I see a light. Men crowded to the windows and door. Through the rain. A lantern bobbed like a will-o'-the-wisp. Then another.
And another. Open the door. Someone yelled. They're coming in. The wind nearly tore the door from its hinges when they opened it.
Four figures stumbled through. Bill and Frank, supported between Jake and Hank. All four were so covered in mud they looked like earth golems come to life. Blankets, Jake ordered his voice. Hot water.
Bill's got a gash on his leg. Margaret flew into action. Within minutes, she had the injured man on the table. His leg cleaned and examined. The cut was deep but clean.
A branch or rock had caught him when his horse fell. She stitched it carefully while Jake held the lantern. His own exhaustion evident in the way he swayed. "You need to sit, " she told him firmly. "Tom, get your boss some coffee before he falls over.
" "I'm fine, " Jake protested. But he sank onto the bench when Tom pushed him down. Margaret finished with Bill, bandaging the wound tightly. Keep it clean and dry. You were lucky.
No damage to the muscle. Lucky? Frank laughed shakily. Ma'am, we'd be dead if Jake hadn't found us. Couldn't see 5 ft in that rain.
We'd taken shelter under some rocks, but the water was rising. Would have drowned for sure. Enough talk, Margaret said briskly. But her eyes found Jake across the room. Everyone needs food and rest.
The next hour was controlled chaos as she fed the exhausted men, distributed dry clothes from the rag bag, and tried to create sleeping spaces for everyone. Through it all, she was aware of Jake watching her, a strange expression on his mud streaked face. Finally, when the last cowboy was settled, she approached him. He sat alone at the table, coffee growing cold in his hands. "You should rest, " she said softly.
In a moment, he looked up at her. You did well tonight. This kitchen, it was exactly what the men needed. A safe harbor. It's just food and warmth.