These Muddy Waters

Chapter 1

A brisk March wind tugged at Molly's cloak as she pushed against the stubborn door at Jake's Mercantile. March was without doubt coming in like a lion. A few flurries of snow stung at her face suggesting that the weather could take a turn for the worse. The door opened with a creak that went unnoticed by the two men at the front counter. Molly silently made her way to the pot bellied stove in the corner and extended her cold hands toward its warmth. Her slim frame shivered a little as she leaned over the stove to soak up the welcome heat after her trek through the cold to get tobacco for her father. The men carried on their conversation unaware of Molly’s presence and her close scrutiny of them. She knew Jake, the proprietor of course, but the other man was a stranger. He was tall and fair with long hair and a beard. He wore buckskin clothing and boots and he was discussing with Jake the trade of supplies for the winters’ furs.
“These are some of the best furs I've seen in a while, Nathan,” Jake told the man. “Looks like you've had a good winter.”
“I've had a great winter. The furs are fine and my place is shaping up real good. This is my first spring to try putting in a garden. A man can't live on wild meat, beans and coffee forever.”
Jake glanced at Nathan with a smirk on his face,
“Sounds like you're itching to settle down a bit.”
“Yeah, too bad you can't sell me a woman along with the seeds and the flour. She could take care of the garden for me and keep me warm on a cold night.”
From the corner of the store near the stove, a soft feminine voice whispered,
“I'd go.”

Startled, both men turned to see where the sound came from. As their eyes met hers, it felt as though they were staring right through her as she attempted to hide behind the stove. The blood rushed up her throat to spread an embarrassing stain on her face as she realized that she had spoken out loud. Her thin face was framed by thick chestnut colored hair; her eyes large and sparkling. She grasped her cloak around her neck awkwardly and ran to the usually stubborn door, opening it with ease as she hurried out into the cold and began running toward home. The men stood there in silence for a moment staring at the door that Molly hadn't bothered to close, and then Nathan spoke.
“Who was that?”
Jake stepped from behind the counter and went to close the door, watching Molly briefly as she ran down the trail away from the store. “Molly Meyers,” he said.
“I didn't even hear that little gal come in.”
“Well,” Nathan answered. “I'm glad I didn't add anymore to my remark about being warmed on a cold night. Wouldn't want to say that kind of thing in front of a child.”
“Oh, I don't think Molly's that much of a child. She’s turned sixteen. I know she's just a little bitty thing, but I reckon she's old enough to want to be with a man. She'd probably be more than willing for a change to leave home..”
Nathan scowled as he questioned Jake.
“Well, her old man drinks and from what I’ve seen, he’s rough on those kids. Molly's the oldest and because of that, he makes her work like a dog.”
“ Does she have a Ma?”, Nathan’s mind was taking it all in, already feeling a little sad for the small wisp of a woman child he’d just seen flittering out the store”
“Yeah, she's got a Ma. She can't stand up to Meyers none, though. He was quite a bit older than her when she married him. He don't do much toward making a living for them. Just works for the Wood Hawks on the river every once in a while, supplying fuel for the boats. Spends a good part of what he earns on liquor. When he's sober, he ain't so bad, but when he's drinking, he gets mean.”

Jake shook his head as the men stood silent for a moment, then they were back to the business at hand, talking trade and making a list of the supplies that Nathan needed.
“Let’s see, I'll need flour and meal; plenty more beans. It'll have to be beans 'til my garden comes up. Oh yeah, molasses, salt, salt meat, sugar. You got any more of those tinned biscuits?”
As Molly ran back out into the cold, she was mortified. She could hardly catch her breath! There she’d been warming herself and eaves dropping on somebody else’s doings. Hadn’t her Ma told her over and over how such a thing was not polite? And above all that, Molly had gone and done the one thing her Ma fussed at her about over and over; you don’t speak until you’re spoken to. Her Ma’s voice echoing in her mind just made it all the worse.