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washed. The lantern light showed the gaping windows didn't truly gape since they had been covered in plastic. A rough cabin, but not as rough as it had looked at first glance. |
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Chris gave D.J. a little push. She looked at him with a frown marring the bridge of her nose, her mind still focused on the mystery of the cleaned cabin. "Inside, D.J." He indicated the direction with his head. "I'm cold. And my rear end is getting mighty wet out on this porch." |
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"Oh, yeah. Sorry." She stepped further into the cabin and set the lantern on the kitchen table. The wooden structure had been made by hand, heavy and sturdy, crafted roughly but well. Furniture wrought by the same hand peopled the cabin. The quilts and pillows on the bed and couch were also handmade, by another hand. The cabin spoke of the two people who had lived there long ago. |
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Chris closed the door. His fingers searched for but didn't find a lock. But why would there be a lock out here, where the most dangerous predators feared man more than man feared them? Or at least such had been the case until Rich Halloran had invaded the forest. Chris turned away from the door with a shrug. If Halloran and his thugs found them here, they'd need more than a locked wooden door to keep the five men out. |
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He glanced up to find D.J. staring at the room as if in a trance. She turned in a slow circle as she spoke. "The other times I came here the place stood abandoned. Dirty. Animals living inside. I couldn't understand how anyone could be happy here. As happy as they must have been for my father to fall |
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