The Red Ribbon by Pepper Basham

Author:Pepper Basham [Basham, Pepper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643526515
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Jeremiah stayed the night at his new house so as not to make the long trek all the way back to the old place, and though he’d only lit the fire in one room, his new quilt and the memories of dinner with Granny Burcham and Ava had kept his slumber warm and content the whole night through. Maybe it was time to make the full move over to his new place a week before he’d planned. That’d give him more time to finish building the barn too.

Her response to him the previous night gave him all sorts of hope that their future together might start sooner than later, and if everything worked out the way he’d planned, the house should be ready for a bride by early spring.

He topped the hill on the road toward his old house, a spot which afforded a mile’s view of the surrounding countryside, and his stomach seized. Billowing above the tree line of the forest against the dusky hues of morning swelled a dark cloud of smoke … directly at the spot of his old homeplace. A snap of the reins sent Sally into a gallop over the uneven trail as faint glints of dawn streaked gold through the forest’s waning darkness. He didn’t have to see the house to know what had happened. Didn’t have to watch the charred wood crisp beneath the flames to recognize someone had sent him a clear warning. He’d lived in these mountains long enough to know the cost of stepping over the line of others’ perceived just deserts, but he’d never been the recipient of it.

Until now.

As the forest faded away to reveal the clearing of his uncle’s homestead, fading flames licked the last remains of the cabin, leaving nothing but a charred chimney rising into a pillar of gray smoke. The house he’d known his whole life. The place he’d been raised. The walls of thousands of memories. The place his cousin was due to bring his new bride in only a few weeks.

Destroyed.

A whimper sliced through the crackle of the dying fire and Jeremiah’s pulse careened into a sprint. In the distance, between the burning house and the small, intact barn, lay a bundle of gray fur, motionless.

Wolf.

Jeremiah leaped from the wagon and dashed toward the dog. Wolf attempted to raise his head at Jeremiah’s approach but only managed another whimper, his fur stained with blood from his midsection to his back. One leg turned in a crooked direction, clearly broken.

“Hey, boy,” Jeremiah soothed, kneeling down by his companion of five years.

With careful hands, Jeremiah smoothed back the fur, examining the stained area. Near the hip joint, Jeremiah found the hole left behind from a bullet. Pistol. At least it hadn’t been a shotgun, or there’d likely have been nothing left to do with Wolf but bury him.

Wolf whimpered again. Jeremiah fisted his hands and glanced around the remains. He should have taken Wolf with him to Granny Burcham’s. He should have moved everything a week sooner.

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