Chapter 19

Abel, being a crack shot, kills deer and rabbits, so we eat well, but our flour is getting low and butter is long gone, as are dried apples. When we run out of coffee, we head to the store.

“Somebody’s got to go down to a town for supplies,” he says as we go along. When we get to the store, where men hover about, he tells this to Fitch, the owner.

“Nobody wants to go,” says Fitch. “They’re all layabouts or drunk.”

“I’ll go,” says Abel. “You provide the money and a couple mules and I’ll ride my own down to Colfax. I’m not about to starve up here.”

“Fair enough,” declares Fitch. “When you want to go?”

“Now.”

In no time, we’re back at the cabin, where Abel makes ready. He gets his rifle and ammunition, throws socks and a couple biscuits into a sack, then gets the mule. I’m silent the whole time. Only when he’s about ready to leave does he turn to me. “You’ll have to cook for yourself a couple days. You’ll be fine.”