She was talking to me. It was the way she’d said Well, there you are that struck me. She didn’t say, Who are you? or Who have we here? or even Look what the cat dragged in.No, it was There you are, as if she’d been calling me, looking for me, waiting for me, for a long time.“Come on,” she beckoned. “And bring your friend. Is that Archibald with you? I saw him come by today. I think he got a new gun too, and wanted to show it off. I told him I expected you home any minute, but he said he couldn’t stay. You know you’re supposed to be back before supper.” She stepped out into the rain and put her shawl around my shoulders, guiding me into the cabin, every step, every movement showing her age.“You too, young man,” she said to Early, slowly reaching for another blanket from the porch and wrapping it around him. “Usually, Martin brings home stray cats and dogs, and occasionally a stray boy. Let’s do our introductions, shall we. I’m Eustasia Johannsen.” She held out her hand, spotted and wrinkled.Early took it in his.
