Matthias crept through the trees, arrow notched in his bow as he scanned the underbrush for movement. The cloven-hooved tracks were fresh, so the herd of wild hogs couldn’t be far ahead of him.
There. In the dim, early-morning light, the flimsy branches of a low cedar wiggled. A black body rubbed against it, snout raised to the air as the animal caught the breeze. Exactly why he’d been careful to stay downwind from them. Hogs seemed to have remarkable sense of smell. A wonder that they could have any ability left after smelling their own stench, but ’twas a fact.
He raised the bow and took aim. Though he had his pistol strapped at his waist, he preferred to use his bow for easier prey like this. It kept him in practice. The animal at which he now aimed was a smaller boar, so he’d do best to get a clean chest shot. The animal would still be aplenty for the Yule feast at the Shumeisters.
The hog turned and seemed to sense Matthias there. The distance was perfect. He focused again, then released the arrow.
A whistle, then the thwack of the point hitting its mark. The animal’s squeal split the morning air as it jerked. More squeals sounded, and the rest of the herd broke through the underbrush, scattering in all directions.
He kept his focus on his target. The pig with the arrow leapt in a circle, then turned and darted almost head-first into a tree, shifting to the side at the last second.
Matthias pulled another arrow from the quiver on his back. Perhaps, the first hadn’t hit its mark exactly. The other pigs still squealed in a terrible ruckus, but he forced out all sound that could distract him.
He fitted the notch against the string, but a force slammed into him from behind. It knocked him forward, and he scrambled to keep himself upright, but the brute kept pushing. He tried to throw the bow and arrow to the side, but the tip caught on the ground, tangling in the bow and his arms.
He fought to free his hands to brace his body as he slammed into the ground. His shoulder landed on a sharp point even as something hard and heavy hit the back of his leg.
A pig?
He twisted to see a black form charging again. “Yah!” He kicked out at the animal, catching its snout with his boot and turning it away.
“Get!” He kicked again, but the animal seemed to have spent its fury as it ran squealing in the other direction.
The sounds of screaming pigs faded into the distance as he sank back against the ground. His breath came hard and quick as his pulse still surged in his neck. That was the first time he’d ever been attacked by a pig.
A grunt sounded about a dozen feet away, and he jerked his head up. Had the boar come back for another go? But no, the pig that had first been his prey lay there, an arrow shaft sticking from its chest. Apparently, he’d hit the right mark.
Bracing his hands on the ground, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His head went light as a wave of dizziness slammed him. His shoulder and neck throbbed something awful, too.
As the spinning ebbed, he glanced down at his bow and arrow on the ground where he’d lain. The bow appeared unscathed, but the arrow had snapped in two. His shoulder may have caused that damage. His coat had protected his skin, but he reached up to rub the part of his neck that still stung.
His hand came away bloody. Feeling the cut again, it seemed to be just that—a cut from the notched end of the arrow. Not deep enough to require stitches, and no spurting blood that would mean he’d injured a vein.
Unbuttoning the top three loops of his coat, he peeled back the right side to check his shoulder. No blood showed on his shirt. The thickness of the deer hide had probably protected his skin from the arrow penetrating.
He rubbed his neck again. More blood, but he’d live. After gathering his things, he pushed to his feet. The dizziness flooded back, making him stumble, so he reached for a tree to steady himself. He’d left Karl back where he first saw the hog tracks, so he’d best go back for the gelding and his tools.
Then ’twas time to go to Mountain Bluff. He’d debated for four days now, but he couldn’t quite force himself to stay away. Mutti would expect him.
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings intentionally. He did enough of that without trying. And he’d promised Opal he would show her the excitement of Yule. Of the promises he’d made her, at least that one he could keep.
“Come, boy. You can help me dump the wash water.” Opal held the back door with her body while she balanced the bucket of used water in one hand and the lantern in the other. Charmer ambled out, taking his own sweet time. He paused to sniff at the snow that lingered on the ground, then stepped gingerly on it. She resisted the urge to nudge him forward so she could shut the door. “Tis not as bad as all that.”
Leaving the dog behind, she strolled to the edge of the yard where the wood began. The lantern cast a halo of yellow light, forming deep shadows in the boot prints scattered across the clearing. There were only a few inches of snow left, but they were likely to get another layer any time.
Today was the first day of Yule, and Matthias hadn’t come to celebrate. That shouldn’t leave her with such an ache in her chest. She and Mrs. S. had been cooking and baking since yesterday, and they’d all enjoyed a hearty feast tonight. The Shumeisters and Doctor Howard had been here, and the Chancellors from the mercantile had even come to join them. The table had been full enough, it’d not been obvious they were missing a person.
Yet that person’s absence had left a greater hole than even his broad frame should be able to fill.
She set the lantern on the ground so she could dump the bucket, then raised the light again and looked around. This was just about the spot where she’d found Charmer, and at about this same time of night, although the moon had been much brighter then.
“You remember this place, boy?” She shifted the lantern to the hand that carried the bucket, then reached down to scratch the dog behind his ears.
He leaned against her skirts, tilting his head up in doggy appreciation.
But then his ears pricked and he straightened, staring off into the distance.
“What is it?” She followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything other than darkness outside of the light.
But then a sound met her ears. The shuffling of something in the snow. Animal or man?
“Who’s there?” Her voice came out too wobbly, probably because her pulse pounded like a beggar at the door.
“Opal?”
“Matthias?” She almost sagged in relief. “What are you doing out there?”
A large form took shape in the darkness, too dark to recognize the figure on top, but she’d know that white-gray steed anywhere.
Matthias reined in the horse, and she set her bucket and lantern on the ground so she could step forward and stroke the gelding. “Hey, boy.”
Behind her, Charmer let out a bark as if to remind them of his presence.
“Hey there, pup.” Matthias’s voice sounded weary.
Her eyes roamed up to take him in, a shadowed giant with his fur hood pulled up to cover his head. “Go on inside. I can put away this boy, and Mrs. S. will be so glad to see you. We almost gave up on you coming.”
He leaned forward, and for a moment, it looked like he might fall off the horse in a heap. But he caught himself with the saddle horn and slid his legs down to meet the ground. “I’ll see to Karl. I have a wild hog for the celebration, too.” His voice seemed to slur, as though he were…intoxicated? No, that wasn’t right. He’d never imbibed, not even the brandy the saddle maker had brought when Mr. S. had been injured.
Maybe the slur came from exhaustion. She gathered the horse’s reins and used her no-nonsense voice. “You must be tired. I’ll see to things.”
He still had a hand propped on the saddle, as though he needed it for support. “All right.” The weariness in those two words made her want to slip herself under his arm and let him lean on her as he struggled inside. Would he even make it on his own?
But he straightened and turned to the bundle behind his saddle. She moved around to the other side and unfastened the strap there. It was a roll of leather, and, from the smells emanating, it must contain that pork he’d mentioned.
When they had it loose, Matthias heaved the bundle on his shoulder with a grunt.
“Can I help you with that?” Her instincts screamed to run around the horse and take at least one end of the bundle. She probably couldn’t have carried the whole thing, which meant it might be too much for him in this exhausted state, too.
But he trudged forward, weaving a little under the load. Yet his stride held an air of his usual determination.
She turned back to the gelding. “Well, Karl. You must be weary, too. I’ll bet we have a nice bucket of oats for you.”
A quarter hour later, she had the gelding settled in the little shed where Matthias usually stabled him. One might wonder why he hadn’t taken the horse to the livery, where accommodations would surely be more comfortable for such a big animal. Yet that day when she and Matthias had left to visit Tori had made the reason very clear to her. Mr. Lefton would sooner point a rifle at him than stable his horse.
With Matthias’s pack over her shoulder and her hands full of his bedroll, as well as her original bucket and lantern, she and Charmer headed for the house.
The dining room was quiet, and as she rounded the corner, only Mr. S. sat in his chair. “Where’s Matthias?” Had he already retired for the night? Sure, he’d been exhausted, but he must need to eat. And she’d not even had the presence of mind outside to wish him a Happy Yule, or whatever one said to celebrate the holiday.
“He’s gone to settle in his room. Do not fear, he’ll be back to eat.” Mr. S. nursed a mug as he offered a gentle smile. His blond mustache covered much of the curve of his mouth, but the twinkle in his pale blue eyes was unmistakable.
From the looks of the heaping plate in front of Matthias’s usual seat, Mrs. S. had been insistent about that. And just now, the older woman probably needed help in the kitchen. Would she work on the pork tonight? Probably, since mornings were so busy with baking.
She turned toward the kitchen door. “I’d best go help Mrs. S.”
“Nein. Come and sit, liebling. Our boy will want to tell us about his trip while he eats.”
She paused, every part of her wanting to obey his suggestion—could it pass for a command?—but she was being paid to help, not sit. “Maybe I can relieve Mrs. S. so she can come and visit. I know she’d like to.”
“Nein.” This time the word was definitely closer to an order. He almost never took that tone, but it left no doubt he meant for her to listen. “Sit and visit.” He motioned toward her chair across from Matthias’s place.
She sank into it. Yet sitting idle felt so wrong. Especially since Matthias wasn’t even here yet.
Thankfully, his boots sounded on the stairs. Slowly. As though every step took great effort.
He rounded the corner into the dining room, and she found herself rising before she could stop. His blond hair was slicked back as though he’d just washed his face, the golden stubble on his jaw much thicker than when he’d left five days ago.
But what drew her focus more than anything else were those dark shadows above his cheeks, as though his eyes had sunk deeper into their sockets. Had he not slept since he left them?
“Sit and eat.” She motioned toward his plate as she moved to the tea pot to fill his mug. “I hope you’re hungry. I think Mrs. S. gave you a heaping portion of everything.”
He sank into his chair and paused for a second to stare at the food. Was he saying a silent prayer? Savoring the aroma? It actually looked more like he was gathering his strength before he reached for his fork and stabbed a slice of meat.
“You look tired. Are you feeling all right?” She couldn’t help but ask. She’d never seen him in this condition, and it had tied a ball of nerves in her stomach.
“Rode straight through since yesterday morning. Just need a few hours’ sleep.”
“You rode all night? Why?” He’d done this to himself? He was practically ill. She couldn’t imagine a single reason worth pushing so hard.
He looked up, and his expression might have been sheepish if he hadn’t looked so hollowed out. “I was trying to get back for the first day of Yule.”
If that didn’t beat all. She sank into her chair. “Happy Yule, Mr. Björk.”
One corner of his mouth tipped.
“Is there specific tradition for this first day?” She glanced from Matthias to Mr. S., then back to their weary traveler.
“Normally, we eat a lot and tell a few stories from years past. Years way past, like the sagas of old.” His mouth tipped again. “Maybe I’ll save that part for tomorrow.”
It made her chest ache to see him like this. So exhausted that eating alone seemed to use all his energy. But he surely needed the food. If he hadn’t stopped to sleep, he probably hadn’t eaten more than jerky and stale biscuits.
She glanced at Mr. S. “I’ll look forward to it tomorrow. For now, I’d best go see if I can help Mrs. S. in the kitchen.”
They worked together for a while, preparing the meat Matthias had brought so it would be ready to cook the next day. Then Opal started her final clean-up. “You go on out and visit with the men now.” She motioned toward the door.
“Ja. I will.” Mrs. S. patted Opal’s shoulder, then removed her apron and left the room.
It only took another moment before Opal had the kitchen tidy. Her ears strained to pick up on the voices humming from the other room, but no words were decipherable. If only there were something she could do to help Matthias. But after food, he probably needed sleep more than anything.