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Dropping to his knees, finally exhausted by his years of labor, he suddenly felt all the fight drain from his body. The years piled onto his shoulders and in an instant he began to realize that he was an old man now. He’d been getting on with his work for so long now, always struggling along alone, and perhaps he’d given too little thought to the fact that he was getting weaker. But who would do this work once he was gone? He’d trained no-one, warned no-one, told no-one the importance of his task. He’d taken the burden entirely without help, barely even explaining much to Mary. Now, as he signed and allowed his tired shoulders to arch slightly, he began to feel as if he could no longer go on. Somehow, someone else would have to pick up where he was leaving off. Someone else would have to perform the good work.

“Dear Lord,” he whispered, “I beg you, make sure that somebody else takes up my load once I am done. Have him be stronger than me, and more able. Better. I have failed you, and my only excuse is that I am an old man and I am tired. Still, that is not good enough. I should have done more. Amen.”

And then, as he was about to close his eyes and accept death, he saw a flickering light.

He squinted slightly, convinced that he was mistaken, but instead he realized that there was a light out there in the distance. Not even that far, either. He took a step forward and watched as the light of a fire continued to burn somewhere off in the snow, and then he realized he could see a faint dark smudge near the trees. At first he didn’t dare to believe that he could be so fortunate, but as he tilted his head he was able to make out the shape of the smudge and he realized that perhaps another miracle had come to save him. There was a cabin at the bottom of the valley, with a fire burning inside, and it was no more than half a mile away.

Getting to his feet and grabbing the chain, filled with a sudden renewed burst of strength, Garrett set off again, pulling the cart through the snow and praying that the damaged support would last until he reached the cabin. All thought of surrender and defeat was wiped in an instant from his mind. Now he knew that he simply had to drag the cart to the cabin, and that there he would be able to get help.

Two

Stuart Munver opened his eyes as soon as he heard the sound of a cart approaching.

He’d spent the past couple of hours playing with his lady-box, squatting next to the fire that burned in the hearth. This was his usual entertainment in the evenings after a hard day’s work, but now his enjoyment was interrupted as he remained perfectly still and listened to the sound that was slowly getting louder. He told himself that he was wrong, that there was nobody else for miles and miles around, that there wasn’t even a marked trail in the area. Finally, however, he set the lady-box aside and got to his feet, and as soon as he looked out the window he saw a dark shape no more than twenty or thirty feet away, dragging some kind of cart through the snow, coming closer and closer.

“What the…”

For a moment, Munver could only stare in wild-eyed astonishment, but then he burst into action. He pulled his pants up and secured the belt at his waist, and then he kicked the lady-box under a chair and grabbed his rifle. He checked that the weapon was loaded, and then he hurried back to the window and crouched down, so as to get a better look at the new arrival while hopefully not being seen himself. He knew all too well that thieves and bandits operated in the area.

He saw a man, bent double and pulling a heavy loud, struggling desperately through the bad weather. There was just the one man, of that he was sure, and his gaze quickly settled onto the cart. There clearly wasn’t much cargo under the blankets and sheets. Whatever was under there, however, was obviously worth money if a man was willing to risk his life by dragging it through the wilderness. Munver actually licked his lips with a sense of anticipation as he tried to imagine what could possibly be so important and valuable. Gold would be too heavy, and no-one in their right mind would be dragging antiques out this way. Munver, never a particularly smart or imaginative man at the best of times, couldn’t imagine what could possibly be on that cart. All he knew was that he wanted it.

But now the visitor was getting much closer, and Munver realized that he had to decide what to do next. He could go out there and shoot the man, of course, but then he wouldn’t be able to learn anything from him. He could talk to him for a while and then shoot him later, when necessary. That seemed like as good an idea as any, although he then realized that he should perhaps be wary of this new arrival’s intentions. What if he was, indeed, a robber? Living out here all alone in the cabin, Munver hadn’t met another person in months now, and he was naturally a little wary. He quickly decided, then, to be cautious but friendly, and to be ready to shoot the bastard at any moment.

Getting back up, he stayed as much out of sight as possible as he watched the man coming closer. And then, finally, the man dropped a heavy chain and stepped away from his cart. For a moment, the man bent over as if he might be about to collapse, but then he straightened himself. He was a big, broad-shouldered man, the very opposite of Munver’s rat-like appearance, and Munver immediately felt a little inadequate. Big, broad-shouldered men had a tendency to bully Munver and to treat him like an idiot, and he didn’t much like that. He’d headed out to the wilderness to get away from people like that. His face twisted into the beginning of a sneer, and he tightened his grip on the rifle.

Well, this time he was in control. This time he wasn’t going to take any shit.

Figuring that it’d be as well to take charge of the situation, Munver made his way to the cabin’s front door. As he reached out for the knob, he realized that his hands were trembling, so he hesitated for a moment and told himself that he couldn’t afford to show fear. This took a little longer than he’d anticipated, and he waited a good couple of minutes as he tried desperately to calm his racing thoughts. Then he grabbed the knob with all the forcefulness he could muster and he made sure to turn it firmly, the way a strong man might, and then he pulled the door open. Trying his best to look tall and menacing, he stepped out into the snow.

Immediately he gasped and stepped back, and then he looked down and saw that he’d forgotten to put his boots on. He’d stepped out barefoot into the snow, so he turned and took a moment to slide his feet into his boots, and then he stepped back out and raised the rifle, only to see that the stranger was standing just a few feet away, silhouetted against the snow and the darkening sky. Watching him.

“Hey there,” Munver said, not quite daring to aim the rifle directly at the new arrival. “Don’t often see another person out here. What’s your business?”

He waited, watching the man’s arms in case there was any sign of a weapon. After a moment he glanced around, watching the tree-line in case the man perhaps hadn’t come alone. Was there a whole gang of raiders watching from the shadows. For a moment, Munver imagined himself trying to win a shoot-out, but then he decided to look back over at the man.

“What are you doing here?” Munver called out. “I’m armed!”

The stranger stared for a moment longer, before starting to trudge forward through the snow.

“Greetings, friend,” the man said, extending a hand toward him. “The name’s Richard Garrett. I’m sorry to intrude, but I’m in something of a bind and I was hoping you could see your way to helping out a fellow in need.”

Munver’s face twitched slightly.

“I left Lordstown a couple of days ago,” Garrett explained, “and I’m afraid I didn’t anticipate just how bad this weather was gonna get. Whoo-oop, there’s a lot of snowstorms round these parts of late.”