Page 23 of The Scarred Lyon

“I have bread and cheese. I will fetch it. First, the chair?”

Hansen grumbled but pulled the threadbare chair, stuffing sticking out of the sides, closer to the fire. With his free arm, Duncan helped Augusta into the chair. “Mrs. Hansen, do you have a stool?”

The woman would not look at Duncan, and Augusta’s anger flared. “Mrs. Hansen, answer my husband, if you please,” Augusta said frostily.

“Aye, I do.” She hurried into the back room as Mr. Hansen slipped on his coat and left through the back door to no doubt fetch more wood.

Duncan leaned down and kissed her forehead. “We shouldn’t become too imperious,” he chuckled. “Or they will throw us into the snowbanks.”

“How dare she not look at you or answer you. How rude!”

“We had best be on our guard. I do not like the look in Hansen’s eyes.”

Before Augusta could ask Duncan what he meant, Mrs. Hansen returned and handed Duncan the stool with barely a glance. He gently removed her boot, lifted her injured foot, and set it on the stool. “We should wrap that as soon as possible. It is quite swollen.”

“I have bits of cloth in my case. Save the ones Mr. McGloin gave you for Dawn,” Augusta replied in a low voice only Duncan could hear. “There is a bag of tea, as well.”

“I will return as soon as I can.”

Duncan took the narrow stairs and disappeared into the attic. Mr. and Mrs. Hansen stood some distance away, their heads together, whispering in low tones. As Duncan surmised, something wasn’t quite right. Desperate people were capable of doing the unthinkable. Who could blame them for being wary of strangers? “My husband is bringing some tea I had in my case.”

The Hansens turned to stare at her.

“I’ll boil water, then.” Mrs. Hansen took a pot, stepped outside for a moment, and returned with it filled with water, likely from a rain barrel. Mr. Hansen grumbled under his breath and went into a room that must be where the couple slept. Mrs. Hansen set the pot of stew on the grate and laid out bowls and mugs on the table. “Probably not as fancy as you’re used to, I’ll be bound.”

“We are very grateful you took us in. Our driver perished in the mishap. We lost everything. It was quite a harrowing experience.”

Mrs. Hansen merely grunted in reply.

Duncan returned and handed the food to Mrs. Hansen. He had one of the quilts folded over his good arm. “Here, my dear. Remove your cape and inner coat. We will dry them by the fire.”

She did so, and Duncan laid the quilt across her lap. Spotting a wooden rack in the corner, Duncan pulled it over to sit in front of the fire, then placed her outerwear, along with his, on the rack. Thankfully, her traveling clothes had stayed mostly dry.

With the gentlest of touches, he wrapped her ankle. “Not too tight?”

“No, it isn’t. Thank you.”

“Here,” Mrs. Hansen called out. “Stew’s in the bowls. Tea’s in the mugs. There’s no milk, cream, or sugar.” She set two mugs and half the bread and cheese on a wooden tray. “We’ll eat in our room. Retire when you like.”

“Where’s the privy?” Duncan asked.

“Out back. Not far from the door.”

And with that, she was gone.

They ate in silence, then Duncan fetched her case, cloak, and boots, and escorted her to the privy. That brief moment outside, even with her coat on, chilled her afresh. All remnants of rain and ice were gone. Heavy snow fell from the skies. After using the privy himself, Duncan assisted her inside. They warmed themselves by the fire for a time, then Duncan placed their coats and the quilt over his uninjured arm and assisted her up the narrow stairs. She entered the room to find a candle burning, the other quilt covering the pallet, and two pillows.

“I did my best to make it comfortable. There were candles and matches in the bench seat along with the bedding and pistols.”

“It’s not all that cold in here,” Augusta said.

“The bricks from the chimney are warm enough to keep the chill at bay. Our body heat will do the rest. I found a jar of water in the hamper, along with two mugs. I suggest we each take some willow bark and try to sleep. I am exhausted, and my body aches like the devil, especially my shoulder.”

“Yes, I feel the same,” she said. “We are going to find bruising tomorrow, are we not?”

“Yes. If we had serious internal injuries, they would have shown by now, based on my army experience.”

After they drank the willow bark, Duncan helped her lie down. Then he pulled what looked like a trunk in front of the door.