Raw and unedited as usual. Not the main story line but interesting I hope.
Jonathan was sitting by the stove, sharpening his ax. It was warm now, almost too warm, because he’d been able to cut some limbs and deadfall finally to feed the stove extravagantly. The snow was receding around the chalet and the slope behind them. It was still deep in the shadows and on the north side of the hill across from them.
In the last three days he felled seven trees and trimmed the limbs from two of them. Six of them he got to fall pretty much up-slope and he hoped to drag them down most of the way to the cabin with a cable and a come-along. The one that didn’t fall right was slotted between standing timber, and he might just leave it for now until warm weather and cut it up in place.
The ragged snarl of the vuvuzela actually made him jump, but then smile. He still looked downhill carefully with the binoculars from further back in the living room, not showing himself at the window. There were three horses down at the bottom of their meadow, it would never be a lawn again he suspected. He’d emptied an old washtub that had been used as a flower pot, but the bottom was rusted through so he hung it as a gong. However, Victor Foy was smart to use the horn. That told him they had visitors and who.
Jonathan was concerned with the size of the party until he looked closer. The second horse held a thin man with a beard. But the third horse held a woman and young girl, which helped him relax. Then with a start he focused the binoculars with extra care. It was their daughter.
Looking back at the bearded man he decided that it could be his son-in-law. But bearded and forty of fifty pounds lighter he sure looked different. The fellow had already started on a middle aged paunch early the last time he’d seen him. He had a pistol stuck in his pants on one side and a pair of bulky tan gloves on the other. Jon doubted he’d ever touched a pistol before the day, and he was too dainty back then to do anything that need gloves. Both horses had some baggage lashed on across their rump , and when his horse got nervous and side stepped a little Jon saw he had a small backpack.
“It’s Cindy,” Jon confirmed to his wife Jenny who’d joined him in the living room. I think it’d safe to walk down with me if you want.”
“Why don’t you just wave them to come on up?” Jenny asked.
“Sure, that makes sense,” Jonathan said, embarrassed he’d grow so cautious.
Victor might have been of a like mind, because he had Cindy, with their daughter Eileen sitting in front of her, lead the way up the gentle slope to the chalet. They tied the horses up on the porch railing and Vic took the precaution of hobbling them in case they pulled that loose.
Jenny hugged the woman and girl too overcome with emotion to speak.