A Shelter of Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

could work out a great deal of anxiety and frustration on a lump of dough, she had decided. And she found she had a knack for producing light, fluffy biscuits and golden, crusty loaves of bread that made one’s mouth water just catching a whiff of the aroma in the air.
    Simone thought for a moment, then reached for some flour. They would have biscuits tonight. She liked to cut them out and float them atop the stew to bake and brown as the stew cooked. It made a tasty treat that both warmed the body and stuck to the ribs. And it required very little attention on Simone’s part.
    Leaning against the single window in their cabin, Simone stared out on the landscape and wondered if her life would ever be different. She found it easy to maintain a stoic reserve in regard to her welfare. She knew nothing else, although she’d heard stories of cities in other places and of people in beautiful clothes riding in carriages. But Simone had done such a good job of keeping her emotions in check that she couldn’t even muster enough imagination to contemplate the possibilities of such a life. Her one and only concession was to consider Naniko’s suggestion that being alone wasn’t good for anyone. But even here, Simone kept a close guard on her heart. Naniko’s friendship had been a welcomed and wonderful thing when Simone’s mother had first left her, but Simone was no fool. She saw the aged woman’s health begin to fail and knew that death would not be far behind. Realizing that, Simone had begun a systematic effort to wean her affections away from Naniko. She never again wanted to feel the pain of losing someone she cared about, and the only way to accomplish that feat seemed to be simple: Don’t care about anyone.
    She started to turn from the window but movement in the trees caught her attention. Far down the path that led to the Dumas cabin, Simone could make out the figures of two men on horseback. One was clearly her father, but the other man was a stranger. Simone watched for a moment longer, then gave a shudder. They’d no doubt drink and carry on until all hours of the night, leaving Simone little choice but to seek solace in the pelt shed. The only problem was, her father had just sold off his pelts. The shed would be cold and comfortless.
    Thinking on this, Simone went quickly to a small trunk and pulled out her one pair of woolen stockings. They had been darned and mended many times, but they were still warm. Pulling these on and securing them with a garter, Simone dug into the trunk again and pulled out pantalets. They had once belonged to her mother and Simone seldom found a need to wear them, but thinking of the freezing temperatures and a night in the pelt shed, Simone pulled them on as well and relished the added warmth. She slipped on her knee-high moccasins and was just finishing up the laces when she heard her father’s voice in the yard outside the cabin.
    “You can see for yourself,” he said in his bellowing way, “the shed is there. Just beyond is a creek with clear water and plenty of fish. Oh, and berries so juicy you’ll thank the Maker for such sweetness.”
    Simone wondered at this tour of the property. Her father seemed quite happy, and yet she knew he’d left in a fit of frustration and anger. The pelts were substandard, he had told her, and he was certain to be cheated out of a fair price. Simone had fully expected him to drink himself into oblivion and sleep it off in Uniontown. Maybe even stay with Ada at the Red Slipper Saloon. Yet here he stood, waving his arms in different directions, preaching of the merits of his land and holdings. What could it mean?
    Simone went again to the window and, without revealing herself to the men outside, peeked out. They both still sat astride their horses and, to her relief, faced away from the house. The man with her father was a shorter, stockier man with a grizzled look to him. She watched as the men walked their horses in a lazy circle around the