“Let me see that wound.”
The handsome young fellow with a scraggly, days-old beard, stared at me through sunken, wild eyes. “Who…?”
“Someone who can help.” I turned to the woman. “You say you’re out of food and fuel?” When she nodded, I told her we’d go to my farm where I had plenty of both. “Do you have horses?”
“Wolves got them.” The man’s voice strengthened with outrage.
“How about rackets…snowshoes?” The woman shook her head. I sat down on the hearth and removed mine. “Get some clothes and anything else you need. Then we’ll strap these on you. Your husband’s going to need our help. It’s only a mile, but it’s a long mile in this snow. Do you have weapons?”
“A rifle and a six-gun.” The woman was beginning to recover.
“Get them. They’ll be extra weight, but we might need them. Tie all your ammunition in a shawl or something. Make a pack of your spare clothing and blankets and fasten it to my back.”