He caught her elbow, his grip firm. "Stay with me," he said. They walked into the store. The warmth hit them first, then the smell, spices, leather, sawdust, and the sweat of unwashed bodies. The store was crowded.
Jonah moved through the crowd with the fluidity of water. Parting the sea of rough coats and broad backs, he kept Millie on his left side, shielding her from the room. He moved to the counter. The shopkeeper was a new man, not the one who had overcharged him before. This one was younger with slicked back hair and eyes that darted around the room like nervous minnows.
"Sack of flour," Jonah said, his voice flat. "10 lb of beans, coffee, and I need salve for a wound. " The shopkeeper looked at Jonah, taking in the scarred face and the mountain dress. Then his eyes slid to Millie. he squinted, trying to peer past the scarf and the oversized coat. "Who is the boy? " the shopkeeper asked. Jonah did not blink.
"My business. Get the goods. " The shopkeeper hesitated, bristling slightly at the tone, but he turned to the shelves while his back was turned. A woman in a bonnet standing near the fabric bolts leaned toward her companion. She did not whisper quietly enough. "That is him," she hissed. the savage who bought the death cabin.
Who is he with? The other woman asked. Some runaway likely or a [ __ ]? He picked up. You know how those mountain men are animals?
Millie flinched. It was a small movement, a tightening of her jaw, but Jonah felt it. The insult was not new to him. He had been called worse things by better people. But seeing it land on Millie felt like swallowing nails.
He shifted his weight, putting his back to the women, blocking them from her view. He made himself a wall. The shopkeeper returned with the supplies and a tin of carbolic salve. That will be $8, the man said. Jonah put the money on the counter.
He did not argue the price. He just wanted to be gone. As they turned to leave, the door opened and the winter light was blocked by a large shape. Sheriff Cable stood there. He was a thickset man with a mustache that hid his mouth and eyes that looked like wet stones.
He wore a badge that gleamed in the dim light and a coat with a fur collar that looked too expensive for a lawman's salary. He stopped, his gaze landing on Jonah. A slow smile spread under the mustache, but it did not reach his eyes. "Jonah Crow," the sheriff said. His voice was rich and oily.
I heard you were still up there. I had a bet with the deputy that you had frozen to death by now. Jonah did not smile. Sheriff. The sheriff's eyes drifted past Jonah and landed on Millie.
He studied the buffalo coat, the scarf, the small boots peeking out from the hem. "And who is this? " Sheriff Cable asked. He took a step closer, invading their space. Jonah stepped sideways, placing himself directly in the sheriff's path. My partner, Jonah said, "Partner," the sheriff repeated.