She put her revolver deliberately on the table by her chair. “All right,” she said. She looked into the fire, seeming softer and more womanly now.
Late that afternoon she brought in some rabbits to butcher for stew. Red went out with Tim to cut and carry firewood. They went to a tree that had fallen close to the little privy. Tim took the first turn with the ax. The blade bit the bark and Red said, “Funny how she settled on our names right away, Redbeard and Slim. That’s pretty close. But she’s not much of a one for names. Just Missus Flint. We were lucky to find out what name she went by at all.”
Tim severed the trunk with a final blow and started another cut.
“What did you talk about this morning, Mr. Slim? She’s been like sunshine today.”
Tim smiled. “Now she knows we’re gentlemen.”
“I see.”
“What a life the woman has,” Tim said, looking at the empty shed. “No husband, no horse; cow died last spring and her hound died just a week ago, she said.”
“Nancy’s a sturdy little thing, but I can’t imagine her living like this.”
They swung through the door and stumped across the sagging floor to watch the woman work. There were two pots swinging over the blazing fire and she was cutting chunks of rabbit and potato into one. The other held corn mush. Tim could tell by the smell.
“Ma’am,” Red said, “we shouldn’t eat up all your food this way.”