Chapter Text
•John•
"Here's the list. If the sugar is too expensive, we can make do without. I've still got some honey put away from that hive you took out in the spring." Annie said, handing him the slip of paper as he adjusted one of the backing straps on his final check of the mule.
"Should be able to make it work." He said, glancing over the neat, looping handwriting. He smiled at her, "If they have any of that printed fabric you liked the last time, I'll grab some of that as well. You're due for a new dress."
Annie gave him a playful slap to his chest, leaning up to kiss him on the chin, "You tease me, John MacTavish. We can't afford all of that now."
"For you, darlin', anything." He gave her a wink and pulled her in for a proper kiss. "Now, I've got to get going. I'm already losing light. I'll see you in a couple days."
"Be careful. I love you." Annie patted the neck of their mule before waving him off as he climbed into the cart.
"I love you. I'll be back before you know it." He called to her.
John clicked his tongue and the mule started forward, the cart rocking gently on the uneven earth in front of their cabin. He steered the creature toward the path that would lead to town. The journey usually took about two days there and two days back with the cart if the weather remained kind, and judging the sky in the distance, it should.
The day was clear and bright, the early autumn sun warming John's face as the cart ambled along. This would be their last supply run to town before winter hit, so it would be a sizeable haul to last the season.
He and Annie had moved out here about five years ago now, intent on starting a new life in the western frontier. Both of them quickly learned that despite their knowledge from growing up on farms back east, it would be a hard shake to survive here. The first two years were harsh. Newly married and excited to forge their own path, they loaded up their wagon and bid farewell to their families. John struggled to get their cabin built in time for the heavy snowfall that was new to them.
They'd experienced snow back east, but nothing like what it was here. The winters were long and brutal and the first year tested their resolve. They had nearly run out of food, John resorting to wading through near waist deep snow to reach the nearby wood to hunt. Even that turned up poorly and nearly cost him a few fingers and toes. When spring finally broke, he asked Annie if she wanted to return home. He felt like he had failed her, promised her a life worth living and instead dragged her to the threshold of misery. She shocked him in her persistence when she said she couldn't imagine leaving. That they would learn together and grow from it.
They worked hard over the next months, long days were spent preparing themselves and their home for the inevitable cruelty of the cold. The second winter was better, but not by much. Their food stores were better stocked, but the barns took heavy damage and in turn, they lost more of their livestock than they anticipated. It was a small fortune to replace them in the spring, nearly wiping out all of the cash they had.
Since then, they seemed to have found their stride together, the last three years passing prosperously and allowing them to finally relax into their home. John was thankful to Annie for staying by his side, for helping him to shape his dream into a reality. She had given up many things in this pursuit, and despite her assurances that she was happy with their life, he worried he'd let her down in some way. She was his best friend and he only ever wanted her to be happy.
As he rounded a bend a few hours later, lost in thought, he caught sight of something out of place.
Near a clearing a ways from the trail, a small wagon was stopped, the bright white of the canvas top standing out stark against the tree line. John noticed a man struggling to free a large trunk from the back of the wagon, cursing loudly enough for the muffled noise to just barely reach John's ears. He smirked to himself and tugged the lead lines on Ace to turn him toward the clearing.
As he rattled closer, the man looked up from beneath the brim of the hat he wore. The very new looking hat. John smiled and threw him a wave as he climbed down from the bench of his cart.
"Hello! Look like you could use a hand. Lucky I was rolling by. Here." John stepped forward and reached to free a strap that had caught the trunk, preventing it from being slid out easily.
The man grumbled a rough "Thanks."
"No problem. Name's John MacTavish. My wife and I are settled up the ways a bit." He waved in the direction of home, "I was on my way to town and saw you having trouble. You passing through?"
The look he got in return was less than friendly from what he could see, but the bandanna wrapped around the lower half of the man's face made it tricky to tell.
"No. Here to stay. Trying to get some of my tools out so that I can start setting up to build. Thanks for the help, I've got it from here."
John perked up at the accent, "English? Haven't heard that one in a bit. There is a German family a ways out, they're closer to town, though. I'm Scottish, myself. Family came to the states when I was just a boy, though. They're all back east with my wife's family, too. She was born in America. Her Ma, too. The rest of the family was fro-"
"I'm losing daylight and I need to get started. Thanks for the help." The man turned his back on John and began to sort through some of the tools in the trunk, ending the conversation.
John frowned. Maybe he was a little chatty, Annie always told him he could gossip with the best of the ladies and it always made him laugh. He couldn't help it. He was raised with all sisters and it just came naturally to him. He was friendly and by far, the hardest part of being out west was the lack of social interactions. He had Annie, and they got along quite well, but chatting with others always did his soul good. Apparently this man didn't share the sentiment.
"Right then. Do you have help on the way? Going to need it to get a place built." He was already climbing back onto his cart as he asked.
The man grumbled again, "Not long off. Should be here any time."
John shrugged, "Alright. Well, if you need an extra set of hands, I'll be passing back through in a couple days. If you need me after that, our little home is up that way a bit," He pointed to indicate the path, "Just keep to the left at the fork and you'll run right into us. Couple hours on horse is all. Best to ya."
John clicked his tongue to get Ace moving again, steering him back toward the rough path to get to town, wondering all the while about the stranger that he'd helped. The man's wagon seemed small for the supplies he would need, especially this late in the year. Speaking of, it was quite late to try to build a cabin and start setting up a home. No time to plant or prepare. He hoped that the person that was to be meeting up with him was bringing more supplies and manpower. He frowned. He would swing by on his way home and check on the man once more, determined to offer his help to him and whoever was there with him to ensure they got a suitable shelter built in time.
_______________
He frowned at the sight before him. The same small wagon, the same strawberry roan horse tied to the rear of it, the same heads of oxen grazing nearby. No sign of anyone else having arrived in the days since he came through on his way to town.
He slipped from the bench of the cart, tossing the lead lines back up and giving Ace a pat as he made his way closer to the trees where the start of a foundation was situated. He looked around and caught a glimpse of the man laboring through the trees, a small, one wheeled cart being pushed precariously over the debris on the forest floor. John trotted to him with a wave and a called greeting. The man stopped and waited as John approached.
The cart was filled with wide, flat stones from the nearby creek, the same one that cut through John's property. He quickly thought it over in his head trying to figure the distance the man was hauling the stones and he blew out a breath.
"Long way to cart those by hand. You look exhausted."
He got a grunt in reply, the man still catching his breath, sweat soaking his shirt. He saw him flex his hands a few times, no doubt tiring from the work of hauling this thing through the unforgiving terrain.
"Didn't see another wagon or anything. Your friend get lost?"
The man was refusing to meet his eyes as he muttered an irritated response, "Maybe so. What's it to you?"
John watched him for a second before glancing back toward the clearing, "There's no one coming is there? Just you out here?"
The man didn't answer, simply hoisted the cart handles once more and began to push forward, past John.
"Hey! At least let me help get this load back up there. Can't imagine how many trips it's taken with this thing. Do you have a smaller cart for your horse or one of the oxen?" He was trying to squeeze his way between the man and the wheelbarrow now, tugging it free from his grasp. He saw the man's shoulders slump with relief.
He lifted the handles and started to push.
Christ, it was heavy! The man looked well built, but even for someone made like him, it would be hell transporting all of these over a distance like this.
"I don't. Just the big wagon and this."
John tossed him a look over his shoulder and huffed out, "Don't suppose your vanishing friend is bringing one, either?"
"You don't have to help me. I can get it myself."
They were finally reaching the area near the start of the foundation and the ground was a little less uneven here, thankfully. John rolled his eyes and gave him a smile, "Not a chance. Late in the season, even if your friend shows up tomorrow, it'll be playing hell to get this thing up before the snow hits. Especially carting these rocks like this, bleedin' Jesus!" He finally let the wheelbarrow come to a stop and dropped the handles, rolling his shoulders.
He looked over and saw the worry in the man's eyes. The bandanna still covered the lower half of his face and John wondered at it, but didn't pry. Wasn't his business.
"Now, I don't mind if you're out here by yourself, but if there's no one coming, you're going to need help whether you like it or not unless you plan on freezing to death the first week of winter." He held the man's gaze, trying to impart the gravity of the situation. He wasn't being dramatic, if the man was working alone and with inferior equipment, he would be frozen to the ground before even the foundation was laid.
"I'm alone." The man dropped his head as though he was embarrassed by the admission.
John simply flashed a smile at him. "There now, wasn't so hard, was it? Tell you what, my cart is loaded down with supplies right now, but I can bring it back empty tomorrow morning. There should be a little cut through the trees down to the southern end of the clearing where we can navigate her and have Ace here haul the heavy stuff for us. Should be able to get the foundation done in no time. Rest up tonight, I'm sure you'll be sore enough tomorrow already."
He saw a touch of color bleeding up beyond the border of the mask the man wore, a sheepish nod. "I would appreciate that, if it's not too much trouble."
John clapped him on the shoulder, immediately pulling back when he noticed the man flinch. He pushed a smile onto his lips, softening it a little, "It's no problem at all. Wouldn't be able to rest at night knowing someone was struggling so close to home. We'll get it situated, don't you worry."
Another nod, eyes flicking everywhere but at John's, "You can call me Simon."
"Simon. I like that. Good to have a name."
He waved and turned to clamber back onto the bench of the cart and got Ace moving once more.
_______________
"He's alone out here. Beats me what would possess a person to try it this late in the year and this far from town, but he's doing it." John was taking the last of the tack off of Ace and putting it away.
He and Annie had spent the better part of the last couple of hours unloading the cart and getting everything put away. He didn't bother putting the cart up since he would be taking it the following morning, but he wanted to get Ace cleaned up and bedded down for the night before he got his own dinner.
"What's his name?" She asked, handing him the bridle to hang.
"Simon. Seems a little standoffish. Not real social."
Annie chuckled, "He's probably normal, you're just talkative. I'd be surprised if you didn't scare the poor thing off."
He stared at her with a look of mock injustice on his face, "Ah! My wounded heart! How could you, Annie? I thought you loved my talkative nature."
She kissed him, tugging him toward the house, "I do. It's why I married you. Now get washed up and let's eat."
A short while later, empty bowls before them on the table in the warmth of the fire, Annie broke the comfortable silence.
"It's late enough in the year and we've done most of our preparations. I can take over a little more here if you want to try to spend some more time helping him. At least get him squared away enough to have a hope of making it through winter. It won't be easy on him, but I still don't want to see him die out here. Whatever sent him this way must have been convincing to risk his life like this."
John nodded, thinking it over. "I probably will. If I can at least get him the cabin built, a well dug, and some wood split, he might have a fair shake. Especially if he brought enough rations or if he can make a supply run before it gets cold. Might be expensive, but by the looks of some of his things, he has a bit of money."
"It was a productive year. We have enough that we can have him for meals here and there, too. Let him know that he's welcome if he needs it. The company might be nice, as well.. Assuming you don't talk his ear off." Annie gave him a teasing smirk.
John scoffed and stood to help Annie clear the table.
"Can't believe you sometimes, you know that?"
"You love me, John." She leaned to kiss his cheek.
"Aye, I do."