Only 04 - Only Love

that was sweet rather than sulfurous.
    Silent John had used the healing waters when his arthritis bothered him too much. Shannon simply liked the steamy warmth of the hidden cave. It saved having to chop wood to heat water in order to wash clothes—and herself. The hot spring meant that the secondhand clothes she wore were clean, as was the skin beneath them. In such a remote place, where the soft comforts of civilization were almost entirely lacking, the hot spring was a delicious luxury.
    And during Shannon’s first winters alone, when she had neither the strength nor the skill to bring down trees big enough to heat the cabin, the hot spring had saved her life. She was better with ax and maul and saw, now, yet far from good. There was barely a few days’ worth of stove wood stacked outside the cabin right now.
    Thank the Lord for the hot spring. Otherwise I might get as dirty as Murphy or those Culpeppers.
    Seeing the direction of his mistress’s glance, Prettyface whined hopefully. For all his rough appearance, the dog enjoyed chasing shadows in the warm creek that flowed out from the hot spring’s pool before disappearing into a crack in the bedrock.
    “Not this morning,” Shannon said to Prettyface. “We have to return the salt we borrowed fromCherokee. She—blast it, he – will need it.”
    Shannon frowned at Prettyface, who waved his tail gently.
    “It’s a good thing no one else is ever around,” Shannon said unhappily. “I got used to being called Silent John’s wife, but I have an awful time speaking of Cherokee as a he when I know full well now that she isn’t.”
    Memories of the Culpeppers’ coarse comments tightened Shannon’s mouth for a moment.
    “Not that I blame Cherokee for the charade. The longer Silent John is gone, the more I know why she decided to dress like a man, let herself be called a shaman, and live way up on the north fork of Avalanche Creek.”
    With a determined sweep of her arm, Shannon pushed off the bearskin cover that kept the worst of the chill at bay during the night. There was no dressing to do, for she had quickly learned the habit of bathing before bed and sleeping in clean clothes for their warmth.
    There weren’t many chores to do around the cabin in the morning. Since Shannon wasn’t going to stay inside, there was no point in building a fire. Just as there was no point in lighting a lantern and wasting precious oil when the sun would be up pretty soon.
    Shannon poured a cup of water from the small silver pitcher that had been her mother’s. The water was so cold it made her teeth ache, but even so, the water made scraps of venison jerky easier to chew.
    She was still chewing when she pulled on Silent John’s second-best jacket and went to the front door. As she walked, she stuffed a few more strips of dried venison into her pocket.
    That’s the last of the jerky, she thought unhappily. Thank God the deer are coming back to the high country.
    Before Shannon unbarred the cabin door, she lifted the shotgun from its pegs over the doorway. As she had done the previous night, she broke open the weapon, pulled out the two precious shells, picked up a soft buckskin cloth, and went to work on the gun.
    Even when Shannon had been barely fifteen, Silent John had been merciless in his demands that Shannon learn to use and care for his weapons. She had never been much good with the heavy .50-caliber buffalo gun that he preferred, but she could shoot the lighter guns well enough to defend herself.
    Putting food on the table was another matter entirely. There was no money to spare on extra ammunition to hone her shooting skills, so she had to get very close to the quarry before she could risk a shot. As a result, she nearly always gave away her presence before she felt confident enough to shoot.
    “But I’m getting better,” Shannon assured herself. “By this winter, Cherokee won’t have to hunt for two.”
    With quick, efficient motions Shannon wiped down the shotgun, making certain that no moisture had condensed overnight inside the firing chambers. When she was satisfied that everything was clean and dry, she put a shell in each chamber and closed the gun firmly. She put four more shells in her pocket, leaving only three shells in the box.
    Like the venison jerky, Shannon’s supply of ammunition was nearly gone.
    “When I go into Holler Creek again, I’ll have to buy ammunition. And next time I go, you’re coming with me, Prettyface. I know you