Chapter 4 - The Fire in the Hearth
Back inside the cabin, the warmth hit Warren like a physical blow.
He bolted the heavy oak door behind him, dropped the iron bar into place, and walked over to the woodstove to warm his hands. Ghost was curled on the rag rug, her chin resting on her paws, the puppy soundly asleep against her belly like a furry loaf of bread. She raised her head as Warren entered, her amber eyes searching his face for blood or damage, then gave a single, soft thump of her tail against the floorboards when she saw he was intact.
"They're not coming back tonight," Warren said, pulling off his gloves and tossing them onto the woodbox. "And if they do, they'll be walking very slowly."
He walked over to the sideboard, poured himself a fresh mug of coffee, and sat down at the trestle table. The oil lamp flickered as a gust of wind slammed against the cedar logs outside, sending a shiver of cold air down the chimney flue.
Silas’s Bible still lay open beside the spectacles. Warren reached out with one finger and turned a page. Written in his grandfather’s spidery, ink-stained handwriting on the blank flyleaf was a single sentence, dated three weeks before the old man died:
A man is not defined by the wars he leaves behind, but by the ground he refuses to let them steal from under his feet.
Warren stared at the ink until the letters blurred together into a dark smudge. He closed the book gently, picked up his coffee, and took a long, slow drink.
Outside, the storm was settling into the long, grinding siege of a mountain winter—three days of whiteout, twenty below zero, and silence deep enough to hear the mountains settling on their foundations. But inside, the fire was hot, the coffee was bitter and strong, and for the first time in twenty-four years, the chair beneath him didn't feel like it was about to move.
May you like
"Well, Ghost," Warren said, looking down at the shepherd, who had closed her eyes again, her breathing steady and deep in the dark. "Looks like we've got some property to look after."
The dog didn't move, but her notched ear twitched once in agreement.
