by Wade Adrian
“Mary?”
It was a few moments later when she looked down over the railing, she had changed into her more typical attire, overalls and a t-shirt.
He held up the paper. “Did you come up with this?”
She nodded and pulled her hair back into a pony tail.
Huh. “Well, I’m impressed. That’s a great idea.”
She beamed a smile down at him.
“Let me know if you think of anything else.”
She nodded.
He found himself less apprehensive all of a sudden. Maybe she was cut out for this sort of work.
Smith set the sheets back down. He didn’t quite understand the others.
There was a little empty basket on one of the shelves. He pulled it out and loaded it up with spoons. Probably still looked like a crazy person.
Different tools had shown up while he was gone. The wall’s nails and hooks bore several he had never seen before, as well as a few familiar things like the tape measurer that had belonged to Wilson. Maybe it was on loan for the long haul. Or maybe the farmer just thought this was a better place for it to live when he wasn’t using it. Probably the story with most of the new tools. And the second anvil.
The stairs creaking a bit caught his ear. He glanced aside to see Mary at the bottom, arms loaded with cloth. She pointed at him and then at the walled in washroom.
“I already had a bath. But I won’t let anyone in, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She shook her head, walked a few steps closer, and hooked her arm under his. The clothes she held up with her other hand didn’t look very feminine. They were for him.
“Well now I just feel like you’re commenting on my outfit.”
She nodded a few times as she started walking, towing him along.
The washroom was larger than he had expected, a lamp lighting the windowless room. The tub was about the same size as those in the inn. Maybe it had been a spare. The furnace for water heating was smaller, but that meant it would get up to temperature a lot faster.
Mary got it started with practiced precision. It was simpler than the inn’s version of a furnace. She set the clothing down on a counter in front of a mirror and turned to face him. She gently lifted a hand to touch his beard, and pointed at a razor on the counter with a raised eyebrow.
His beard had served him well outside. He had needed it. It helped keep him warm in the wild… but he wasn’t in the wild anymore. And even if he had to go somewhere, it wouldn’t be until spring.
He picked up the razor, turning it over a bit. It looked brand new. He couldn’t say the same for the face in the mirror. “I might keep a bit of it, just to hide the fact that I don’t have much of a chin. But yeah, I think maybe I can stand to lose the Grisly Adams look.”
She smiled and took the razor from him and set it back down before pointing at the furnace. There were no buckets here, the furnace had a tap and a pipe that stretched out over the tub.
“Oh, fancy.” He turned the knob. It was rather warm to the touch. A less than perfect design, but it worked.
Once the tub was steaming he shut the valve again… and blew on his fingers a bit. Maybe a pot holder or a glove or something.
Wiggling out of his coat he winced and bit off a curse. He carefully removed the green eye’s claw from his pocket and held it up. Since it hadn’t ridden with the spoons he’d almost forgotten about it.
Mary tilted her head at it.
“This was stuck in Ross. Rawlins pulled it out.”
She frowned at the claw.
He held it up. It wasn’t exactly bright in the washroom, but it was just as large and menacing as ever. “Just a… reminder of what’s out there, I suppose. Certainly not safe or welcoming.” He set the claw down on the counter and laid his coat down on top of it. “But that just makes me all the more happy to be here.” He gave her a smile. “Where it’s safe and welcoming.”
She hugged him again, though he was careful to lean in close to her as she had produced a pair of scissors from somewhere. If he got stabbed while trimming his beard he’d never hear the end of it. All kinds of hell there and back, only to get stitches after getting home.
Home. It had a nice ring to it.
She tilted her head back and forth as she combed through his knotted beard, scissors in hand. She lined up the first cut, spreading the scissors wide.
A loud banging sounded from outside.
She glanced up. Smith tried not to move his head too much. He’d look pretty silly with half a mustache.
“Smith? You in there?” Wilson’s voice carried through the layers of wood. He must be practically yelling at the door.
Mary rolled her eyes and set the scissors down. The look on her face spoke volumes. Shotgun or not, Wilson was ill like so many others and was about to get chewed out for being out and about in this weather.
Smith chuckled a bit as he followed.
In his youth, home had been a place he was warm, safe, welcome, and incredibly unlikely to get a moments peace. The world had changed drastically, faster than anyone would have thought possible, and yet that seemed to remain true. It was comforting, in its own strange way.
Thank you for reading about Smith. If you have the time and inclination, please consider leaving a short review so others can find and enjoy it.
Other works by Wade Adrian:
The Hawk, Book 0: Recruit
The Hawk Trilogy
The Hawk, Book 1: Unleashed
The Hawk, Book 2: Captain
The Hawk, Book 3: Legend
The Proving Grounds: Ultimatum
The Proving Grounds: Heralds
The Proving Grounds: Growing Pains
Black Knight: A Land of Shadows
The Ghost of Captain Blackstone
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