Summit of the Wolf (15 page)

Bill hopped from the buggy and sauntered around the house, yelling out Roy’s name, to no answer. “Well, he still lives here, I can promise you that. He runs cattle and he’s probably out with them, is all.” He hoisted himself onto the wagon seat and tipped his hat. “I wish you well, miss, but I’m losing daylight. That old coot won’t mind a bit if you just went on in there and made yourself at home.”

She reached for her small coin purse. “At least let me pay you for your troubles.”

He waved her off and slapped the reins against the backs of the two horse team. “No need.”

“Thank you,” she sang out with a wave but if he heard her, he didn’t show it.

When she opened the door to the cabin, a hundred memories from childhood assaulted her. Every piece of furniture seemed to be in the same place. The small oval dining table was surrounded by four ladder backed chairs and the deep slate sink that took up most of the kitchen still boasted the same old hand pump. The small bookcase had not moved from the shadow of the stone fireplace and the faded floral curtains Mother had hung lifted lazily in the breeze from the open window. Even the smell of bacon grease and yeast bread seemed familiar.

A smile curved her lips. There, beyond the front porch and yard lay the prairie grass so tall it would tickle her waist if she had a mind to stand in it. She’d imagined this a thousand times.
Home.