Everyone Ignored the Quiet Cook—Until a Mountain Man Asked About Her Cornbread
Chapter 6
Elias’s cabin was small.
One room.
A stone fireplace.
Two beds.
A table.
A shelf of books.
A rack of rifles.
Dried herbs hung from the rafters.
Clara expected hardship.
Instead, she found order.
Everything had its place.
Elias gave her the larger bed.
He slept near the fire.
She noticed he always kept his rifle within reach.
“Are we in danger here?”
“Not tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Mercer does not know where I live.”
Clara looked around.
“How can you be sure?”
Elias smiled.
“I have lived in these mountains longer than most men have known my name.”
The next morning, Clara cooked.
She found cornmeal.
Honey.
Butter.
She made cornbread.
Elias entered as she removed the skillet.
He stopped.
“You made it.”
“I did.”
He took a piece.
Clara watched him.
He tasted it.
His eyes closed briefly.
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“Your mother’s.”
Clara smiled.
Then Elias noticed something.
The recipe box was open.
He took the letter.
There was writing on the back.
A line Clara had not noticed.
The truth lies where the mountain drinks from the river.
Elias stared at it.
“I know this place.”
“Where?”
“A cave above the western river.”
Clara looked at him.
“Do you think my father left something there?”
“Possibly.”
“We should go.”
Elias shook his head.
“Tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because today I need to prepare.”
“For what?”
He looked toward the mountains.
“Mercer will not wait.”
