A Chill Wind From Heaven
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 4
The old Apache gave a shrug, moving off the porch, kneeling by Alexis, a rancid, smoky aroma making her nostrils twitch. His deep-set, black eyes searched hers.
“Another witch woman,” he declared with a nod, then grasped the cord harness with sinewy, powerful hands.
Together with Llywelynn, they managed to slide her up snow-clad steps, aggravating bruises, shooting pains down her spine. Teeth clenched, Alexis endured until they settled her on a thick Navaho rug before the crackling hearth.
Llywelynn hurriedly shut the heavy door, leaning her back against it for a few seconds ... The old Apache shook melted snow off his blanket, then wrapped it about thin shoulders.
Glance darting about, Alexis quickly took in her surroundings, able to see left of the door, noting large, man-sized work boots, riding boots and much larger outer wear hanging on antler racks, then recalled Llywelynn mentioning a gold mine, and the death of her father caused by exploding nitroglycerine. Once again, she checked out her petite saviour. The sheepskin coat, large revolver and a storm lantern were all out of the old west, but somehow, the girl didn’t exactly fit.
Llywelynn pushed away from the door, sweeping across the main room. Another kerosene lantern hung in a brass sconce on the end of a partition separating matching bunk beds.
‘Her and her father,’ Alexis mused. ‘A mystical, magical pixie, alone, her father dead ... and she has a gold mine? Interesting.”
Llywelynn lifted the chimney, struck a match, then lit and trimmed the wick, revealing more details of the interior.
Positioned before the crackling fire, Alexis took in particulars. An open doorway led into a back room, but the light wasn’t sufficient to penetrate shadows. Above, there was the peak of a cedar shake roof, neatly trimmed rafters and peeled log joists. The rear attic space was covered by flooring. Access to the loft was by a ladder on one of three support beams.
‘Wonder why the beds aren’t up there in the loft?’ Alexis thought distractedly. ‘Warmer in the winter.’?’
A startling contrast with the cabin’s crude exterior, inside walls were beautifully finished, panelled in carefully fitted, diagonal strips of yellow cedar. Rugs covered portions of plank flooring that appeared to be sanded white pine.
Though rustic, the furnishings were neat and functional. Four hand-crafted chairs and a square kitchen table were placed midway between fireplace and beds. Lacy curtains over darker cloth covered the two small windows, giving the cabin a feminine air. Between the heavy door and window, there was a rack of weapons. She identified a Sharps buffalo rifle, smaller lever-action rifles and two shotguns
Even the kitchen looked to be well-stocked, shelves loaded with tins of commercial canned goods. Other shelves were laden with jars of preserves. Net bags stuffed with onions and garlic dangled from ceiling joists. Large crockery vats lined one section of floor. Other shelves held mugs, plates and bowls. Copper pans and cast iron pots hung on pegs.
The Apache moved, staring down, silently regarding her. Alexis stared back, meeting the challenge. Llywelynn cleared her throat, breaking the exchange.
“Are you hungry Naz-teh-pan?”
Still staring at Alexis, he shook his head. “Ate biscuits. Drank coffee.”
Llywelynn sighed, just then noticing crumbs on the table. There was an open jam jar, the butter dish, a mug and her blackened coffee pot. She tamped down exasperation.
“Shoulda’ hid the biscuits and padlocked the door,” she muttered under her breath, tossing gloves onto a bench. When she pulled off the bulky knit cap, Alexis started. A long, thick mass of auburn curls tumbled down to Llywelynn’s waist. The pixie shook her head, scattering drops of melting frost, just then becoming aware of the other woman’s rapt attention.
“You have gorgeous hair,” Alexis said quietly.
. Cheeks flushing, Llywelynn averted her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, shrugging off her sheepskin coat, hanging it on an elkhorn rack next to the door, settling on a bench, peeling out of the knee-high moccasins. Thick wool socks and lighter cotton ones followed. Dainty bare feet slipped into a pair of fur-lined slippers.
Alexis looked from her to the Apache, then back to the leaf-green eyes of her rescuer, asking, “is ... he a friend of yours?”
“A friend?” Llywelynn made a face, saying with a gesture, “Alexis, this is Naz-teh-pan. He’s a Shaman, and he ain’t a tame Injun. His band of renegades has a winter camp back in the mountains. Since he isn’t tryin’ to kill us, I’d guess you could say fer’ now he’s friendly.”
The Apache snorted. “No hurt medicine woman. Heap big thunder. Come see what light sky.” Once again, bird-bright black eyes bored into Alexis. He scowled, shaking his head. “Now two warrior witch women in mountains. Heap big medicine.”
He flipped part of the blanket over his head, tightened the wrap about shoulders, pushed opened the door, stepping into the night.
“Nasty, rude old rascal!” Llywelynn said with an affectionate chortle, pushing the timber door shut. She lifted an oak beam into steel brackets bolted to door planks and heavy timber framing.
“Is he dangerous?” Alexis said wonderingly.
Llywelynn shook her head, combing fingers through the long tumble of auburn curls. “No more than a diamondback rattler,” she answered, coming to kneel beside Alexis. “He’s Apache. Found him near dead from an infected gunshot wound up by Silver Spring. A big medicine place. Goddess Mother spared him. Used me to work a healin’.”
Alexis tried to accept her frank statement, still having a confused, internal struggle with lingering unbelief. Of one thing she was certain. The pixie wasn’t a girl; and, for the first time in years, she was powerfully attracted to another female.
Divested of the bulky sheepskin coat, Llywelynn looked even smaller. In spite of a shapeless, heavy flannel shirt and loose denim coveralls, Alexis thought she looked enchanting.
“I bet you’re stunning in a dress,” Alexis commented, guessing that a delightful frame was hidden within the masculine outfit.
Llywelynn blushed, suddenly looking shy. “A dress ain’t practical when muckin’ stalls,” she answered quietly, turning away, picking up a stove handle, sparing Alexis a glance over one shoulder. “‘Thet’s what I was doin’ ‘fore you dropped out of the sky. Now, I’ll heat water for tea, and so you can wash.”
Alexis gave a nod and winced, her neck complaining. She watched as Llywelynn lifted a lid on the cast iron stove, poking in kindling, split wood and several chunks of coal. The lid dropped into place with a resounding ‘clang’.
Llywelynn took up a damp cloth, she wiped crumbs from her small, square table, sealed the jam jar and covered the dish of butter. After dropping the Apache’s mug in a sink, she twisted the handle on a brass spigot, filling two galvanized buckets. When both were on the stove, she partly filled the sink.
“I’m surprised that you have running water,” Alexis noted. “Considering the historical era, I’d have expected a pump.”
Llywelynn shrugged. “Only cold water, she said, dipping hands into the sink, soaping and scrubbing them clean. “One of these days I’m gettin’ a stove with a heating tank, and a big enamelled tub.” She gave a sigh. “Would love to have a hot soak right now.” She glanced over at Alexis. “I’m heatin’ water for you. You can’t just spend the night layin’ on the rug in that strange outfit. Yer’ probably needin’ a wash.”
“I’ll fix that now,” Alexis told her, fingering wrist fastenings and micro seals on suit gloves, wincing when she tried removing them. “Everything hurts. I’ll need your help. My muscles are still aching, and not too responsive.”
“Not surprising’, seein’ you pretty much kilt’ ‘yerself.”
Alexis winced, nodded, then asked, “however did you manage running water?”
“Pa built a dam back up in the canyon,” Llywelynn explained, rinsing and towelling off her hands. Blasted a deep trench through bedrock down from Silver Spring. Laid galvanized pipe deep enough so it wouldn’t freeze.”
“You mentioned Silver Spring before.”
Llywelynn nodded. “Apache’s call it magic water. It’s a big artesian spring. Never freezes, ‘cept for the outflow creek. We crossed that comin’ here.”
Attention shifting, she moved heating buckets, filling a large, enamelled canner, placing it on the stove next to a full kettle. After rinsing out the coffee pot, she added water, putting that on to boil.
Alexis watched, following every movement. Abruptly, Llywelynn turned, planting hands on hips.
“Yer’ makin’ me nervous! Naughty thoughts keep leakin into my head!”
Alexis blinked, staring back. “What? Can you read minds, too?”
“Course, unless I weave a spell to keep you out,” Llywelynn stated. “Not certain I can do thet’. Goddess knows, our minds and spirits flowed together out there when I was wide open, channeling the power. It’s like our minds ... are tangled! Now, I keep gettin’ embarrassin’ flashes from you. It’s ... distractin’!”
“Well, I can’t help being fascinated,” Alexis replied. “You’re very pretty. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m getting interesting feelings coming back from you. Don’t mean to embarrass you.”
Llywelynn blew out an exasperated breath, crossing back to Alexis, helping remove the outer gloves. “Mornin’ comes too soon. Let’s get you out of this suit and washed.”
When her fingers were free, Alexis released helmet neck seals. She winced, easing out of the helmet, setting it aside, gingerly laying her head on the thick Navajo rug.
“My neck isn’t happy. I could use a pillow. Please?”
In moments, Llywelynn retrieved a pillow, slipping it under her head.
She leaned over Alexis, taking up a poker, opening a brass screen. After pushing about chunks of burning wood, she added split pine cordwood to the blaze and closed the screen.
“Durned Apache ate my last three biscuits and drained the pot of coffee!” She complained. “Leastwise he kept the place warm. Added wood to the fireplace. “You want some coffee?”
“Coffee would be welcome,” Alexis replied, fingers working at micro-seals on her outer suit, opening seams, peeling back various layers. When she tried sitting up to pull off boots, she gasped and collapsed back.
“Sop thet’,” Llywelynn ordered. “Let me help.”
Alexis gave instructions about opening seals. Soon, the flight boots separated from suit legs. Electric heater couplings parted, then liners and socks were removed. Together, carefully shifting Alexis, Llywelynn slid the suit out from under the woman. Alexis worked seals on an inner layer of shimmering gold cloth. Almost immediately, a much stronger, obnoxious stink assaulting them both.
“Guess I shit myself,” Alexis commented dryly.
“There you go agin’!” Llywelynn opined. “Foul mouth like a randy cowboy!”
“I shall try to restrain my nasty tongue,” Alexis retorted with a snicker.
She parted the thin fabric covering her chest, struggling to remove her arms from sleeves. That done, she plucked adhesive sensor pads off exposed skin, aware that Llywelynn was staring at her chest.
“Thet’s kind of pretty,” the girl said, pointing at sky blue material trimmed with a hint of lace. “Not like any kind of undergarment I’ve ever seen.”?”