"Dammed its hot out here," she thought to herself as she stood on the porch of the small log cabin and looked up the valley toward the Old Baldy mountain.
It wasn't uncommon to hit the low 90s, this time of year, even up here in the Willow Creek valley, but that didn't make it any more enjoyable. She could see the snow that hung on the tops of the high mountains year round and for a moment she longed for winter, but the thought passed quickly when she remembered the hardships of the long snow season.
Her name was Angel Davis and she was 41 years old and wore her age on her face from the many years of living and working the Rocking D ranch here in the valley. Despite her age, she was still a beautiful woman with long flowing auburn hair, but it was a beauty in a rugged sort of way.
She wore a plain calico dress, but it couldn't hide the trim waist, large breasts, and shapely hips it hid beneath its brown fabric. Her features were strong and in her younger days she was quite the beauty, but that was many years ago and now she was older her beauty mostly came from the inside, but not all of it.
She stepped down off the porch and made her way up the dusty trail toward the barn that sat on a little hill not far from the cabin. She could see the horses in the corral watching her make her way up the hill and she knew they were waiting to be fed.
Making her way to the barn door she pulled it open and walked into to the stifling heat of the shut up barn as if it were a furnace. Moving to the back as she walked passed the racks holding various saddles and other tack on one side and the empty stalls on the other.
At the rear of the barn was a wooden ladder leading up to the hay loft and she climbed it and stepped out into the loose hay piled in the loft. Making her way across the loft she approached the door leading outside, lifting the latch, she gave the door a shove and as it swung open she looked down at the six horses looking up at her.
Grabbing a pitch fork that leaned against the wall, she began to fork hay down between them as they moved to start eating. When she was done, she replaced the pitch fork and then sat down in the door and let her feet hang out as she watched the horses feeding.
Glancing down the valley she noticed the slight color changes in the many Quaker trees that grew here and thought to herself it seemed a bit early, perhaps it was a sign of and early fall and a break from the heat.
Then she noticed the dust in the distance, someone was coming up the road. This was worth noting because the Rocking D wasn't an easy ranch to get to and lied ten miles from the nearest town so visitors weren't very common here, especially since her husband had been killed.
She quickly made her way out of the barn and down to the cabin. Pushing the door open she crossed the small space that made up the living room and kitchen and took the old Henry rifle off its pegs in the wall. Checking to make sure it was loaded she moved back to the door and she leaned it against the wall just out of sight from the outside.
She didn't fear strangers, but it was always better to play it safe than to take a chance and wish she had.
Stepping back out on the porch, she closed the door most of the way and made her way to her rocker that sat on the small porch. Setting down, she glanced down the road and could now make out that it was a wagon pulled by two horses that was slowly working its way toward her.
Fifteen minutes later she watched as it entered through the gate and made its way up toward the house. She could now make out two people setting in the seat, one a man and the other a woman. As it approached the house the man pulled back on the reins and brought the horses to a stop less than twenty feet from her.
The man was older and looked to be in his late fifties to early sixties and the woman seated next to him was small and young and looked to be eighteen or nineteen.
They didn't at all look dangerous and in fact had a down trodden appearance to them and they both had a weary look on their face. Feeling more comfortable now that she didn't sense trouble Angel stood up and with a smile said" Howdy, don't get many visitors out this way, is there something I can help you with?"
"Yes maam" said the man," My name is Stewart Blythe and this is my nineteen year old granddaughter Eve, I was told by the shopkeeper in town you might have some work and could be hiring."
The shopkeeper in town was Chancy and was one of the only friends she had left, if he sent them out to see her, she knew they had earned his trust; he wouldn't send just anyone out to where she lived alone.
"Yes Mr. Blythe I am indeed looking for a man to help me, it's a big ranch and at the moment I am all alone with haying to do and wood to cut for the winter."
Looking them both over she decided that he looked fit enough to work and the young woman could help her around the house and barn.
"Before I give you my answer Mr. Blythe may I ask what brings you folks to this part of the country?"
"Well miss that's a long story but I don't mind telling you" he said then started "Eve and her parents and I were in a wagon train heading east to Oregon when we stopped just north of here on the little Smokey river for the night." Pausing, he then continued "not long after making camp Eve and I walked down to the river with some buckets to fetch some water when we heard gunshots back at camp."
"Not knowing what was going on I found a place in the willows for Eve and I to hide and we stayed there until the shooting stopped plus maybe a half an hour more."
"I left Eve hidden and I snuck back to camp only to find everyone dead, including my son and his wife." With a catch in his voice he said "it was the Sioux and they had scalped everyone, not one person was left unmarred."
"Not knowing if they would return I grabbed two horses and went back to Eve and we made our way through the dark night to Chancyvill." He had to stop for a moment and Angel noticed that Eve had tears running down her young face
"The next day Chancy and a couple other town folk went with me out to bury the dead and gather our wagon. That was a week ago yesterday and Eve and I decided we had lost our will to find another wagon train and continue east, that's when Chancy told me about you."
Angel's heart ached for them and she could see Eve was softly sobbing as her granddad patted her leg.
"Mr. Blythe...
He cut her off and said "Please miss call me Stew."
"Fair enough Stew then you can drop the miss and call me Angel, why don't you folks get down and come into the house and we will discuss the job."
As Eve climbed down from the wagon she made her way towards the door, but as she passed Angel reached out and pulled her to her and hugged her tightly. Eve laid her head on Angels shoulder and the tears poured out of her as she cried and cried.
Stew watched his granddaughter pour out her heart and a small tear ran down his cheek. As he walked by them toward the house he reached out and patted Angel softly on the back.