To Know Her by Name by Lori Wick Page A

warns me to start home even if it’s dark, but I never listen. You got some coffee?”
    â€œYeah. I’ll get you a cup.”
    Pup brought two and then sank down on the step next to her neighbor. They drank in silence for a time, and Pup refilled their cups. The sun was breaking through the trees when Mud spoke.
    â€œDo you ever ask yourself if there’s more, Pup? Do you ever wonder if there’s more to this life than panning gold, drinking, and then dying?”
    She was silent for a moment and then admitted, “I did when I was a child, but I’ve seen ugly things since then. It’s easier to believe when you’re a child.”
    Mud’s mind went back to his own childhood. His father had been a mean man, but his mother, in his mind, had been a saint. The thought of her made him want to weep, so he forced her face from his thoughts.
    â€œHow’s the patient?”
    â€œFine. His wound is healing fast. As soon as he gains a little strength, he’ll be on his feet.”
    â€œI sent word.”
    â€œI’ll tell him.”
    Mud turned and looked at her, and Pup returned his stare. Although bloodshot, his eyes still reflected the concern he felt. Why couldn’t Pup find someone? She wasn’t pretty, but she was kind and smart. Why couldn’t McKay see something in her that would make him want to stay?
    â€œGo on home, Mud,” Pup said softly, having read the fatherly look in his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
    â€œCome and tell me when he leaves,” Mud ordered.
    â€œI’ll do that,” Pup promised, and watched as Mud went on his way.

7
    His pants buttoned into place, McKay stood very still at the side of the bed and contemplated his next move. He’d been sitting up in bed and doing a little more in the last few days, but this was the first day he’d even considered moving from the room. He had to try. The days were starting to blur again. Mud had been here on Wednesday, and this was Sunday. At least McKay thought it was Sunday.
    â€œActually,” he said softly, “it might be Monday.”
    With that he took a step toward the door. The floor was a little gritty, but his mind barely registered this fact in his effort to stay on his feet. Moving slowly, his hand first on the bed and then on the wall for balance, he passed over the threshold and got his first look at the whole room. His eyes skimmed over the small stove and cupboards, table and two chairs, but then centered on a high-backed, faded sofa to his right. He made a beeline for the seat. Working at not jarring his shoulder, he lowered himself onto the cushions, the effort causing his breath to come in uneven gasps. McKay let his head fall against the back, his eyes closed.
    I made it, Lord. I actually made it out here. I’m too tired to even look around, but I made it. McKay felt himself dozing off, but no more than a few minutes passed before he heard movement outside. He lifted his head in time to see his hostess come in the door. She stumbled slightly on a raised board that ran across the threshold but didn’t lose her balance. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice. She glanced his way but continued on to the table to set down a basket of clothes. She then turned and looked at him.
    â€œYou must be feeling stronger.”
    â€œSomewhat,” his voice sounded a little weary. “I couldn’t find a shirt.”
    â€œI’ve got one washed for you. Do you want some help?”
    â€œI would love to refuse, but I can’t.”
    Pup needed no other urging. She went back into his room, opened the closet door and emerged with a denim shirt. It wasn’t pressed but it smelled fresh and looked clean. Pup helped him ease it over the bandage on his shoulder and even held the side when he put it on his good arm. She hadn’t stared or made any fuss, but she was relieved when he buttoned the front and covered his