Writing to the word prompt "great" #TT1 #amwriting Tuesday Tales #ASMSG

Welcome to Tuesday Tales- this week's word is GREAT

 

This is my work in progress- Patrick the mountain man has saved Samantha from the bitter cold and he has just discovered a young boy----

 

Samantha grabbed a tin plate and ladled some of the venison stew on it. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered. Her clothes were still damp so she grabbed one of Patrick’s shirts and put it on. It was huge on her. She rolled up the sleeves and laughed when she saw it practically hung to her feet. 

Thankful for the food, she soon ate her fill. She’d be dead if not for the mountain man. He didn’t seem to be one to smile often, but he hadn’t tried to have his way with her either. Opening the door, she was immediately pushed back by the intense wind. It was a struggle to close the door. Hopefully Patrick wasn’t too far away. 

Her hands and feet still hurt but not as much as the first time, she woke. It was a good sign. Patrick must get supplies somewhere. The nearest town couldn’t be too far away. As soon as the storm stopped, she’d be on her way. She hadn’t quite figured out what she’d do once she got to town but she was sure there must be a kindly pastor and his wife to take her in for a bit.

Sitting at the table, she stared at the great food still in her bowl. Wild onions, potatoes, and meat were a treat. It seemed to be forever since she’d had enough to eat. Supplies on the wagon train were rationed and the hope for hunting quickly dimmed as the hunters returned day after day without food.

She took her last bite when the door blew open with a bang. Patrick stood in the doorway, carrying a child and glaring at her. “I found your child. I’ve heard about bad mothers but dang it you are as cold hearted as they come. Why no mention of your son? You left him out there to die!”

Quickly standing she backed up. “That is not my boy. I’ve never been married.”

“Aha! So, the real skinny is coming to light. What happened the rest of the pious folks on the wagon train found out you have a bastard and threw you out? Did you figure you’d be better off without proof of your sins?”

The back of her legs hit the bed and she immediately sat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That child needs tending. Bring him here.”

“What’s his name?” he asked as he laid him on the bed.

“How would I know?” She was glad her irritation echoed in her voice. The mountain man was pure loco.

“You plan to play out your lies? Your heart must be iced over.”

“He is not my child.” She began to undress him and gasped. His bones were visible and he had more than a few bruises on him.”

Patrick gaffed. “I wouldn’t want to admit to the treatment of the boy either.”

It was getting nearly impossible to keep her temper reined in.

“Could you get me some warm water and a bit of muslin if you have it. I’d like to wash him off a bit.”

He didn’t say a word; he just did as she asked. He watched as she tenderly wiped the dirt away from the boy. 

“From his thinness I’d say he’d been on his own for more than a few weeks. How old do you think he is?”

“He’s puny enough to pass for three but I reckon he’s at least four or so. He was smart enough to hide in my hay.”

Samantha nodded. It didn’t matter what Patrick thought, she needed to tend to the boy. Someone out there was missing a child and must be either heartbroken or dead. These mountains were unforgiving. She briefly wondered how the people on the wagon train were fairing but dismissed them fast enough. They probably weren’t wondering about her. 

As soon as the boy was washed, she tucked him into the massive bed. His eyes opened and he smiled. “Mommy?”

Before she could utter a word, Patrick sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re fine now, lad. Your ma is right here. No more worries.”

The boy nodded and instantly fell back to sleep.

Patrick stood and crossed his arms in front of him. His expression was thunderous. “Lies upon lies. If the wind wasn’t howling like a banshee, I’d put you out. Children are innocents and no matter how they came into the world they deserve the same love as any other child.”

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. What was there to say? He didn’t believe one word she said. Why the child called her mommy was a mystery but they did have the same coloring. His ma was probably blonde too. She’d lived a good an honest and respectable life. She obeyed her parents and tried to do what was right. Maybe it was all for naught. Patrick didn’t care, he already judged her immoral. 

“I hope his parents are alive somewhere and we can reunite them.”

He laughed mockingly and shook his head. “Still insisting he’s not yours huh? He did call you mommy. I think it’s proof enough. You can stop with your untruths now.”

She gave him a sad smile, walked by him, and grabbed one of the chairs. She put it closer to the fireplace and sat down. Maybe the storm would be over soon.

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  Welcome- This week's word is - ring.

Patrick squatted before the fire adding wild onion to his venison stew. It was his winter staple. He wasn’t sure what to think. Her story, though far-fetched could be true. He’d heard of worse. Sometimes people on a wagon train turned on each other. Usually they just broke into smaller groups. Who in their right mind would leave a woman behind? There was no way she was as innocent as she claimed.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes drank their full of her. She was beautiful and while sleeping he could imagine her to be an angel, but he knew better. Most people weren’t what they showed the world. No, many harbored secrets and prejudices. Samantha, he’d never known a woman with that name before. She was probably supposed to be a boy named Sam and her parents had chosen a female name.

Her honey blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. It’d been a long time since he’d seen a woman so fair. He went to town twice a year for supplies, other than that he lived a mostly solitary life. There were a few neighbors like him, who didn’t like the closed in feel of a town. He tried the town life for a bit but people were not a charitable lot. They never forgave his parents for their supposed sins.

Traps needed to be checked and he couldn’t take the time to indulge himself in his musings. Grabbing his heavy coat, he glanced back at Samantha and head out into the cold. The frigid bite hit him full force.  Ducking his head against the wind, he made his way to the makeshift barn. His horse, Ahearn was always ready and willing to go no matter what the weather. He more than earned his name, which meant Lord of Horses in Gaelic.

Leaving a woman to starve and freeze—what was the world coming to? He mounted his horse and off they went to slowly make their way from trap to trap. He already had a good amount of the finest furs and it made him proud. Hard work always paid off.

They traveled from trap to trap and found nothing. Perhaps the woman brought some bad luck with her. His mother would have prayed over her and sent her on her way. He smiled. He missed his mother but at least he had many fond memories to get him through. The clouds were rolling into the mountains and they were in for more nasty weather. He turned Ahern toward home and off they went.

A set of small footprints caught his eye. He pulled up on the reins, stopping Ahern and jumped off. The prints looked to be a child’s. Did Samantha leave a child behind? She didn’t wear a ring. Was she married? He followed them for a while but they disappeared in the blowing snow. Still he searched but he came up empty. It was too damn cold for a child to survive out here but there was nothing else he could do.

Grabbing Ahearn’s mane he jumped onto his back and headed back to the cabin. The wind picked up and the sky turned dark. He’d better hurry if he planned to make it home before the next storm blew in.

After getting Ahearn into the barn and dried off, he gave him extra straw and made sure there was water. Grabbing a rope, he fully intended to tie a line from the barn to the hose in case there was a white out. More than one person had been found frozen to death just steps from their houses. A rustling sound in the hayloft caught his attention and he slowly made his way to the pile. A small black shoe stuck out but the rest was hidden beneath the hay.

“Achoo.”

“Come on out, I know you’re in there.” His words were met with silence.

There was another sneeze. Patrick reached down and brushed the hay off a small child. A boy. A blond haired, blue eyed, boy.

“You’ll freeze out here and die. Come to the house, your Ma is in there.”

The boy’s eyes widened but he remained silent. He stretched out both arms to Patrick and he grabbed him up into his arms. The poor child was skin and bone. What type of mother leaves her child out in the snow to die? Samantha had a lot of explaining to do.

“Let’s get you warm and dry. I even have food warming over the fire.”

The boy nodded, put his head on Patrick’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. 

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Tuesday Tales #TT1

Welcome. Today's word it Stutter

She awoke with a start not recognizing where she was. A fire danced in the massive stone fireplace, but beyond the firelight, it was dark. Pain shot through her hands and feet. It was expected with frostbite, but she didn’t know just how painful it was until now. 

The cabin looked to be well built out of hand hewed logs and no wind came through the walls. It was tiny, but it probably suited the man who rescued her. Sitting up she waited for her eyes to adjust to the semi darkness. There was a big pile of furs in one corner. A table with two chairs and a makeshift kitchen area. Wooden crates hung on the walls to serve as shelves and a roughly put together plank of wood with logs for legs, held a few kitchen items and tools.

Above the pile of furs were pegs on which a few items of clothing hung. There was nothing fancy and nothing of convenience but it was warm. She was grateful to have shelter from the cold. The pain in her fingers was the worst and she dreaded looking at them. Slowly she pulled them out from under the covers and to her relief; they weren’t blackened with severe frostbite.

The door opened and the big man came in, a bundle of firewood in his arms. Kicking the door closed behind him, he then glanced in her direction. “So, you’ve decided to come back to this world did ya?”

“H- how long was I a-asleep?” she stuttered. Her body tensed, not sure what he had in store for her.

He laid the wood next to the fireplace and threw a log on top of the fire. The flame blazed higher. “Only a day. You sure were hard to thaw and I’m glad ya was out when I tended your hands and feet. Painful business it is.”

“Thank you. They are still hurting. It was nice of you to tend to me. I was afraid I’d lose them. Actually, I figured I was going to die out there. I’ve never seen snow so early. I wonder how the others fared.”

His dark brow rose. “Others? You said you were alone. Damn, I live up here to be away from folks not to go rescue them.” He took off his fur coat and sat down. 

“I am or was alone. I got kicked off the wagon train and left to fend for myself.” Her voice contained the bitterness she couldn’t hide.

“What in tar-nation are you talking about? You must have done something pretty awful to be banned from the wagon train.”

“Of course.”

His dark eyes widened and he ran his hand through his thick black hair. It hung past his shoulders and she wondered when he’d it cut last. “You might as well tell me. I’m not the type to judge.”

“My parents died and they refused to let me travel with them alone. It was either marry old toothless Thomas or thrown off. To my surprise they were serious and when I refused to marry Thomas they filled a sack with a meager amount of food, filled a canteen, and allowed me to take my coat and scarf with me.” She paused as all the pain came rushing back. There hadn’t even been time to mourn the passing of her dear mother and father.

“Miss, that’s—”

“It’s Samantha. Samantha Foley.”

He nodded. “I’m Patrick  McCrory. I have to say that’s quite the yarn you’re spinning.”

She glanced away from his intense brown eyes. “I wish it was just a story.”

“Well now, are you sure you weren’t inviting the married men to look your way?”

A loud sigh was her reply. She’d thought the people on the wagon train were crazy, but now a stranger believed her capable of luring men. What was it about her that people assumed such an awful thing? “I thought you said no judgment.”

“Aye, I did. How long ago did they put you out?”

“I’d say two weeks or so. I tried to follow by foot but they actually threw rocks at me to keep me away. As far as I’m concerned, they left me to die.” A tear rolled down her face. “Ouch!” She tried to wipe it away.

“Don’t cry. I hate crying. If you want me to believe your story I will.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Just what is it about me that screams whore to you?”

“You have pretty blonde hair, and a man could get lost in those big blue eyes of yours. I have to say you are nicely rounded in the right places. You don’t seem very meek either.”

“You think I should have married Thomas? He is shiftless and wanted me to be his worker, not a wife. It would have caused trouble since I had no inclination to lay with him. He surely would have beaten me for it too. So, maybe my predicament is my fault, I suppose I chose death over a life of sheer hell.”

His face softened a bit but she could see the clouds of doubt in his eyes. “I bet you’re hungry. I’ll throw something together.” There was an edge to his voice and it didn’t invite any more conversation.

Lying back down, she figured she might as well try to regain her strength before she was put out again.

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