Only 04 - Only Love

to Plato.”
    Cherokee snorted. “I seen that trunk o’ yours stuffed with books. Waste of time, all of them, ’less they talk about herbs and such.”
    “In winter there’s lots of time to spare.”
    “It ain’t natural not to talk to folks.”
    “Oh, I talk all the time to myself and Prettyface,” Shannon said.
    “Sensible. Leastwise you get a smart answer from one of you. Ain’t saying which one, though.”
    Smiling, Shannon checked the water she had put on the stove. It was heating nicely.
    “How about some willow-bark tea?” Shannon asked.
    Cherokee grimaced. “Blasted stuff. Tastes like the bottom of hell’s own slops bucket.”
    “It would make your ankle feel better.”
    “Slops.”
    Ignoring Cherokee’s muttering, Shannon went to a battered wooden chest and lifted the lid. A complex, herbal aroma drifted up to her nose. The willow bark was easy to identify and not hard to administer. Other herbs were more chancy to use.
    A few were frankly deadly. Shannon knew which they were. She avoided even touching them.
    While Shannon made the tea, Cherokee reached under the bed and dragged out a battered canvas bag. She reached inside and pulled out a small, tissue-wrapped parcel. Saying nothing, she sat back on the bed. Her gnarled, scarred hand rested lightly on the parcel, as though it was a beloved pet.
    When Shannon brought the medicinal tea to Cherokee, the old woman ignored the battered metal mug and looked Shannon straight in the eye.
    “We got to talk,” Cherokee said bluntly. “No two ways about it. You’re a widow.”
    “You can’t be certain of that.”
    “The hell I can’t. I prayed over his grave.”
    Shannon’s eyes widened. “What?”
    “Autumn, it were. Night sky like God watching me, and that poor old mule all bloodied and wornfrom running down the creek.”
    Shannon’s breath froze in her lungs. Cherokee had never talked about how she found Razorback. She had just brought the mule to Silent John’s cabin, told Shannon that like as not Silent John would be late coming off his claims that year, and she better start rustling grub for herself.
    Then Cherokee had said that her true name was Teresa, so Shannon didn’t need to fear asking her for help if she needed it.
    “You never told me,” Shannon whispered.
    Cherokee didn’t even pause. “I patched up the mule and set out at dawn to backtrack. Trail ended in hell’s own landslide. I assumed it was Silent John’s grave.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “No point,” she said tersely. “If I’m wrong, Silent John turns up in the fall. If I’m right, and word gets out, every man in Echo Basin goes to howling around your cabin. No good to come of that. A man with a stiff pecker ain’t no more trustworthy than a rabid skunk.”
    Shannon tried to speak. No words came.
    “An’ what good would telling you do?” Cherokee asked. “The passes was already closed, so you couldn’t leave nohow. Your cupboards was full. You was safer up here than anywheres, long as no one knew Silent John was dead. So I just shut my mouth and kept it shut.”
    When Shannon tried to speak, only an odd sound came out.
    Red appeared on Cherokee’s weathered cheek-bones.
    “I shoulda told you ’fore now,” the old woman muttered, “but I get…lonesome. It ain’t like you had a family all pining and sighing for your company. Towns and such just ride roughshod over pretty young things like you. You was better off here, but if you knew Silent John was dead, I feared you’d up and leave.”
    “This is my home. I won’t leave it.”
    “But I was wrong to keep you here,” Cherokee said, ignoring Shannon’s words. “Purely selfish. My conscience stings me real good when I thing on it. I was going to tell you real soon and give you money to—”
    “No,” Shannon cut in.
    Cherokee muttered under her breath. Then she straightened her shoulders.
    “Things is changed, now,” the old woman said flatly. “You got to leave.”
    “Why? Just because I know what I’ve suspected for the last two years, that Silent John is dead?”
    “You got to git out of Echo Basin, and Whip is—”
    “Why should I leave the basin?” Shannon interrupted. “It’s the only home I have.”
    “You can’t survive alone in that cabin, that’s why.”
    “I’ve done it so far.”
    Cherokee grunted. “Silent John had enough food to feet three with some left over. You ate the leftovers the second winter and bought more. But not enough more. Look