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no answer but the echoing silence of the cabin. Quickly Shannon put away the gift and went about dealing with another gift—Whip’s buck.
Soon the first real meal Shannon had sat down to in months was steaming in front of her. Despite her hunger, she ate carefully, savoring every delicious bite.
The deer was only the beginning of Whip’s gifts.
When Shannon woke up the next morning, she found two burlap bags hanging from a tree limb near the creek. The first bag was full of dried apples, sugar, cinnamon, and lard. The second bag held the supplies she had left behind in Holler Creek, and more besides.
Shannon resisted the temptation for several hours. Then she decided that she could make better use of the supplies than whatever varmint managedto climb the tree and get the bags for itself.
Decision made, Shannon wasted no time in getting an apple pie baking. And biscuits. And bread.
When Shannon went to Cherokee’s cabin to share Whip’s bounty, she sensed that she was being followed. It was like a prickling just under the nape of her neck, a shivery animal awareness that she wasn’t alone.
Yet every time Shannon whirled around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Whip, there was nothing behind her but rocks and trees and a wild highmountain sky.
Nor did Prettyface ever scent Whip the entire way to Cherokee’s cabin.
“Come in, gal,” Cherokee said, opening the door.
“Thank you.”
Shannon wriggled out of the awkward backpack she had made from strips of leather and an ancient saddlebag.
“How is your ankle?”
“Fine as frog’s hair.”
Shannon looked at Cherokee and knew her ankle wasn’t fine.
“That’s good,” Shannon said. “Here, I brought you some food to pay back what you gave me this winter.”
“Now lookee here. It weren’t no loan, so it don’t need no repaying.”
“I’ll hang the venison back in the corner,” Shannon said, ignoring the old woman’s protests. “The rest I’ll put where it belongs in your dry goods cupboard.”
Dumbfounded, Cherokee watched while Shannon suited actions to words.
“That’s fresh venison,” Cherokee said finally.
“Yes.”
“Well I’ll be go-to-hell. You got yourself a deer!”
Shannon said nothing.
“Now, you just take back them bags of flour and sugar,” Cherokee said quickly. “I got plenty to last me till I scratch out more gold or trade some herbs down to Holler Creek.”
Shannon ignored her.
“Apples!” Cherokee said reverently. “Do I smell apples?”
“You sure do. I put half of an apple pie on the back of your stove to warm.”
“Bread. Pie. I will be go-to-hell! You done went back and claimed all your supplies!”
Shannon made a sound that could have meant anything.
“That was a damn fool thing to do,” Cherokee said. “Two of them Culpeppers didn’t have no more than their pride hurt in the fight with Whip. They could have caught you.”
“They didn’t.”
“Still, they—”
“I didn’t go back to Holler Creek,” Shannon interrupted.
Cherokee was silent. Abruptly her seamed face split into a wide, gap-toothed grin.
“It was Whip, by God,” she crowed. “He’s courting you!”
Shannon started to deny it, then decided not to. Cherokee wouldn’t refuse to share in the unexpected bounty of courting gifts from Whip.
But Cherokee might refuse to share in the spoils of attempted seduction.
“Maybe,” Shannon said. “Maybe not.”
“’Course he is. Where’s your mind, gal? He’s got an eye for you. Or did you wear that frippery for him already?”
“I’m married, remember? That’s what everyone is supposed to think, and don’t you forget it.”
“Huh. Wearing a ring didn’t make no marriage. Anyways, you’re widowed.”
“Get off your ankle,” was all Shannon said. “I’ll bring in enough water and wood for several days, because I might not be able to get back beforethen.”
“Going somewheres?”
“Hunting,” Shannon said succinctly.
Cherokee looked puzzled. Then she
Soon the first real meal Shannon had sat down to in months was steaming in front of her. Despite her hunger, she ate carefully, savoring every delicious bite.
The deer was only the beginning of Whip’s gifts.
When Shannon woke up the next morning, she found two burlap bags hanging from a tree limb near the creek. The first bag was full of dried apples, sugar, cinnamon, and lard. The second bag held the supplies she had left behind in Holler Creek, and more besides.
Shannon resisted the temptation for several hours. Then she decided that she could make better use of the supplies than whatever varmint managedto climb the tree and get the bags for itself.
Decision made, Shannon wasted no time in getting an apple pie baking. And biscuits. And bread.
When Shannon went to Cherokee’s cabin to share Whip’s bounty, she sensed that she was being followed. It was like a prickling just under the nape of her neck, a shivery animal awareness that she wasn’t alone.
Yet every time Shannon whirled around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Whip, there was nothing behind her but rocks and trees and a wild highmountain sky.
Nor did Prettyface ever scent Whip the entire way to Cherokee’s cabin.
“Come in, gal,” Cherokee said, opening the door.
“Thank you.”
Shannon wriggled out of the awkward backpack she had made from strips of leather and an ancient saddlebag.
“How is your ankle?”
“Fine as frog’s hair.”
Shannon looked at Cherokee and knew her ankle wasn’t fine.
“That’s good,” Shannon said. “Here, I brought you some food to pay back what you gave me this winter.”
“Now lookee here. It weren’t no loan, so it don’t need no repaying.”
“I’ll hang the venison back in the corner,” Shannon said, ignoring the old woman’s protests. “The rest I’ll put where it belongs in your dry goods cupboard.”
Dumbfounded, Cherokee watched while Shannon suited actions to words.
“That’s fresh venison,” Cherokee said finally.
“Yes.”
“Well I’ll be go-to-hell. You got yourself a deer!”
Shannon said nothing.
“Now, you just take back them bags of flour and sugar,” Cherokee said quickly. “I got plenty to last me till I scratch out more gold or trade some herbs down to Holler Creek.”
Shannon ignored her.
“Apples!” Cherokee said reverently. “Do I smell apples?”
“You sure do. I put half of an apple pie on the back of your stove to warm.”
“Bread. Pie. I will be go-to-hell! You done went back and claimed all your supplies!”
Shannon made a sound that could have meant anything.
“That was a damn fool thing to do,” Cherokee said. “Two of them Culpeppers didn’t have no more than their pride hurt in the fight with Whip. They could have caught you.”
“They didn’t.”
“Still, they—”
“I didn’t go back to Holler Creek,” Shannon interrupted.
Cherokee was silent. Abruptly her seamed face split into a wide, gap-toothed grin.
“It was Whip, by God,” she crowed. “He’s courting you!”
Shannon started to deny it, then decided not to. Cherokee wouldn’t refuse to share in the unexpected bounty of courting gifts from Whip.
But Cherokee might refuse to share in the spoils of attempted seduction.
“Maybe,” Shannon said. “Maybe not.”
“’Course he is. Where’s your mind, gal? He’s got an eye for you. Or did you wear that frippery for him already?”
“I’m married, remember? That’s what everyone is supposed to think, and don’t you forget it.”
“Huh. Wearing a ring didn’t make no marriage. Anyways, you’re widowed.”
“Get off your ankle,” was all Shannon said. “I’ll bring in enough water and wood for several days, because I might not be able to get back beforethen.”
“Going somewheres?”
“Hunting,” Shannon said succinctly.
Cherokee looked puzzled. Then she
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