Only 06 - Winter Fire

snorted.
    â€œGal, where was your ears when I was talkin’ to you about sponges and vinegar and such?”
    Sarah looked up from her spinning. Whatever Lola saw in her eyes made the older woman grin. She pulled a small leather pouch out of her pants and dangled it in front of Sarah’s face.
    â€œRecollect this?” she taunted.
    The spindle fell idle. Sarah looked at the leather bag with haunted eyes.
    Don’t tease me into making you pregnant. I would hate both of us for it. Is that what you want?
    â€œWhat if it doesn’t work?” she whispered.
    â€œWhat if the sun don’t rise tomorrow?”
    â€œIs it certain?” Sarah asked stubbornly.
    â€œAin’t nothin’ certain except sin and death. It works better on some than on others.”
    â€œDid it work for you?”
    â€œI never whelped no kids. I caught a few times but none took. Then I never caught again. A lot of whores don’t.”
    With trembling fingers Sarah accepted the leather bag and tucked it into her pants pocket.
    â€œGood,” Lola said, nodding curtly. “Now we can stop walkin’ on eggs around Case. You recollect how to use them sponges?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIf you’re too dainty to tuck it up tight, tell him. He’s got nice long fingers.”
    â€œLola!” Sarah said, flushing scarlet.
    The older woman gave her a sly, gap-toothed grin.
    â€œWell, he does,” Lola said. “And don’t say you ain’t never noticed, neither.”
    Rather grimly Sarah picked up her spindle and went back to work.
    Lola emptied a bag of lustrous goat hair next to the chair and laughed all the way out of the cabin.
    â€œCornbread is burning,” she called from outside.
    Sarah leaped up and rescued the cornbread. She flipped it out of the pan and onto a rag to cool. Then she added more cornbread batter to the pan, stirred up the fire, and went back to spinning and wondering how she was going to go silver hunting when Case wouldn’t let her go alone and wouldn’t go with her.
    â€œMa’am?” called a voice from outside the cabin. “It’s Morgan and Hunter. If you’ll just pass out some cornbread and beans, we won’t bother you.”
    Hastily she set aside her spinning and opened the door.
    Hunter and Morgan took off their hats. Both men were freshly washed and shaved.
    She smiled.
    â€œIt’s no bother at all,” she said. “Come in and sit down. I’ll get your breakfast.”
    â€œNo need,” Morgan said. “We’re used to rustling grub for ourselves.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself,” Hunter said. “I’ve become accustomed to a high order of cooking in the past few months.”
    Morgan’s teeth flashed in a clean white smile.
    â€œElyssa is spoiling you like a Christmas puppy,” he said to Hunter.
    The other man grinned and didn’t disagree.
    Rather wistfully Sarah looked at Hunter’s smile.
    Did Case look like that before little Emily died ? she asked herself. A smile as warm as summer .
    â€œI’m afraid you won’t get much in the way of cooking here,” she said. “Cornbread, cornmeal mush, peppers andbeans, and whatever some critter hasn’t eaten of the vegetables I put in the cellar.”
    â€œSounds like heaven to me,” Morgan said fervently.
    Hunter winked at her.
    â€œDon’t mind Morgan,” he said. “He’s just practicing for the girl who’s waiting for him back in Texas.”
    â€œSome might need practice,” Morgan retorted. “I don’t.”
    Smiling, Sarah set out two battered tin plates, filled two tin cups with water from a pitcher, and began ladling out beans.
    â€œYou still have some coffee in your saddlebags?” Hunter asked Morgan.
    â€œYessuh! Excuse me, ma’am. Put a pot on to boil and I’ll be back before you miss me.”
    â€œCoffee?” she asked, not sure she had heard correctly. “You brought coffee with you?”
    â€œYes’m,” Morgan said. “We never stopped long enough to cook it on the way here.”
    â€œBetter stand guard over it with a shotgun,” she called as Morgan vanished. “We haven’t had coffee since Ute traded some moccasins and cloth over at Spanish Church.”
    Hunter’s mouth flattened at the name of the saloon where his brother had almost died.
    â€œSomebody ought to clean out that den of snakes,”