With a heavy sigh, Simone watched her breath turn to steam in the chilled morning air. She simply wouldn’t answer their questions. She’d tell them only what she had to and leave it at that. She’d attempt to sell the pelts and see if someone would sell her some basic supplies, then she’d get out of there on the double. Towns meant lawmen—or at least citizens—who sought to uphold some form of justice and order. She remembered her mother telling her that much. She couldn’t stay there and hope to keep her identity a secret for long. Sooner or later, someone would find Garvey Davis’s lifeless body, and then they’d come after her.
These thoughts consumed Simone while the horse moved ever closer to the town. She could now make out several plumes of smoke, as well as the outline of multiple structures. Here in the valley, the snow lay in sporadic clumps, giving the land a patchwork appearance. Dry needle grass was interlaced with delicate shoots of green, suggesting that a false thaw had come several weeks earlier to this portion of the territory. Of course, the past winter had been nothing compared to the winter of ’86. Simone remembered the heavy snows and bitter cold. Many folks had suffered, or so she’d been told. However, she hadn’t suffered—not overmuch. In fact, Simone remembered the time as rather pleasant. Her father had been caught unaware when a blizzard had come upon him, and he had to take refuge for several weeks in Uniontown. This winter, though irritatingly slow in its departure, had been very mild in comparison. The sun once again broke through the clouds and beamed down upon her. How wonderful it felt! Perhaps spring really would come.
The warmth invigorated Simone. She urged the horse to pick up his pace, knowing he had to be near collapse. They would make it. She could see that now. But whether she could hold her own and manage to keep from being further harmed was another question.
Remembering her appearance, Simone reached up a hand and untied the rawhide strips that held the rabbit pelt to her head. She tucked the pelt inside her coat, where the other two were doing a remarkable job of keeping her upper body warm. There seemed little hope of making herself look presentable, but Simone fretted over the idea anyway. It wasn’t that she cared much for her looks or for making much ado over her appearance, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.
She laughed, and the sound came out hollow and without feeling. “As if a stranger—a woman alone, no less—coming down from the mountains won’t create its own scandal.”
The horse whinnied as if to agree. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him in reply. “I have no other choice. We have no other choice.”
SEVEN
THE CRUDE SIGN at the edge of town had seen better days. Simone tilted her head first one way and then the other, as if this would help her to get a better look at the ancient letters on the beaten and faded sign. She could only suppose the sign represented the name of the strange little gathering of businesses and homes. She studied the collection, disappointed to find it so small, but nevertheless grateful to have found any form of civilization. Somewhere a dog barked, and Simone found she could recognize a mixture of sounds that represented hope to her. The clanging of an anvil, the lowing of cattle—all manner of sounds that meant people occupied the tiny dwellings. If only she could find someone willing to help her by buying the furs. That would be the real trick. She needed money to help her on her way. Wherever that
With a heavy sigh, Simone watched her breath turn to steam in the chilled morning air. She simply wouldn’t answer their questions. She’d tell them only what she had to and leave it at that. She’d attempt to sell the pelts and see if someone would sell her some basic supplies, then she’d get out of there on the double. Towns meant lawmen—or at least citizens—who sought to uphold some form of justice and order. She remembered her mother telling her that much. She couldn’t stay there and hope to keep her identity a secret for long. Sooner or later, someone would find Garvey Davis’s lifeless body, and then they’d come after her.
These thoughts consumed Simone while the horse moved ever closer to the town. She could now make out several plumes of smoke, as well as the outline of multiple structures. Here in the valley, the snow lay in sporadic clumps, giving the land a patchwork appearance. Dry needle grass was interlaced with delicate shoots of green, suggesting that a false thaw had come several weeks earlier to this portion of the territory. Of course, the past winter had been nothing compared to the winter of ’86. Simone remembered the heavy snows and bitter cold. Many folks had suffered, or so she’d been told. However, she hadn’t suffered—not overmuch. In fact, Simone remembered the time as rather pleasant. Her father had been caught unaware when a blizzard had come upon him, and he had to take refuge for several weeks in Uniontown. This winter, though irritatingly slow in its departure, had been very mild in comparison. The sun once again broke through the clouds and beamed down upon her. How wonderful it felt! Perhaps spring really would come.
The warmth invigorated Simone. She urged the horse to pick up his pace, knowing he had to be near collapse. They would make it. She could see that now. But whether she could hold her own and manage to keep from being further harmed was another question.
Remembering her appearance, Simone reached up a hand and untied the rawhide strips that held the rabbit pelt to her head. She tucked the pelt inside her coat, where the other two were doing a remarkable job of keeping her upper body warm. There seemed little hope of making herself look presentable, but Simone fretted over the idea anyway. It wasn’t that she cared much for her looks or for making much ado over her appearance, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.
She laughed, and the sound came out hollow and without feeling. “As if a stranger—a woman alone, no less—coming down from the mountains won’t create its own scandal.”
The horse whinnied as if to agree. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him in reply. “I have no other choice. We have no other choice.”
SEVEN
THE CRUDE SIGN at the edge of town had seen better days. Simone tilted her head first one way and then the other, as if this would help her to get a better look at the ancient letters on the beaten and faded sign. She could only suppose the sign represented the name of the strange little gathering of businesses and homes. She studied the collection, disappointed to find it so small, but nevertheless grateful to have found any form of civilization. Somewhere a dog barked, and Simone found she could recognize a mixture of sounds that represented hope to her. The clanging of an anvil, the lowing of cattle—all manner of sounds that meant people occupied the tiny dwellings. If only she could find someone willing to help her by buying the furs. That would be the real trick. She needed money to help her on her way. Wherever that
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