Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The wooden shack was older than her uncle. Her great grandfather’d built it with his own two hands alone when he was not much older than her. Her uncle didn’t go there on account of bad memories and too many cobwebs, but she liked to go there and be alone sometimes. On a hot day in June while she and he walked side by side, he with his hands in his pockets and his lucky Stetson tipped back on his head and she with her golden hair hanging down her back, the beetles seemed particularly lively. She wasn’t thinking about it but they were walking the path to the old wood shack. He marveled at the sight of it and ran up ahead.

This don’t looked lived in none. He said. His eyes always sparkled when he was excited about something.

It hasn’t been. She said. Not for years.

Well that ain’t practical. He said. Lettin’ a good set’a walls go’ta waste like that. He lifted his hat and scratched his wild brown hair. You know a home’s like people. Gotta be looked after, gotta have someone to talk to. She smiled and took his hands in hers.

Will you look after it? She said.

Her. He said. It’s a Her, ma’am, can’t you tell? And of course I’ll look after her. I’ll fix her up good’n make’r look ten years younger.

What about your Pa? She said.

Oh, Pa will get on jes fine. He said. I’m sure that hickory switch’a his’ll miss me more’n he does. Yes, ma’am a home is jes like people, it’s gotta have a name, it’s gotta be called somethin.’

What’ll you call it? She said.

Reckon I’ll call her Margaret. He said. That was the name’a my first gun I ever shot and it’s a good’a name as any, I suppose.

She visited him often in that shack. If he wasn’t with her he was fixing up Margaret. He even got the wood stove working and he and she spent many winter nights beside its heat. On a Christmas morning she brought him milk and eggs and bread as she often did but she was smiling because she’d brought him something else.

This is some fine cloth, ma’am. He said. It’s much too nice to wash up with or polish a pistol with. I’ll hang it in the window.

Open it. She laughed. He blinked and unraveled the cloth.

Oh, ma’am, that thing’s near pretty s’you are.

They’re sea shells. She said. From my home in Washington. The leather’s a shoelace from my uncle’s boot.

Can I wear it around my neck? He said. She laughed.

Typically that’s how it works. She said. He grinned as he fastened the string of shells around his neck. He said he loved her. She said so too.                       

Reviews

[EssenceofDaringx]

When will we find out their names? We know the name of a shack but not the main characters, kind of cool, but strange.

[Evan James Devereaux]

Thanks for the read! And actually I was planning on keeping them nameless for the whole story