Shadow of The Wolfİ

Free Online Short Love Story

Written by American Author Sky Taylor

Snow Fairchild braved the bitter winds of the oncoming winter storm. The gray clouds billowing in the sky foretold of the impending storm's arrival several hours ago, directly after she'd arrived on the train in Babbling Brook, Texas.

With dusk pulling-in the daylight until the morrow she hoped that there was still a room available at the hotel. There had been a good number of travelers on the train who had disembarked at the station. Perhaps she'd spent too much time investigating the town, deciding if this town would be open to accepting her...

In note, perhaps she should consider returning east where her skills would be better-welcomed.

But before going to the hotel, she needed to collect a few personal items. Everything had happened so swiftly when she'd departed on her journey early this morning and she wasn't fully prepared for an overnight stay.

The chain of events had actually began many weeks ago and involved her beloved sick uncle. Being a doctor she had immediately rushed to him but the fever was stronger than medicine.

Although he was very old, his death was difficult to accept. And as she was the last of his living relatives, Snow had inherited everything her uncle had owned.

After his death, she sold his house and made plans to travel to Babbling Brook after hearing that the town was in desperate need of a doctor.

There would be challenges. Lady doctors weren't well-accepted in the West. She'd learned that lesson quite quickly when she'd traveled from the east coast to care for her uncle.

She suspected that the initial reaction would be resistance, but she felt she could gain the town's trust over time. Doctors - good doctors where few and far between in the west.

Snow picked up her steps, entering the warmth of the mercantile and delivering a sigh of relief. The wind held an icy bite and the warmth was welcome.

"Howdy, ma'am," the man behind the counter greeted her with a friendly voice. "I'm getting ready to close, so I'd appreciate it if you'd be quick about your business. Not to rush you, but I have an unexpected personal matter that requires my attention this evening."

"Yes, of course," she assured him, noting a look of concern etched across his face.

Snow continued to study him through the short distance. The man appeared to be in his early fifties, was well-groomed and had a polite manner about him. He was very tall with hair the color of hay strewn about his face. His appearance reminded her more of a broom than a human.

Quickly closing the distance, she approached the counter.

"By the way ma'am, I'm George - owner of the mercantile."

"It's nice to meet you, George."

There wasn't any time for further conversation as a big, burly man entered the mercantile making quick steps to the counter to address George.

"Well if it isn't Burl Hagen," George eased out, Snow stepping to one side and peering into the candy case. The licorice whips looked quite tempting; soft and fresh. But she really needed personal items to get her through the night. Then again, wasn't candy a personal item?

Her ears flared as George asked Burl in a rushed voice, "Is it true? The stories I'm hearing about you and the Cherokees?"

Snow was half-Cherokee but had a white complexion which she'd inherited from her Scandinavian mother, thus her interest in the conversation. She had not been aware of Cherokees in the area.

Both her mother and father had been gone several years, and now mother's brother had joined them, Snow contemplated as she listened to the man name Burl speak.

"Yep. Whole tribe sick with the fever. I barged in there - took their winter supply of food along with a buckboard full of handmade goods and four fine-looking Appaloosas. It was like taking candy from a baby," Burl laughed. "There was one brave that attempted to confront me, but he wasn't a match for me. A young one, not more than fifteen."

"Oh?" George inquired in a deadpan voice.

"He was guarding a teepee full of squaws and kids. He wasn't sick; neither were the squaws and kids. I spect he'll have a headache for a few days. Walloped him good," Burl laughed and Snow suddenly wanted to wallop him.

"Hum," George echoed and Snow couldn't tell by the mercantile owner's expression what he might be thinking. George didn't look very comfortable with the conversation; perhaps because he was anxious to close the store for the evening.

Burl continued, "After I secured the supplies and horses, I had a bit of fun with the Chief. They call him Siracco - big, tall Indian. I went into his teepee with plans to rough him up, too. But when I kicked him over, well - he was dead. So I thought, why waste energy on a corpse."

Snow gasped and asked, "You went inside the teepee, knowing they had the fever?"

Burl's black beady eyes roamed over her small form and he delivered a proud smile, jutting out his ample gut a bit further. "Well, hello little lady. And yeah - I did."

"You do realize that you've been exposed to the fever?" she emphasized, and he'd probably compromised the Indians' health which had been separated from those that were ill.

"Thanks for caring, but I can't get it - the fever," he clarified as he assured her. "I was exposed to it less than a week ago in Scottsdale. If I was going to get it, I would have it by now. I'm too tough for the fever, I'd say."

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