It was an old woman who came to the door, hair down, done for the day, and probably ready for bed. But she was still dressed and gave them a hard look, questioning the three riders, strangers, who had appeared at her doorstep after dark.

“Evening, ma'am,” Tom said. He held his hat in his hands in front of him in a gesture of respect and decent intent in front of a lady.

“Has there been trouble?” she asked.

Tom's hand went up toward his damaged eye, then stopped. “I had an accident up to the mine yesterday. It was a cave-in. Some green timbers just snapped like twigs. We're heading south where we got family. We need some provisions. We have money. We can pay. We just lost all our food. I'm afraid the worst trouble is the trouble I'm causing you this evening.”

“There are three of you?” She leaned out, squinting, trying to see and count in the dark.

“Yes, ma'am. Three. Me and my brother and our friend here. We're heading home. Get our people to go on up and help us dig it all out again.”

“Your eye looks very bad.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You're not those boys they're wanting? From up in the Galiuros?”

“No, ma'am.” Tom smiled. “I don't believe there's anybody wants us.”

“And you want some food.”

“Yes, ma'am. We have money, but there doesn't seem to be anywhere that's open to buy any. We're trying to get on down south. To our people.”

“I have some bread and some beets and beans and tomatoes I put up last summer. I suppose you could have that.”

“It would be appreciated, ma'am.”

She turned then and went toward the back of the house, leaving the door open so that Tom could peer into the little house, which was neat and orderly and brought with it thoughts of his mother and Granny and even Ola May. A woman brought a sense of comfort and rightness to a place that a man didn't have on his own. But the women of the Power clan were all gone now. All three of them dead, and by now the Old Man, too. And Tom wasn't sure that there was a very good chance that he and John would live out the month. It was almost as if Thems’ God had stood up and started to stomp the Power family right out of existence.

She came back then, a croaker sack cradled in her arms. She offered it, and he took it. “There's bread and beets, beans and tomatoes, some pickled cucumbers, a hunk of cheese, a big slice of ham I can't seem to get eaten, and half a can of coffee.”

“Obliged, ma'am. We're certainly obliged for your help and kindness. How much money do we owe you?”

“I don't believe I'm owed. You need food and I have food. I don't see any ‘owed’ in that.”

“That's a true kindness.”