Nate didn’t find that unusual; he knew plenty of cowboys who spread their bedroll close to their horse at night.
“Maybe it would be more accurate to say the donkey slept beside him,” she said.
“What does that mean?” Missy asked.
Louise lifted her hand as if to indicate it was nothing. “Just that the donkey went inside the man’s house and slept on the bed with him.”
Stunned disbelief turned her listeners silent for a moment, then Miss Rolfe said, “Eww, that’s awful.”
Nate wondered if it was true or just a good story.
“I think the man was a little touched.” Louise tapped her forehead to indicate what she meant. “Last I recall hearing of him, he’d taken his donkey and an ax into the woods.”
“Louise, what a dreadful story.”
She shrugged. “People do strange things when they lose their minds, sometimes without any warning.”
A scratching came from the outer side of the door, along with a sound—half growl, have moan.
Missy’s eyes were so wide, the whites were visible. She grabbed Louise’s hand. “Dusty’s come back. Maybe with an ax.”
All eight people sat motionless at the table, staring at the door where the noise continued.
Chapter Eleven
Louise grabbed Nate’s hand and squeezed it so hard she knew she had to be hurting him, but no amount of telling herself to ease up on her grip persuaded her to do so.
Dusty was not a man to mess with. She’d seen the wild look in his eyes last night when he went out into the storm.
In fact, holding Nate’s hand did not provide near as much comfort as she needed and she edged closer until he had little choice but to put his arm around her shoulders.
All of them stared at the door. No one made any sign of answering the continued thumping and scratching. Dusty must surely have lost his mind to stand out there making such strange noises.
Louise forgot how to breathe. She tried to disappear into Nate’s side but was far too large to hide behind anyone.
Dutch was the first to move. “Best see who it is. Or what.”
“Don’t open the door,” Rowena begged, giving voice to the fear Louise shared. “You might regret it.”
Dutch detoured to the stove and grabbed a hunk of firewood, then reached for the door handle.
Sam and Gabe likewise grabbed pieces of wood and stood at his back, ready to defend the place. Archie stood behind the other three, holding the poker.
When Nate tried to join them, Louise held on to him so tightly he couldn’t get to his feet.
“Guess I’ll stay here,” he said, settling back down, but she felt his muscles coiled and knew he would spring up at the first sign of crisis.
Slowly Dutch reached for the door.
Louise sucked in air and held it. Her eyes were riveted to the door.
Dutch turned the knob and cracked the door open, but it flung from his hands and a huge, shaggy dog with an overly large head burst in. He half dragged, half led Dusty behind him. Both were snow covered.
“Weasel.” Dutch dropped his piece of wood. “And Dusty. Where have you two been?”
Dutch and Sam grabbed Dusty and helped him to his feet and half carried him to the stove. As if relieved of his duty, the dog shook himself, spraying snow across the room.
Archie continued to stand guard with the poker.
Louise, too, maintained her alertness. She continued to stare at the man as they took off his snow-covered coat. He certainly didn’t appear to be any threat. No ax dangled from his trembling hands. But she couldn’t relax. No normal man went out in a storm. But then, she’d known from the beginning that Dusty wasn’t normal. She tried to stop squeezing Nate’s hand so hard, but contact with him was the only thing that helped her stay halfway calm.
Dutch seemed to be the only one who knew what to do.
“Let me see your hands.” Dutch didn’t wait for Dusty to obey but eased off the man’s mittens and examined his fingers. “Looks like they’re okay. How about your feet?”
With no chair to sit on, Dutch pulled a log close to the stove and had Dusty sit. He unlaced the boots and eased them off the man’s feet, along with the dirtiest socks she’d ever seen.
Dutch sat back on his heels. “Dusty, I think the layers of dirt on your feet saved them.”