Snow

Silas grabbed hold of his rifle, taking aim, overcome then with the old instincts of a soldier. His ears still rung with the sound of lead shredding up the trunk of that massive old pine, and his eyes darted back and forth, searching for any movement in the eerie white stillness. For a long while he stood there, watching his breath collect in front of him, his eyes blinking back the savage cold.

"Hey! I ain't no deer...or no bear...so quit your shootin' now...it's just me and my dog out here!"

Silas called out into the dense sprawl of quiet white pines. His eyes finally settled on a small figure coming toward him, trudging steadily through the powdery mounds. Dressed in brown woolen trousers and a grey, button-down coat, the figure looked distinctly male from a distance. He lowered his gun a bit when he saw it was just a boy.

"Hey, boy...you damn near took my head off. You outta watch your aim." Silas scratched at his face, waiting for some kind of response. He rubbed at the rough, week-old beard he'd been too lazy to shave, and watched as the bundled up figure came ever closer.

"And you outta learn how to duck..." The voice that called back to him was small and honey-sweet, and he realized then he'd been near shot to death by a young girl. "This here's free huntin' land, so if you ain't lookin' to collect your dinner...you best take a stroll elsewhere."

Breathing quick like a little brown rabbit, she halted about twenty feet from him, looking warily down at his gun. "You ain't gonna shoot me, are you?"

Silas found himself all tongue-tied and red-faced, and he slung his rifle back over his shoulder in one quick motion that told her she was in the clear. Since he'd taken on the job as caretaker for old man Riley, he hadn't once been in the company of a woman. It'd been nearly six months, and it seemed he was out of practice. Speaking to women had never been his strong suit to begin with.

"Storm's comin' in quick..." She came in closer, looking up at the winter sky, and when she stood just a few feet from him, she pulled off her floppy brimmed hat, revealing a thick tangle of chestnut hair and red cheeks that were all flushed up from the cold. Her eyes were the strangest shade of ochre, the lightest brown mixed up with yellow. They shone golden in the dull, grey light of early evening, and he realized he was staring as she spoke again. "And I guess you can tell... I ain't no boy."

As he looked on at her clear, smooth face, Silas was struck by an odd wave of familiarity. He took a minute, knowing that he'd seen those eyes before, he just couldn't place where, and suddenly, it came to him. She was Jasper Sherman's youngest daughter, Francis. He'd courted her older sister, Mae eight years back. Francis had been just a girl then, but those remarkable eyes of hers were rare gems, something a man didn't come across every day, and didn't easily forget.

He felt uneasy, wondering if she recognized him, for he'd never gone back to the Sherman farm after that sweltering day in August. He'd never seen Mae's courtship through. He remembered watching Mae's eyes light on Mason Pritchard, who'd been whole and beautiful and without flaw, and he'd never looked back. He'd known all along that Mae hadn't been the girl for him, but the pickings in those small farm towns had been slim, and at the time, she'd been the easiest path toward finding himself a bride. Such a long time had passed since then, and living up in the mountains had made it seem that part of his life hadn't happened at all. For the first time since the war, Silas was finally content.

He pulled off his thick woolen hat, and a shock of bitter air hit the warm crown of his head. It felt good and he let out a deep sigh, smoothing down his messy, straw-colored hair. He saw a flicker of light come up in her pretty eyes as she watched him, and a brief moment of disbelief crossed her ivory face before she straightened herself out again.

"I know you. You were up at my daddy's farm a long time ago. You were after my sister, Mae." She gave him a bold little smile.

Silas did his best to avoid her eyes.

"So I was. What're you doin' up in these woods all by yourself? Matter of fact, what're you doin' in West Virginia at all?" He was fishing around, trying to change the subject to something other than Mae.

"What's it look like?" She held up four pheasants hung upside down with their tongues hanging out. They were hooked onto a sturdy shaft of wire and they were pristine, a clean shot gone right through the chest. "Looks like the same thing as you...'cept it appears I'm better at it."

She looked down at his one bird. He hadn't had the best of luck since the snow had started in hard. At first, the squall had driven into his face like a thousand tiny knives, but it'd eased off some, coming down gently in big, cold flakes the size of quarter dollars.

"Well, I ain't been out but an hour..." Silas gave her a bashful smile, showing all his big white teeth.

"Likely story. I'm Franny, by the way. You remember me, don't you? I can tell."

Franny marveled at the change eight years could bring. He'd been just a skinny boy of twenty-two when she'd last laid eyes on him. He stood there solid and all filled out, like he'd been eating plenty of meat and potatoes. She remembered him as baby-faced and clean shaven, nothing like the grown man who stood before her. He had a dirty blonde scruff along his jaw and above his warm mouth, and there were the faintest little lines at the corners of his brown eyes.

"I reckon I remember. You're Jasper Sherman's youngest girl." Silas watched her pretty eyes for a moment, drinking in all her natural beauty. She'd grown into a lovely young woman, just as he'd suspected she would.

"I am indeed."

"So, how'd you end up in these mountains? You're a long way from home." He pulled his brows in close together, feeling a bit struck at their chance meeting in the middle of nowhere. It was strange and almost nostalgic seeing her again. His mind went back to her red apple sitting pretty in his deep palm.

"I ran away."

"You ran away? All on your own?"

"Yeah...what of it?" Franny set the butt of her gun up on her slim shoulder, looking to take aim at a flock of pecking birds in the distance.

"Suppose I just never met a girl who lit out all on her own."

"Sure you have...you're lookin' at her." Franny glanced over and gave him a playful smile, and Silas was taken with her then, that bold and brassy girl with the goldenrod eyes.

"Where you stayin'?" He asked it without thinking, not able to hide his curiosity over her.

"Lars Ingram and his wife, Astrid took me in. I'm their boarder."

"I know the Ingrams. They's good people." Silas looked down, moving the snow around under his boots.

"Can't complain...though Astrid's always naggin' at me to act proper and such." Just saying those words put a little smirk on her face.

"So, what made you hop that train out here? And don them boy clothes?" Silas couldn't help but laugh just a little.

"Well...my daddy, bastard that he is...he was fixin' to marry me off to Wallace Cobb...that hog farmer's son. The big dumb one. Well, just to be clear..." Franny cocked her rifle, still steady on the hunt. "I ain't got nothin' against hog farmers...or even big dumb boys, for that matter. But, Wallace Cobb was a little heavy on the cleaver for my taste. The pleasure he got outta killin' them hogs made me think I was gonna be next if I didn't behave myself..."

Franny pulled the trigger on her old Winchester, sending the flock to dart out spooked in every direction. All except for one that lay still in the snow.

"...and I never behave myself." She looked over at Silas then, blowing hard at the tip of her smoking gun when she lowered it, and a rascal's smile bloomed up big and naughty on her full red mouth.

~~~~~~~~~

They walked for a time, meandering down the hill with their dinner in hand, watching the snow collect around their boots. They cut a path through the cold white landscape, their four footprints marking the way as they watched old Sam rifle around. He sniffed at pine cones and fallen branches, wagging his tale all the while. Franny walked slowly beside Silas, taking care not to call attention to his slight limp.

"So, what are you doin' so far up in these woods, Silas Freeman?"

"I live just a stone's throw past them trees...right at the edge of that clearing." He pointed to a tiny, tumble-down cabin in the distance with a skiff of black smoke curling up from its stone chimney.

"That little log house? I'll be...I musta passed by there a hundred times now. I thought that crotchety ol' man lived up there."

"He did 'till this past autumn. I used to hunt food for him...chop his firewood and such. When he died, I never expected him to leave me the house. His daughter was scary angry about it too. The dagger eyes she gave me...I thought for sure I was done in. I think she planned on living there with her new husband, them being just wed and all. But, I reckon I did more for that old man than she ever done. He was mean as a grizzly, though. I gotta admit that." Silas let out a little belly laugh.

"You ever find yourself a girl?" Franny looked over at his warm brown eyes laced with flecks of green in the falling light.

"Can't say I did...but I'm content with all that now. Reckon I don't mind the solitude." Silas looked down at his boots. Part of that was true, but he couldn't quite set aside all the nights he'd lay awake, his body hot with yearning. He was still a young man, and with that came the craving for a young woman.

"Ain't no shame in solitude. Tell you one thing...the man I marry, if I marry at all, is gonna have to let me fly. I ain't gonna be no one's caged bird. And he'd have to own a good plot of land for a garden, not big or nothin'...just good soil...so I could grow my herbs. I'm an apothecary of sorts." Franny watched his rough jaw and his long, light lashes that caught the snow.

"Is that right? An apothecary? Mixin' up witches' brew?" Silas couldn't keep from teasing her. He was smitten with her gypsy spirit, and the fearless way she handled a gun. It made him wonder how she might handle a coarse, backcountry man like himself. He couldn't help but imagine those restless little paws of hers working him up and down.

"I ain't no witch! But I can mix you up somethin' for that broken heart of yours..." Franny was quiet and careful, treading lightly. She could barely contain her curiosity over him. He was so quiet and introverted, while she was the kind who wore her heart on her sleeve. The way he'd cut ties with Mae so quickly had made Silas Freeman a mystery to her. He'd crossed her mind more than once through the years.

"It's real simple to mix up. Pink rose, hawthorn, bleeding heart, apple blossom, hot spring water and blackberry brandy." She counted the ingredients on her gloved fingers as they walked.

"And who says my heart needs mendin'?" Silas kicked at the soft white powder that blanketed the trail in front of him. He felt transparent then, like somehow, Franny Sherman could see right through his skin.

"A girl who might need a good long drink of her own elixir..." Franny felt him glance over at her with a puzzled look on his face.

"You tryin' to say you had a lover? Ain't you a bit young for all that? And unmarried?" His voice was over-eager and ripe with wonder.

"Too young? I'm twenty years old! And I ain't ashamed to say I trusted the wrong man, that I believed all his lies and his sweet talk, and that he cast me aside soon as he got what he wanted. I might be damaged goods, but I don't regret that none. Least it was an adventure...and I was doin' somethin' other than sittin' in my little room stitchin' needlepoint pillows, waitin' for some weddin' night that might never come."

Franny reached down and scooped up a glove full of wet snow, balling it up before she threw it out clean. It hit a crooked old tree trunk dead on, drawing a white, rounded face on its bark.

"And just so you know, my sister Mae did marry Mason Pritchard...against my advice, I might add. I was the only one outta all my sisters who got a sick stomach just lookin' at that boy. I was only twelve years old but I knew well enough he was gonna turn her black and blue. And what do you know? It only took a month for him to paint her face with bruises and welts. She still never admits to him doin' it, though. She's always been a fool like that. So, I guess she made her own bed." Franny looked over at Silas as he peeled back a stretch of bark from a stray branch he'd grabbed up. He went quiet and thoughtful as they trudged along, and Franny wondered if Mae ever felt remorse for not choosing him, the oddly handsome, soft-spoken man who walked beside her in the snow. "Bet that bit of news comes as a welcome surprise...the way she acted all snot-nosed toward you."

Silas's head spun around with all the ghosts of his past. It seemed they'd all come back to haunt him. Still, he didn't wish anyone ill, especially Mae, for he'd never really fancied her anyhow. Looking back on it, she'd done him a favor, snubbing him the way she had.

"I never wished Mae any harm, Franny. You should know that. And someone needs to string that boy up by his toes, if you ask me." He smiled over at her pretty eyes and she smiled back.

He was so kind and sweet-tempered, and for some reason, that brought out the wild in her. She had the urge to bring him to a halt right there in the middle of the woods, to unbutton those tattered wool trousers and put his stiff part right into her slippery little mouth. She wanted to suck him clean right there in the falling snow, but she didn't, she just walked alongside him, keeping space between their two warm bodies.

"You got a fire goin' up at that little log house of yours? A fire sounds real good right now. It's comin' down in buckets." Franny opened her mouth, her little pink tongue peeking out so she could catch the snowflakes on it, and Silas wanted to stroke his own warm tongue against hers. He wanted to taste all of her delicious heat in the chill of the air.

Instead, he watched as she pulled herself up onto a gnarly stone wall that ran aged and warped along the length of the winding trail. She walked along the jutting fieldstones like a little monkey, holding her arms out for balance, her heavy brown boots steady and sure. Franny looked down at him with a smile, thinking of his big hands and all the tender places that she was going to let him touch.

"I threw on a few logs 'fore I set out earlier. I was plannin' on grabbin' up some more wood though when I got back."

"You gonna make me a warm fire, quiet man? You gonna warm me up?" Just saying those words made a sweet ache come up between Franny's legs. She watched as Silas's face went hungry and bashful all at the same time. His eyes touched hers for a moment and she could tell that he was filled with a shy uncertainty.

At first, he didn't know what to think of all her forward talk. He finally decided that Franny Sherman must be getting a hoot out of teasing a lonely, rough-edged man like himself. At thirty years old, he was ten years her senior, and that fact alone made him doubt she'd want to open her legs to him. He reckoned she was on the lookout for a spirited young boy who would give her that garden, one who could run alongside her in the forest and turn up their plot of land in the noonday sun.

"Ain't you gonna help me down?" She stood there above him, her strange, beautiful eyes roaming over his scruffy face.

Silas felt like she was testing him then, that if he gave her the right answer, come morning, he just might find himself fast asleep, lying warm and naked next to her in his old brass bed. He imagined both of their parts all sore and spent from a long night of fucking. It was a mouthwatering thought, and he was careful with his answer.

"You got up there on your own...I reckon you're crafty enough to get yourself down. Besides, you said you wanted to fly." Silas gave her a teasing smile, showing all of his big white teeth, and the way she looked down at him, with high color in her cheeks and mischief in her eyes, brought on the warm tug of an erection. He was glad his old coat was long enough to cover all that.

"I did say that, didn't I?" Franny seemed pleased with his lack of chivalry and he couldn't help but smile.

"You sure did."

"Then I reckon I should fly..."

She jumped then, her rifle and her old burlap sack flying off in two opposite directions as she landed in a snow drift that nearly swallowed her up. She let out a little shriek at the cold mess seeping into her boots and down the front of her coat. She started giggling, her laughter echoing up into the silent pines, mingling with his until it became one sweet, blissful sound.

~~~~~~~~~

"You go on in. I'm goin' 'round the side to gather up a few more logs for that fire." Silas felt the warmth of her gaze on him. He saw a little smile crop up on her red mouth and a flood of longing went through him as she lingered there on his rickety front porch, waiting for him. He couldn't help but feel eager right down to his boots just thinking on what that little grin might mean for him.

"All right..." She smoothed back her unruly, light brown mane and slipped inside of his small, tidy house. She left him standing there with hot blood coursing all through his veins.

He hadn't known the slick heat of a woman's body since he'd last gotten drunk in Lewisburg six months before. It had been at a tiny brothel on the outskirts of town, where a Shawnee Indian girl he'd fancied lay herself down for fifty cents a fuck. He'd gone to her five or six times before, and though it had been downright unnecessary, he'd boughten her a small token. It'd been a comb for her long black hair, carved out in the shape of a butterfly, the wings done up in violet and blue glass. She'd looked down at that comb like it'd been a solid piece of shined up gold.

"You don't have to give this to me." There had been a hint of sadness in her raspy voice as she'd set it down carefully on her paint-chipped dresser. Almost at once, she'd reached for the brass buckle on his old leather belt.

"Handsome and kind...how do you not have a sweetheart? What are you doing in a place like this? I always wonder every time you come to me." Her black eyes had wandered over his face, searching, like he'd been a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit together.

Silas hadn't answered her questions. He hadn't wanted to explain that since he'd rooted down in the mountains, he'd favored privacy and quiet above finding a wife.

"I thought you could use it...for that beautiful mane." He'd touched her smooth locks, and she'd given him a warm smile with all her crooked teeth showing. She'd dropped down gracefully on her haunches, and she'd taken the whole silky length of his cock into her mouth in one fluid motion. He'd felt himself hit the back of her throat over and over, and it'd been hard for him to breathe. She'd worked her dark, rough hand up and down his throbbing shaft as her hot, wet mouth had sucked deep and quick at the thick swell of his tip. Her mouth had been reckless and wild on him, and Silas hadn't been able to keep from pulling at her long black hair. He'd sighed out loud as heavy footsteps and quiet giggles had moved down the long hallway just outside her door.

"Now, I want to give you something beautiful." She'd risen up, and almost like she'd been dancing, she'd turned away from him. Her honey-brown skin, with its soft undertone of red, had shown beautiful in the light of a small gas lamp on her dresser, and she'd bent her supple, curved body over the foot of her tall bed, offering him her ample behind. He'd been panting just watching her do it, and he'd wet his long shaft with spittle that had still smelled of tobacco and cheap whiskey. He'd slid right into her from behind, grabbing onto her wide hips with fire in his grasp, and she'd sucked in her breath at the feel of him driving deep and full up into her throat.