In Wilderness Found

Chapter 1: His Presence is Less Than Company

The sun is going down around the farm, casting faded shadows onto the late spring ground. What remains of the day is enough to light the way from the simple barn and pasture to the unsophisticated log cabin made of pine that sits nestled and secluded in the Carolina mountains.

Ellis Combs secures the pasture gate with a sigh, and wipes his soil-stained hands onto his pants. He mentally curses himself for not getting to the barn today. That leak in the top rafter will be a pain to fix, but as long as it doesn't rain tonight, the chickens will be fine. Moving the cattle and readying them for sale took longer than he thought, and he hasn't even begun tending to the garden like he'd planned either.

He kicks his boots against the steps of the cabin's porch, ridding them of the sticky mud that has accumulated from the day. At the noise, a hound dog lifts her sleepy head from the hay pile next to the barn.

"Were you productive at all today, Gal?" Ellis directs the question at the walker coonhound who stands to stretch her legs. When she yawns, he says, "I think not."

He makes his way for the door, going over all of the things he needs to do inside tonight - fry up a couple squirrels for him and Gal, try to patch the gaping hole in one of his only decent shirts that remain, and clean his rifle for tomorrow's hunting trip.

Ellis leaves his boots at the door and enters the cabin with Gal on his heels, both of them completely oblivious to the chaos occurring in the woods just beyond their home.

-Two days prior-

Mrs. Madison Wright wants to love North Carolina. Since arriving from southern Kentucky, she has been trying to list off all the things she admires about her new home. So far, she fancies the way the birds sing in the early morning, the way the bubbling creek sounds at night, and the way it really isn't all that different from her childhood home, further north in the Appalachians. She is in awe of the mountainous terrain that seems unforgiving and scary while also managing to be utterly beautiful all at once. Mostly she appreciates the way this place reminds her of her father. He would have loved it here.

This is supposed to be her fresh start, but the scene before her is making that fresh start seem further and further away.

Madison's husband scowls from beside her at the quaint white house he's just purchased. "I hope you can turn this dump into a home," he says to her, glaring at the vines making their way up the house's faded siding. The yard around the property has grown up, and the house is indeed rough-looking. The porch is caving in several places, and cracks can be seen among the windows.

She just nods in response to Abner's pessimism, afraid to speak for fear of maddening him further.

The home was all they could afford on such short notice.

Abner Wright feels as if this ridiculous move, this pitiful new home, this dread he experiences about the future, and even the damned weeds that consume the ground beneath him, is all his wife's fault.

A blacksmith by trade, Abner is skilled enough to make a decent living. He'd learned the trade as a child from his father, and his homemade tools bring in just enough money to support both himself and Madison. And if she wasn't such a failure to him, he might have been able to live his life out in his home county instead of coming to Carolina to start over.

He probably loved her once, Madison reckons.

Madison and Abner had known each other since they were children, they had been friends even. At her father's death, Madison was 21 years old and still had no suitor, and Abner, at 25, had no wife. He had offered her marriage, hoping their childhood friendship could blossom into more. He just wanted what he believed every man wanted - a family - a homemaker wife and sons to teach the trade he loved to. While she was independent and maddenly strong-willed, Madison knew she couldn't support herself alone. Abner seemed to be a comfortable enough companion, so she had agreed.