It had been a long ride from Santa Fe, and still he was four days of hard riding north of town. His body ached from the constant jogging in the saddle. It had been a long time since he'd ridden a trail this long, but the delivery Judge Travis had sent him on had been urgent. With the task complete, he'd taken it easier on his return trip, but the damage had already been done -- his muscles burned and his joints groaned. A day's rest somewhere was what he really needed, but the thought of an extra night on the hard ground made one day less in the saddle the more desirable option.As he crested the ridge, he pulled Peso to a halt, standing up in the stirrups to stretch and survey the land around him. The green of summer was fading, replaced by the drying of the range grasses, which would turn to a brittle yellow in two month's time as what passed for autumn crept slowly across the southern regions of the country.
In the distance, Vin thought he could see the river, the one which he would follow for another two days before it meandered east, away from his final destination. A bath, though, might be worth the hour delay, he thought as he pressed Peso forward once more.
But as they descended the small hill, the tracker caught sight of what looked like another horse in the distance. Again, he pulled Peso up, then removed his spyglass from his saddle bag, extending the polished brass before placing it to his eye. It was a dark horse with a white race and snip on its face, carrying a single rider. Vin continued to watch for a moment, knowing it always best to be cautious of strangers.
The rider reached up to sweep off the large-brimmed hat, causing a cascade of dark brown curls to fall down the woman's back as she wiped her arm across her brow. Then, near a lone, craggy oak, she dismounted.
Vin continued to watch as she hooked the chin-tie of her hat over the pommel, then untied a round of rope from the saddle. Vin briefly swept his glass left and then right across the range, but there were no cattle present, no stray calves to be roped in. He returned his gaze to the woman, but with her back turned, he could not guess what she might be doing.
"Turn around," Vin said softly to himself, though he didn't wonder why he was so curious to see her face. Then, as if she had heard his request, she turned and looked in his direction, but a moment later, she raised her hand up to shield her eyes before turning away again. The sun was at Vin's back, and he knew that the glare had prevented her from seeing him on the hillside. It was an old tracker's trick, though it had been mere happenstance this day.
He then watched as the woman took the rope and moved under the oak tree; she drew her one hand back, then tossed the end of the rope up into the air. It fell back, and she side-stepped to avoid being hit. She picked up the wayward end and tossed it again. This time, it looped over the branch and slipped back to dangle just slightly more than an arm's length above her head. She jumped and retrieved the end, then used it to pull more rope over the branch.
She then pulled the excess rope over to the trunk and tied it around the girth. Vin wondered what she was doing. Seemed an odd thing that she would make a rope swing so far from the river, so far from anything. Curious, he shifted his spyglass up, along the length of cord, noting that where it hung over the tree branch, it was actually nestled in the fork between two rather large limbs, preventing it from sliding inward towards the trunk. He then followed the rope down to the noose which hung a good seven or eight feet above the ground.
"God, not a noose!" He no longer had to wonder at what she was doing -- the air around him seemed to scream the horror into his ears.
He spurred Peso hard down the hill, not wasting a single moment, even to tuck his precious telescope safely back in his saddle bag. He rode straight for the girl, prodding Peso with his spurs and whipping his sides with the loose ends of the reins, not allowing the horse a moment to protest the sudden abuse, hoping the animal would forgive him afterwards.
As they sped closer, Vin watched as the woman mounted up, nudging her horse forward under the tree to retrieve the noose end of the rope which she then slipped around her neck. Vin saw her bow her head -- was she praying? he wondered. What the hell was she doing?!
Vin knew then that he wouldn't reach her in time and he had little faith that yelling at her would do anything but cause her to spur her horse forward into the terrible action she was contemplating. So, he forced Peso to a quick stop, pulled his rifle from its scabbard alongside his saddle, checked the load, cocked it, then brought the butt up against his shoulder.
He trained his right eye down the length of the long barrel, past the far sight. He opened his eye a little wider as his target came into focus, then he squeezed the trigger.
A moment later, the woman's horse was galloping off riderless as she lay sprawled on the ground behind it.
Vin quickly sheathed his rifle, then urged Peso forward until they reached the tree. He dismounted, nearly stumbling in his haste, then dashed to the woman's side. He feared the fall, and not the rope she'd intended to hang herself with, had caused her death -- the death he'd tried so hard to prevent. But, when he reached her, Vin saw that she was alive, merely lying there with her arms flung out to the sides, staring with the most lovely hazel eyes up into the canopy of the oak above her.
Vin leaned over, blocking her view, which caused her to blink, then frown as anger began to harden her soft features.
"Ya shot at me!"
"I shot the rope," he corrected her.
"Ya coulda killed me!"
"Ya coulda killed yerself," again he corrected her.
She then pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking off Vin's offered hand of assistance. "And what business is it of yers?"
"Reckon it ain't. Just figured it's too nice a day fer a hangin'," he replied, trying to keep the conversation casual, despite his own discomfort with the subject. He briefly put a hand to his throat, but he'd had a noose forced around his own neck too many times to be able to rub away the phantom feeling.
She struggled back to her feet, tossing off the now-useless rope before brushing the dirt and stray plant material from her clothes. "That's yer opinion."
"S'pose it is," he said again, completely baffled by this woman, this young woman, who couldn't be more than nineteen, maybe, or twenty. "Care ta tell me why ya disagree?"
"Whatda you care," she said, though it wasn't a question. She then turned away and started walking in the direction her horse had run off.
Vin watched her go for a moment, then went back to Peso and mounted up. He nudged the horse around and walked him after the girl. When he reached her side, he glanced down at the top of her head, at her hair which still contained a few small, brown leaves. She kept walking, ignoring his presence.
"Be faster retrievin' yer horse if I give ya a ride," he offered.
She looked up at him without slowing her stiff, determined pace.
"It's the least I kin do fer ya," he added.
She then stopped and he pulled Peso up, then reached down with his hand to help haul her into the saddle behind him. She slipped her hands around Vin's waist, then said, "And ya owe me a rope."
Vin just nodded as he caught sight of the brown horse off in the distance, near the river he'd been originally heading toward. With a gentle pressure to Peso's ribs, they moved forward at a leisurely walk.
Vin knew he should talk to this girl, find out what was so bad that she wanted to end it all, but, so far, she hadn't acted much like wanting to talk to him.
"So, ya got a name?" he finally said.
"Yup."
"Mine's Vin," he added, foregoing the formalities, when she said no more.
"Meghan," she finally said, quietly, not far from his ear, though she was not leaning against him.
"Pleased to meet ya, Meghan," he said, but she had again fallen silent.
When they reached the edge of the river, he assisted her from the saddle, then swung down himself. He tied Peso off near the water so the horse could refresh himself, then he trotted downstream a few yards and retrieved Meghan's gelding.
"He's a beautiful animal," the tracker said when he returned to the girl who was now sitting on a large rock staring across the water. He stood near her, waiting for her to say something.
"Ya want him?" Meghan asked without looking up at him.
"No. He's yers."
"Ain't got no use fer him now. Not without a rope," she said, with no emotion to her tone, which only served to rile Vin.
He moved quickly, kneeling before her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her -- as if trying to rouse a deep sleeper from a troubling nightmare. "Stop that talk," he ordered, but she merely shrugged her shoulders.
"Whatda ya wanna go an kill yerself for anyway?"
Finally she looked at him, stared him straight in the eyes, for a long time, before finally saying, "Yer eyes are the same color as the sky." Then she pointed over his shoulder at a patch of blue just above the horizon. He turned to look where she was pointing and she used the opportunity to shove him onto his ass.
Meghan then got up and made a dash for her horse. She mounted up quick, then spurred the animal south along the river bank.
"Hell. Girl's got too much spirit ta end it all," Vin muttered to himself as he pulled Peso's reins free, mounted, then urged the horse after her.
Though the horses were well matched, Vin was the more experienced rider and he quickly caught up to Meghan; as he pulled just slightly ahead, Vin reached over to grab the girl's reins, but at the last moment, probably once she realized she couldn't outrun him, she tried to out-maneuver him.
She pulled her horse right just as Vin's fingers touched the leather reins; as he felt them slip away, he reached further out, but his already tired leg muscles couldn't hold him and he tumbled from the saddle.
He didn't remember actually falling, just suddenly being on the ground, face down with bits of wild grass poking him in the face.
A few moments later, he heard from somewhere close behind him, "Vin! Ya okay?! Vin!"
Finally he managed to groan, trying to rise, but his muscles protested loudly. He groaned again, then felt Meghan's hands on him, trying to help him up. The two of them together managed only to roll him over, then up into a sitting position.
Meghan moved in front of him, taking a kerchief from her pocket and dabbing at something on his cheek which screamed in pain at her touch. She pulled the white fabric away and Vin saw the tinges of red -- he was bleeding, though he didn't think it could be more than a scrape.
"Ya hurt anywhere else?" she asked, staring into his eyes for the second time since they'd met, only this time there was emotion behind them -- concern, for him. Vin stared back, noticing the complex colors which made up the hazel of her eyes: black pupils, small in the bright afternoon sunlight, surrounded by a deep brown, like rich wood, which radiated out into a resplendent green -- reminding him of the roots of a walnut tree delving into a thick, well-tended lawn, like on the big estates he'd seen the one time he'd visited Denver, Colorado.
"Huh?"
"Ya hurt? Ya hit yer head?" she said to him slowly.
Vin shook, no, but that made a pain shoot right up his neck, bursting into a bright flash behind his eyes. "Sore, is all. I think," he finally managed to tell her. She put a hand on him to help him to his feet, but he stopped her. "Just let me sit here a spell."
She nodded. "I'll git yer horse while ya rest," she told him and she headed back to her mount.
Vin thought for a moment that she'd take the opportunity to leave -- she'd been so desperate to get away from him before and now he'd be unable to follow her, at least for a while -- so he was surprised when she returned minutes later with both her horse and his in tow. She handed him the canteen which had hung on his saddle and he took a slow pull. He then handed the container back and watched as she drank some herself. Wouldn'ta needed ta bring one of her own, Vin reminded himself.
Finally, she reached down, offering a hand to pull him back to his feet, but instead he pulled her down to the ground, to sit across from him. The pair stared at each other for a long while. Vin noticed how the sun shown through waves, almost ringlets, of hair to reveal a gradient of color from almost black to a coppery red.
"They really are blue as the sky," she said, breaking the silence. "Yer eyes. Never imagined they came in that color. My pa's were sort of a pale color, all washed out."
"Were?" Vin asked, thinking maybe he'd find out what he wanted to know after all.
She nodded. "He died. Last winter. It was terrible, and there weren't nothin' I could do fer him."
"Ya send for a doctor?" Vin casually asked, watching as she plucked a stalk of wild rye from the earth and began to play with it between her fingers.
"Ain't none nearby. And I couldn't leave him long enough ta fetch one, not that he'da let me."
Vin nodded. "My ma died when I was small. Never felt so helpless in my life."
Now it was Meghan's turn to nod. "'Cept, no one prob'ly expected ya ta do anythin'. Weren't no one ta worry over him but me."
Vin reached out and placed a hand on hers; the unexpected contact caused her to drop the stalk of rye into her lap, forgotten. She continued to stare at him -- her expression, though not blank, was unreadable to the tracker. Finally, she let her eyes drop to the half-foot of space which separated them.
"What about yer ma?" he asked quietly.
"Dead. Years now. Just wasted away. So much pain, fer so long -- months. I ..." but her voice trailed off and eventually she moved her hand away from Vin's, retrieving the errant bit of grass.
Vin didn't know what to say to her. Words of sympathy rarely helped so long after a death, especially coming from a stranger. He'd never said the words to Chris about his family, though the man seemed to know Vin felt for him: his loss, his pain, the guilt he still carried. But it wasn't something that had passed between them the first time they met. It was months of working side by side, of tracking the man who'd done the deed, trying to find evidence of the one who'd hired the killer. Small efforts of support, each adding to the last, until a look was all the sympathy Vin needed to offer, and Vin knew it meant more to Chris than all the words the world could have said to him.
"Help me up?" he asked after a while.
Meghan stood, then offered her hand, but Vin was slow to move. His muscle protesting the use after the abuse they'd taken. He stumbled slightly when he finally got to his feet, feeling a bit light-headed, and she steadied him with both her arms. He wasn't sure he could remain standing unassisted, so he clung to her and she didn't protest.
Slipping an arm around his waist, she helped him over to his horse. "Ya sure ya kin ride?"
"No. But, I don't s'pose we can sit here all day."
"I don't have no other plans," she reminded him.
"Prob'ly got chores need doin'," he continued, but she shrugged. "And I oughta be gettin' back."
"Back where?"
"This town a few days south of here."
"A few days? You'll be lucky if ya make it an hour in that saddle, let alone a few days," she warned him, gripping him a bit tighter about the middle when he stumbled again.
"Reckon I could just stay here 'til I'm better then. Not a bad place to rest up," he said gazing around at the expanse of range bisected by the wide, clear water of the river.
"All alone?"
Vin nodded, noting the pain wasn't nearly as bad in his head now as it had been earlier. "Ain't a bad thing, bein' on yer own," he told her and meant it. Until he'd taken up with Chris and the others, there hadn't been anyone to wonder after him. He turned his head to look over at her, but as he did so, a wave of vertigo washed over him and he fell against her.
"Whoa," she breathed as she tried to control their fall to the ground, but she landed on her butt and he landed sprawled across her lap anyway. "Somehow," she began, trying to catch her breath again, "bein' on yer own don't seem like such a wise thing right now."
"Ya think?" he asked, a smile touching his lips as he rolled off of her to lay on his back.
"Yup, I think," she replied, though no smile dared grace her sad features. "I also think ya oughta bunk down in my barn ta-night."
"Don't wanna trouble ya," Vin said, reaching out an arm to brush some stray grass from her pant leg, letting his hand linger on the cotton fabric, then gently tracing the tight weave with one fingertip.
"Hay's already there. Ain't no trouble lettin' ya rest yer head on it."
"Thanks," he said, but was then surprised when she shook her head.
"It's my fault yer hurt -- not that ya shoulda been interferin' in the first place, mind."
"Well, I'm grateful just the same. Fall or no, another four days in that saddle wasn't somethin' I was really lookin' forward to," he told her in all honesty. And a night on some hay was far superior to another night on the hard ground, no matter how pretty the stars above, he told himself.
"So, what's waitin' in that town of yers?" she asked after another long silence between them. "Some land? Family, maybe?"
Vin shook his head, though slowly, not wanting to do anything to cause another dizzy spell. "Ain't got none of those things. Told ya I didn't mind bein' alone. But I got a few friends there. And a job helpin' protect the town folk."
"That's why ya did that -- stopped me -- outta some bad habit?"
"Ain't a bad habit savin' people's lives, Meghan. Some people appreciate it. Why don't you?" But all this out burst by Vin accomplished was the girl dropping her gaze to the ground again. Still, he was too frustrated by not understanding and too addled from his fall to stop himself from continuing. "What's so bad ya can't face another day?" He waited for her answer, but when none came, he tugged on the material of her pant leg which was still beneath his hand. "If it's that bad, ya oughta be able ta find the words. Meghan?"
"Ain't one thing. Ain't like nothin' went right this mornin'. It's more 'an that."
"Then explain it ta me," he insisted, daring to roll onto his side and prop himself up on his elbow to better concentrate on what she might tell him.
She sighed, putting her hands to the ground behind her and leaning back on them. "I don't wanna wait around and die like my ma and pa did: lingerin' and painful. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothin'. 'Cept, I'm guessin' both yer ma and pa were a heckava lot older than you when they finally fell sick."
"But I don't wanna wait that long. I'm done now."
"Done? Like, there ain't nothin' else ya wanna do? Nothin' ya wanna see?"
"Right. Nothin'."
"What about the ocean? Ever seen that?"
"No. But, it's just water like in that river over there," she countered with a shrug.
"San Francisco or New York?"
"Just big ol' towns with too many people in 'em. What about you? Ya desperate ta see France or China fer ya die?"
"Never much thought about it. Seems like there's plenty ta keep me interested right here, least fer now."
"Well, I'm not interested, in any of it. Not now, never have been, and I don't see why that'd ever change. And I don't see why ya care."
"Just seems such a waste, a pretty girl like you not wantin' ta see another sunset, another night fulla stars, another dawn." Vin reached out and plucked a small yellow flower from amongst the grasses and handed it to Meghan, her fingers touching his hand as she took the bloom from him. "Another flower. Just seems like maybe if ya looked, ya might find somethin' worth stayin' around for."
She twirled the flower stalk between her fingers, her eyes intently watching the soothingly rhythmic motion. Finally she said, "I'm just tired of waitin' fer things ta git better."
"Then why wait? Why not go lookin'?"
"'Cuz I ain't you. This world don't cotton to a girl strikin' out on her own. And I don't relish the day some man tries ta force me back in my place. I'm just lucky ain't no one 'til you has crossed my path way out here."
"But yer not afraid I'm gonna hurt ya."
"Ya saved me. Don't seem likely a man'd do that just ta turn 'round and hurt me."
"Can't speak fer no one else, but yer right about me."
"Can't rightly see ya even hurtin' a rabbit," she told him, though it was a phrase that should have come with a teasing grin.
"That's just my way," he began to quietly tell her, allowing the smile that should have been hers to grace his own lips. "See, I lay here, real still, like this, and wait for them rabbits ta come nosin' 'round, sniffin' for the carrots I save for my horse, then when they're close, I wait ... until just ... the right ... moment ... then...."
"AH!" Meghan screamed as Vin suddenly lunged forward and captured her ankle between his hands, as if it were the neck of a rabbit. She nearly jumped out of her skin, but then Vin began to laugh and she couldn't stop herself from joining him. She tried to playfully push his hands away, but he grabbed her wrists and pulled her down on top of him.
Suddenly, they both stopped laughing. Meghan stared down into his eyes, as if transfixed by the sun moving across the afternoon sky. Vin stared into hers, lost in the vast landscape they contained.
It was wrong, he knew. A gentleman would never treat a lady so shabbily, but then, he was no gentleman, as Ezra seemed to constantly remind him. But neither was he a rogue to take advantage of the girl's misfortune; to force himself upon her would only confirm her view of a world not worth living in.
So, he eased her back to the ground, releasing her hands. Then he slowly sat up, intent upon mounting his horse and going ... where? Back to her barn to spend the night? He didn't know if that was such a good idea anymore.
She stood up, then helped him again to his feet. He was steadier this time and decided he'd see how he was feeling when they reached her home before thinking again on where he would spend the night.
Soon they were in their saddles and easing their horses along the banks of the meandering river. And it wasn't long before Meghan lead them off to the west, down a barely visible trail which ended at a small house with a barn to one side and a large, empty corral behind.
"Ya raise horses?" Vin asked, the spread reminding him of Chris's old ranch, where he'd bred and raised the animals.
Meghan shook her head. "My pa did, but I sold 'em all, 'cept Quinn here." She patted her horse on its neck. "Still, it weren't enough money."
"Enough for what?"
"Ta pay off the bank. Don't know what my pa did with all the money he'd made over the years -- seemed he'd always sold all the horses he raised, and there were some fine ones -- but the bank says we owe 'em and there ain't no way I've ever seen as much money as they're askin' fer," she explained as she dismounted, then came around to hold his horse, or maybe just to be near him in case he was still unsteady on his feet.
Vin's knees threatened to buckle when he first planted his feet, but he steadied himself against the saddle for a moment and finally found his balance. Meghan looped the reins over the hitching rail before helping Vin up the three short steps and onto the front porch to a bench which sat under a good-sized window divided up into lots of small panes of glass.
She then took the horses to the barn.
It worried Vin to have her out of his sight. He didn't trust her not to make another attempt on her life and he'd thoughtlessly left his still-loaded rifle sheathed against his saddle. He forced himself back to his feet and slowly made his way towards the barn, stopping only once when his head began to swim from the effort. At the corral, he was able to use the railings to steady himself until he reached the barn.
Meghan had left the door partially open and he slipped in without having to ease it any wider, making no noise as he entered the large, poorly lit space. Vin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, reopening them to help adjust his eyes quicker, then he looked around, finally finding Meghan towards the back of the barn, methodically brushing down her gelding.
As he approached, he noted that she'd already unsaddled both horses and stored the tack, leaving his saddle bags and rifle leaning against the closed, rear door of the barn. He was relieved that she hadn't taken the opportunity, the second one she'd passed up that day. Maybe this meant she might not try again -- sometimes coming close to dying is enough to make one appreciate life, or at least not want to throw it away so quickly.
He decided then that he would stay the night here. If he'd helped her come this far, maybe there was more he could do.
"Vin!" she looked up, startled.
"Sorry. Just, ah, come ta git my gun. I think if I sit real still, my aim'll be good enough ta catch us some dinner." She nodded, pointing to where she had laid his things. But instead of retrieving his rifle, he pulled a brush from his saddlebag, then moved to Peso to begin brushing him down.
Meghan made her way around to the other side of her horse, still grooming him, but now Vin could see her face as she did so and he saw that she was watching him from under her wind-blown bangs. He forced his attention onto his horse, but soon found his gaze wandering back to the girl, following the movement of her white hands over the dark brown of her horse's hide. She was so graceful for someone raised out in the wilderness of this territory -- he expected such fluid movements of Mary Travis, who'd been raised well-off, somewhere in the east, and even had the benefit of advanced schooling, but this girl, from what he'd gathered hadn't been exposed to much which would have taught her to move like she did.
"Were ya born out here?" he finally had to ask.
She nodded. "In that very house. My folks come west years before."
"Where were they from?"
"Richmond, I think, in Virginia. They didn't talk much 'bout it. I think my ma's family mighta been rich, though -- she always seemed ta talk nicer than anyone I've ever met. She just didn't seem ta be made fer life out here, ya know? But she never complained and did all that my pa needed her ta do."
Vin nodded, finding that he liked the sound of her voice as it softly echoed through the large, nearly empty barn.
"Used ta think that maybe her parents didn't approve of my pa, that they'd run off ta be ta-gether."
"We they real in love?"
Meghan shrugged. "Didn't ever say so in fronta me if they were. And when she died, well ... Pa seemed more upset at havin' the burden of me than he was just 'cuz he missed her."
"I can't believe he thought ya a burden, Meghan," Vin proclaimed. "Just, sometimes, people -- men-folk 'specially -- have a hard time when they lose someone they love. Sometimes it's just easier ta be angry than sad."
Meghan shrugged again. And Vin felt bad. He was making excuses for a man he didn't know, for a man, it seemed, who had hurt this girl, whether he'd meant to or not.
"Can't believe ya woulda turned back ta help me when I'd fallen from my horse if ya weren't a kind person, Meghan. And kind people don't come from parents that don't love 'em, even if they're never told the words," he tried to explain. But, as he saw tears well up in her eyes, he wasn't sure if he'd done a good enough job.
He slipped under Peso's neck, then under Quinn's, catching her up in his arms and hugging her to him, despite the ache it caused his trail-sore muscles. Seeing her cry, made his heart ache far worse and that pain he hoped to soothe along with her own.
The tears which dampened his shoulder were quiet ones, though he could feel her body shake from the effort. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her closer, hoping the calm of his body would quiet hers. Then he very gently began to sway.
Soon her breathing slowed and her shaking subsided. Until, finally, she pulled back, using the back of her hand to wipe away the glistening residue from her cheeks. She nodded what Vin assumed was thanks, then stepped too far back for his hands to remain around her.
"Best git huntin' fer that supper, fer the light fades on ya," she managed, though her voice had lost its quiet lilt and now sounded raw, strained. Vin nodded, moving to retrieve his rifle. "I'll finish the horses," she added.
As the tracker exited the barn, he didn't feel quite as uneasy about leaving Meghan alone. She'd made such progress in the hours since he'd first laid eyes on her. From being so cold and disconnected to a laugh and now tears. She was allowing herself to feel again, and, he hoped, that meant she would start allowing herself to live again.
There was a small outcropping a good distance behind the house and Vin entered the underbrush as quietly as he could. He quickly found a good place to plant himself, then he waited.
He was quite surprised when a young buck came into view, he took aim across his sight, but did not touch the trigger. Vin wasn't sure why, but he suddenly knew that much venison would go to waste here, though there was no accompanying feeling of dread to make him fear the thought.
He waited a while longer and had his patience rewarded by the appearance of two jack rabbits. He knew he wouldn't be able to hit both, but one would do him and Meghan for a single meal. He took aim, then careful squeezed the trigger, dropping the one hare while scaring the other back into hiding.
Retrieving the meal, he made his way back to the house and found Meghan outside in a small fenced-in area. Vin assumed it was a garden, though there wasn't much to it -- it didn't look like the woman had bothered to plant it that spring, so what little had grown was from whatever had gone to seed last fall.
Still, the basket she carried contained a few potatoes, some small carrots, and, surprisingly, one fairly large, ruby-red tomato. Vin couldn't remember the last time he'd seen one of those.
Without exchanging a word, the pair went into the house. It was Vin's first look inside and he was surprised. He knew it was no mansion judging by the exterior, but the interior was more run down than he'd figured. And dustier and more cluttered than he knew most women would allow a house to get. He got the feeling that once her father died, once there was no one to keep house for, she'd lost interest in it, just as she'd lost interest in living her life. He imagined the place was a pretty good reflection of how she'd felt that morning as she'd been preparing the rope.
"If'n you'll cook, I'll see 'bout cleanin' up a bit," he offered.
"Ain't no point if the bank's just gonna come take it all away."
"Then I'll just clean up enough what might be needed 'til then. 'Sides, I can't cook 'cept over an open fire," he grinned and she made an effort to return it. Then she scrounged around and found a bucket and some rags which she handed over to him, saying, "Ain't never thought a man would lift a hand ta clean a house."
"I'm sure I ain't the only one in the world," he replied, still smiling at her.
"Pa said it was women's work."
"Don't seem right me just sittin' here lettin' ya do everythin'."
"That's what he did." She shrugged, then moved to stoke the fire in the stove, inadvertently brushing against him as she passed.
As he headed outside, Meghan handed Vin a large pot, which he filled, along with the bucket, from the water pump. He returned, setting the full pot on the stove, before turning his attention to the table where she'd set down the vegetables. He soaked the rags, then decided for this he needed something more, so he looked about until he came upon a sliver of soap. He then scrubbed down the wooden table top, finishing just as Meghan returned with a basket containing small pieces of wood, which she tossed into the belly of the stove.
She then set to work skinning the rabbit as Vin moved on to dusting off the chairs they'd use. That done, he looked around for what else might be helpful to clean, finally catching a glance into the back room which contained a single bed, with a rough-hewn wood frame and a worn cotton-tick mattress. He stripped the linens from the bed, then opened the window to pass the mattress part way out. Grabbing the quilt from where he had deposited it on top of the old linens on the floor, he then returned to the kitchen, glancing at Meghan, noting both her disposition and her progress with the meal, before heading outside.
There, he flung the quilt over the wash line, grabbed the slotted wooden paddle which was hanging from a nail on the far post and began to beat the fabric. He then moved on to beating the much thicker mattress. The effort did nothing to ease the ache in his shoulders, but he figured Meghan might feel better if she could sleep the night on a soft, clean mattress.
When he was finally satisfied with his work, he pulled the mattress completely out of the window, struggling a bit with the awkward size and weight, then turned it around and began beating the other half.
He was thoroughly exhausted and completely hungry from the exercise by the time Meghan finally called him in to eat. He left the mattress hanging out, intending to complete the job once they'd finished eating. He just hoped there were clean sheets somewhere in the house to go with the refreshed mattress.
"That smells ... oh! Wonderful," he breathed as he sat down opposite his hostess, who had graced the table with a single candle whose light illuminated two plates heaped with pan-fried rabbit, carrots, and boiled potatoes.
The contents of his plate was so tempting, he could hardly restrain himself from tearing right in, but he waited for Meghan, not wanting to offend her if she kept her own traditions, but once she sat down, she picked up her fork and speared a piece of meat. Vin immediately did the same, then nearly moaned out loud when the savory flesh met his tongue. He couldn't remember tasting anything so delicious in a long time. Then again, maybe it was just everything that had happened that day. Maybe Vin was appreciating life, and everything in it, just a little more than he had that morning.
Continued
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