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"I got a room set up for you. And some drying racks for whatever meat you got left. My name is Brigid Whitebear. My husband and I own and run the hostel. Always looking to find helpers for a few nights." I nodded as she led me to the room. It was next to the back door and across from the bathroom. I was glad of that. Had Tommy said I was cautious? If so, she was a great hostess.

The room was twelve feet by fifteen feet and had a bed, a small dresser, a mirror and a desk with chair. There was a fresh towel on the bed already and I got the subtle hint that I should bathe first. "Thanks. Need any help before I take a shower?" I was tired as I hadn't slept last night, but I would work as much as I needed.

"No. You go ahead and relax. Drop your meat off out back and then take it easy until supper. That's at six o'clock." Her smile was kind as she went back out to the desk.

I set up my meat for drying, glad to see I was the only one using it, and grabbed the rolled up hide to sell along with the hooves and whatnot. I had passed a tanners on the way here and figured I could sell them the stuff. I got a decent price for it all too. Not enough to get home, but I could save up more if I did a few odd jobs over the next few days until the meat dried. Hopefully it would be enough because I wanted to live to see home again.

Out of the shower I felt more human than I had in a very long time. I shaved my face from the days of stubble and I looked at my face in the mirror. Where had this person gone? I looked more my age instead of years older. I wasn't a huge catch but I would turn some heads. That thought made me sick. I didn't want to turn heads. I wanted to go home and live on the farm away from everyone else. I backed away from the mirror and dressed quickly. I should have kept the beard.

I hung the towel up in the room and stepped out back to look at the fading day. I was in a strange town without a single friend in the area and I was oddly at peace. No Amos around to make my waking hours hell and to even plague my sleeping ones with nightmares. No gunshots waking me for a combat situation. It was quiet...I missed this.

A mountain of a man entered the back gate. That had to be Brigid's husband. No smaller man could handle her. He was thickset around the waist, but it fit the rest of his enormous bulk. He wasn't fat so much as just plain old big. Beard with some gray, flannel shirt with no sleeves, jeans and huge boots, he carried a massive double headed ax. Something told me he wouldn't hurt a fly until provoked and only then would he be dangerous.

Trotting on his heels was a smaller, leaner version of the man. He was still beefy, but he would never be as big as his old man. Maybe nineteen, he was almost pretty, looking too much like his mama. I could still see the man in him though. The way he moved, mostly. Like a lumbering bear. "Howdy," said the man, "I'm Jessup. This is my boy Zeke. You must be Quintin." I stood up and shook his big mitt when he offered. He topped me by over a foot easily, but he didn't loom like some guys did.


"Brig get you all set up?" I nodded. "Ain't one for conversation?"

"Not much." I wasn't. Talking led to bonding and I didn't want that right now.

"Then skirt wide of Zeke. He never shuts up." The lad grinned and gave his old man a shove.

"Only because you encouraged me to talk when I was a kid. Not my fault your raised a chatterbox." I liked the sound of their voices. Big, rumbly, and gentle. "Don't let my Dad fool you. I can be quiet...if I can concentrate."

"Therein lies his problem. Go wash up for supper, Zeke. Your Mama will want some help in the kitchen with a guest here." The kid nodded to me as he went inside. "How long you staying?"

"Until I can either earn enough money for a bus ticket home or until it's obvious I ain't gonna be able to."

"Good philosophy. You got the look of a soldier." I nodded.

"US Army."


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