Evangeline let the jibe pass, bustled over to the fireplace, got a blaze going there, too. “Hush,” she said. “You’ll wake Abigail.”

Not much would rouse Abigail, before she was ready to be awakened anyway, but Scully didn’t know that and Evangeline wasn’t going to tell him. She found fresh underthings in her trunk, along with her one remaining petticoat, then took her good blue dress from a wall peg and headed for the lean-to. It was the only private place to dress, with Scully lying right there in front of the stove the way he was.

She got into her clothes with haste, since the little room was half again as cold as the rest of the house, then went out and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on her shoes and fasten them, using a buttonhook. That done, she took a water bucket in each hand and headed for the door, stopping there to put on her cloak, then raise the latch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scully demanded. He was trying to get up again, and having no luck at all.

“To the spring,” Evangeline answered. “Mind you don’t move around so much that you open those wounds of yours, Scully Wainwright. We’re fresh out of clean sheets and pretty low on bandages, not to mention whiskey.”

“The spring is on the other side of that stand of cottonwoods out behind the barn,” Scully said. “Lots of critters come there to drink, including wolves. Might even be a bear or two.”

Evangeline’s stomach quivered, but she kept her chin high. “I’ll take your pistol, then,” she decided, and brought it down from the shelf over the coat pegs, where she’d put it the night before after undressing Scully. Once again, the weight of the thing surprised her. Resolutely, she began strapping it around her middle, on the outside of her cloak. Even buckled to the last hole in the belt, it nearly slid over her hips and thighs to the floor.

“Evangeline,” Scully growled.

“Do be quiet,” Evangeline responded, in crisp tones. Then she opened the door, took up her buckets, and started out.

The ground was hard and bristly with tiny, sparkling shards of frost and there were heavy clouds on the horizon, probably burdened with snow. Bessie was already complaining mournfully, out there in the barn.

Evangeline’s heart was light, despite a natural trepidation at venturing to the spring alone, with Scully’s pistol weighing her down on one side. She wasn’t even sure she could fire it, but carrying it was a consolation, and if she didn’t think about it too much, she could almost believe she’d be able to raise, point and fire the wretched thing without hurting herself.

There were two deer drinking at the spring, and Evangeline stood still, watching as they raised their heads and flicked their long ears. Scully probably would have shot one or both of them, because winter was coming on steadily and game was already scarce, but she never considered anything of the sort.