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the time he grubbed gold from the hard rock of the mountains. That, too, was a survival skill he hadn’t taught the young grandniecehe had brought back from Virginia to live in his home.
    “But I’m learning,” Shannon said firmly. “I brought down one deer and some foolish grouse last fall. If the weather holds now, I’ll hunt some more, until I have enough food to go up the east fork of Avalanche Creek and dig for gold, and then I’ll hunt for more food and jerk the meat and take the gold and buy supplies for winter and…”
    Shannon’s voice died. Summer wasn’t very long for all that had to be done. At nearly eight thousand feet, summer came and went as quick as a mayfly.
    “The wood!” Shannon said, remembering. “Oh, lord. How could I forget sawing and chopping and splitting and stacking and curing the wood? I’ll need a lot of fuel, even with the hot spring for washing clothes and such, and I’ll need to get it all before the first heavy snows close the passes and cover the downed trees and send the game to lower elevations.”
    Shannon drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the fear that sometimes took her unawares since Silent John had ridden away from the cabin and never come back.
    I’m scared, Prettyface. I’m really scared.
    But those were words Shannon would never speak aloud. She had learned when she was thirteen that giving way to fear only made things worse. It told people you were ripe for the taking.
    “Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof,” Shannon said grimly. “I’ll have plenty of time to do everything if I stop standing around wringing my hands!”
    With quick, light steps, Shannon went to the leather-hinged box that held dry goods. Except forthe salt and flour she had bought yesterday, the cupboard was empty. Last night she had divided the salt into two portions. The smaller one was hers. The larger one was destined to repay Cherokee for her loan at Christmas.
    “I should have told Whip to leave the supplies that I paid for,” Shannon muttered.
    The memory of the Culpeppers made Shannon’s mouth tighten in fear and distaste.
    But the memory of a big man riding toward her out of the storm made her breath unravel with an excitement she had never known.
    “Come on, Prettyface. It’s time to see Cherokee. She’ll talk some sense into me.”
    Prettyface bounded out the door ahead of Shannon. She watched him carefully, knowing that the dog’s senses were much more acute than hers. If anyone was prowling around, Prettyface would discover the intruder long before she did.
    The dog lifted his muzzle into the cold, clear wind and sampled the air with all of his senses. Then he bounded forward, telling Shannon that there was no danger on the wind.
    Even so, Shannon was cautious. She stepped outside and looked around carefully. There were no tracks in the frost-stiffened grass around the cabin. She sighed with relief even as she took another look just to be certain.
    The shotgun was in the crook of her arm and her hand was never far from the trigger. The wind tugged at her hat, but she had tied it on securely with a faded silk scarf, one of the few luxuries that had survived from her Virginia childhood.
    Pulling the door shut firmly behind her, Shannon set out toward Cherokee’s cabin. She could have ridden Razorback, but he was still tired from thetrip into Holler Creek. She left the old mule on a picket rope, cropping tender young grass.
    It was less than two miles to Cherokee’s cabin. As Shannon set out, dawn was coming up all around in glorious shades of rose and gold and deepest pink. The beauty of the day lifted her spirits. Humming very softly under her breath, she pulled the colors of dawn around her like a glorious cloak and hurried along the trail.
    When Shannon reached the cleared area around Cherokee’s cabin, she stood at the edge and called out. Since the Culpeppers’ arrival at Echo Basin, folks had been less welcoming to visitors. People who walked up on