Tucker caught an abundance of fish today.”
“I brung my appetite with me. I could eat the legs off a runnin’ skunk.” Abrams smacked Ian on the shoulder. “Betcha you’re starvin’ after walking all this way.”
Until he’d seen the lean-to, Ian had felt ravenous. But his appetite had disappeared. Just before he said so, he looked at Mrs. Smith. Miss Smith, he thought as he got a closer look at her abundant brown hair and warm hazel eyes. Her features were finer and softer than Tucker’s, but there could be no mistaking the truth. They weren’t man and wife—they were brother and sister.
“Are you hungry, Mr. Rafferty?” Her glance darted to the lean-to and back.
Ian suddenly remembered his manners and whisked off his hat. He didn’t want to lie, so he settled on the only truth he could muster. “Something smells wonderful, ma’am.”
“It’s your bread.” She inhaled deeply. “In the Bible, there’s talk of incense burning before the Lord. I don’t know about all the sweet-smelling things they used, but I won’t be disappointed if heaven smells like fresh, hot bread.”
“If that was true, I might could think ’bout mendin’ my ways and getting churchified.” Mr. Abrams plowed on into the cabin.
Accustomed to stomping the field soil from his shoes and wiping his feet on the veranda mat, Ian noticed the Smiths had no such mat. His next realization was that the cabin had a dirt floor. Nonetheless, he stomped his feet and did his best to knock off the worst of the dried crumbles.
“No need for that,” Miss Smith murmured.
“I’d beg to disagree. Your floor is hard packed; the soil on my boots would scatter all over and make a mess.” He flashed her a wry smile. “Besides, my ma would wallop me if she ever heard I tracked dirt into anyone’s house.”
Miss Smith laughed.
A table made of raw-cut timber completely filled the space between a pair of beds. Packing crates formed a crude storage area along the far wall on each side of a stone fireplace. Most of the dishes sat on the table; an appalling lack of food on the shelves stunned Ian. And still, they invited me to supper.
“You men can sit on that side.” Tucker waved at one of the beds. He sat next to his sister on the other.
“How lovely to have you gentlemen join us.” Miss Smith’s hazel eyes sparkled with delight.
She’s living on the edge of hunger, yet she’s glad to share. Ian smiled at her. “Honored to be invited, ma’am. It’s generous of you.”
“Yeah.” Abrams nodded as he swiped the biggest slice of bread and stuffed half of it in his mouth.
“In our home, we ask a blessing before each meal.” Tucker folded his hands.
Abrams crammed the rest of the bread in his mouth and bowed his head. The second Tucker’s prayer ended, Abrams grabbed for another slice of bread and squinted at Tucker. “Dunno much about all that God stuff, but didn’t you forget one of your lines? The one ’bout daily bread?”
“That’s the Lord’s Prayer.” Tucker lifted the platter of fish and started to pass it to Ian.
Ian tilted his head toward Miss Smith. “Ladies first.”
Tucker’s brow rose, but he held the platter so his sister could serve herself.
Abrams took a gigantic bite of the bread and spoke with his mouth full. “Ain’t all the prayers His?”
Miss Smith served her brother first, then herself. “All of our prayers are said to the Lord, but Jesus taught the disciples one as an example of how to pray. We call that the Lord’s Prayer.”
“Humph. Just as well.” The old man took the platter and speared the largest fish with his fork. As he lifted, the fish flaked apart and half flopped back onto the platter. He scraped the fish directly from the platter onto his plate and plunked the platter down without offering it to Ian. “I recollect there’s another part of that prayer that don’t settle with me. I ain’t no trespasser, and I ain’t a-gonna forgive nobody else for trespassing on my claim.”
“Jesus forgives all of us if we ask Him to. Christians want to be like Him, so we try to forgive others.” Miss Smith deftly lifted Abrams’s mug and pressed it into his hand as he reached for a third slice of bread.
Tucker pushed the bread toward Ian. Tucker’s eyes gave a silent bid for him to hurry and claim his fair share.
Ian took a slice and immediately gave the plate to Tucker. “After you and Miss Smith help yourselves, perhaps you could set this behind you.”
“No reason to do that,” Abrams roared with outrage.
“Of course there is. I’m clumsy.” Ian pointed at the serving platter that lay off center in the middle of the tiny table. “I aim to scoot that closer, or I’m going to drop fish on the table and make a mess.” He proceeded to pull the entrée over and serve himself.
“As I said”—Tucker cleared his throat—“bears can be a problem around here.”
Ian grimaced. “Then how did Percy live in a lean-to?”
“Stink.” Abrams bobbed his head knowingly. “He stunk so bad, bears like to thought he was a skunk.”
Miss Smith coughed. Is she really choking, or is she trying to hide laughter?
“Tucker, whap her on the back a few times. Something’s going down the wrong pipe.” Abrams waggled his fork in the air. “Yep. Stink’s what kept the bears from Percy.”
Miss Smith’s cough turned to a splutter. If Mr. Abrams had bathed even once in the past six months, Ian would have been amazed. Out in the open, his smell hadn’t been quite so overpowering, but in the close confines of the cabin, Abrams’s stench grew stronger by the second. Opening the one tiny window wouldn’t begin to help.
“Miss Smith”—Ian looked across the table at her—“do you need some fresh air?”
Tucker grabbed his plate and hers as he shot to his feet. “Good of you to understand, Rafferty. Come, Sis. We’ll all go on outside to finish supper. After the long winter, it’s best you get as much light and fresh air as you can.”
“Since you insist.” She rose with alacrity.
“Go on ahead.” Abrams sounded downright jolly. “I’ll get the bread.”
“I’ll tend to that.” Ian smiled. “Since her brother’s hands are full, I’ll help the lady with her cape.”
Miss Smith nodded. “Then I’ll carry the bread.”
Abrams made a disgruntled sound and trundled outside.
Ian took Miss Smith’s cape from the peg by the door. “I hope you’ll leave some of the loaf in here so you can have it tomorrow morning.”
“You won’t mind?”
“Why would I?” He slid the russet wool over her shoulders. “You baked it.”
“But it’s your flour.” She said that last word almost reverently.
“No, it wasn’t.” He couldn’t help himself. He moved her thick, glossy brown braid. It felt every bit as soft as it looked. “Just as your brother shared the fish he caught and you shared your labor, I shared the flour.”
“You bringin’ that bread out here?” Abrams hollered.
Ian chuckled. “Now set aside some for yourselves before that ornery old man eats it all.”
Meredith sat outside by the fire. Smoke filtered up from it and through the fish Tucker had strung earlier in the day. That bounty alone already caused her to praise God for His provision today. The bread just proved how generous the Lord continued to be toward her and Tucker.
“You gonna eat that bread, or are you just gonna stare at it?”
“Of course she’s going to eat it,” Tucker half growled.
Mr. Abrams stuck out his lower lip like a pouting toddler. “No need to get touchy. Just didn’t want good food to go to waste.”
“It was good food.” Mr. Rafferty set his plate down on the rock beside him and nodded at her. “Miss Smith, you’re a grand cook.” After she murmured her thanks, Mr. Rafferty gestured toward the line of fish. “And Tucker, you’re quite the fisherman. That’s an impressive day’s catch. I know for certain I’ll never come close to a haul like that.”
Though she appreciated the compliment Mr. Rafferty paid to her cooking, Meredith especially appreciated how he praised her brother. Tucker enjoyed fishing and was proud of having provided well for their meal. Having someone recognize his contribution—that mattered.
“I’m a miserable fisherman,” Mr. Rafferty continued. “But I do like to hunt. Once I erect a cabin, I’m planning to build a smokehouse.”
“You handled that bow well today.” Tucker skidded the last bite of his bread over his plate, gathering the last little flakes of fish. “Even so, I’m glad to see you brought a firearm.”
“I read a fair bit when I decided to come north. Judging from the landscape and region, I’m hoping to get grouse, pheasant, and rabbit. My bow will serve me well with those wee creatures. As for my rifle—one good-sized mountain sheep or caribou would certainly provide endless meals.”
“No caribou here. No deer, either.” Abrams burped loudly. “You’d be smart to pan gold and pay for more supplies to see you through the winter. That canvas you brought—just double it over the lean-to, and you’ll be snug enough. You don’t have time to waste building a cabin, let alone a smokehouse. That plan’s pure foolishness.”
Mr. Rafferty stared at the fire. Most men would have been insulted, but he didn’t react. After a moment’s silence, he asked, “Are you folks familiar with a man by the name of Wily?”
“Yes,” Meredith said.
“Who isn’t?” Abrams scowled. “Worthless waste of a man.”
“Wily’s a good man,” Tucker disagreed. “Salt of the earth.”
“Salt?” Abrams spat off to the side. “If that’s what you want, he’ll bring it. Won’t deliver what’s important, though.”
Tucker shrugged. “A man has the right to run his own business. Wily’s reliable. If he agrees to ferry someone or deliver something, his word is his bond.”
Relief radiated from their new neighbor. “Percy introduced me to him. After I learned that Percy had hedged regarding the shelter, I wondered if he and Wily were in cahoots. Wily’s to bring the remainder of my possessions in his boat.”
“You’ve got more stuff a-comin’?” Abrams leaned forward. “Like what?”
“Necessities.”
Abrams slapped his knee. “Now that was downright smart of you. Wily wouldn’t pry. You said necessities, and he don’t think the way you and me do. He won’t guess what you got. I’m your neighbor. When—”
“If you’re thinking I have spirits or tobacco coming, you’re mistaken. Neither appeals to me, and they’re certainly not essential.”
While Abrams moaned and groaned, Tucker rose. “Speaking of necessities, we’d better string up the supplies you brought before we lose our light.”
“Hold on a second.” Abrams looked like a drowning man grasping for even the smallest twig. “Ain’t you gonna brew us up some coffee now, Meredith? You always make coffee when you got guests.”
“Which is why we ran out.” Tucker locked eyes with Mr. Rafferty. “Learn from our mistake. There’ll be no coffee tonight.”
“Now why’d you hafta go ruin it?” Abrams trundled toward the rope. “No use me stickin’ round here any longer. Time’s better spent workin’ my claim.” Once he crabbed his way across the river, the old man untied the rope from his tree. The cold air carried his dark mutterings.
As Mr. Rafferty pulled the rope over to his claim, Meredith gathered the dishes. The men sorted the supplies, and Meredith forced herself to wash the dishes. She oughtn’t bustle over and stick her nose in the new neighbor’s business. Though he seemed friendly enough, she didn’t want him to feel as if they were trying to get on his good side so he’d give them food.
It didn’t take them long to suspend the food from a tree. Rafferty accompanied Tucker back to their fire. “Sis, Mr. Rafferty’s asked to sleep by the fire here tonight. He’ll add logs so the fish’ll smoke.”
“Will you be warm enough?” As soon as she blurted out the question, Meredith regretted her haste. They didn’t have blankets to spare.
“ ’Tis kind of you to ask, but I’ve warm blankets aplenty.” He set down the bundle he’d carried in his left arm and carefully propped his rifle so it pointed away from the cabin.
The fire flickered again, and Meredith’s breath caught. Atop his dark wool blanket rested a brown leather book. “Is that a Bible?”
“It is.” He smiled. “It’s a blessing to know I have believers for my new neighbors.”
“Could you…would you…” Tears filled her eyes.
Tucker wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Our Bible got wet. We tried to dry it, but pages started to mold. I cut the spine and salvaged half of it. I think my sister is asking if you’d mind reading something aloud.”
“Not at all.” He picked up the Bible and held it out to her. “Why don’t you choose what you’d like? Tucker, you can read it to us.”
She relished the weight of the whole Bible. How could something that felt so heavy make her heart feel so light?
“What would you like, Sis?”
A psalm? A passage of Exodus where the children of God were in the wilderness? Job, who suffered the unthinkable and turned to praise God? The choice overwhelmed her. “Anything. Anything at all.”
Tucker let out a low, long rumble of laughter.
In that moment, Meredith knew she’d never forget this moment or the neighbor God sent to make it happen. Mr. Rafferty hadn’t brought bread alone. He’d brought the Word of God, and he’d done the impossible. He’d broken a year and a half ’s bleakness by making her brother laugh.