"Senor, me llamo Jeffy. Lo siento, senor, no quiero molestar a nadie, solo tengo sueno y no tengo dinero para dormir adentro del meson. Me puedo dormir con los caballos?"

He was always up and about at the crack of dawn and humming to the fire in the evening.

Folks said Will was as old as the hills and about as stupid. Not to point any fingers, though, those folks, at least where Will's smarts were concerned were fooled. "Cain't never judge a book by its cover," Willow so often said, followed right after by a chuckle. And, Will knew.

He knew how old the hills were and he knew books. Mostly, though, he knew people.

Preachers said he would make an excellent preacher. Willow said, "Be a Baptist," and paused for just a breath of time before going on, "or be a preacher." That dumbfounded the preacher, pretty much ended the conversation, and let Will get on his way.

Business men said Will should have been a business man. Will said, "If I had a nickel for ever' time I heard that, I'd be a rich man looking for someone to give me more money." The business man, if he were wise, thought there may be a grain of truth in that somewhere. Otherwise, he just thought Will was stupid. In either case, Will would set off on his way.

The Indians said he could have been an Indian. Will said, "could be," for he thought all their sage, homey wisedom parceled together made a good deal of sense.

Willow felt both happy and sad for town folk like those in Hatrack. They enjoyed oneanother's company for both joy and miserable reasons. He said, "A miserable man loves miserable company."

Some other folks just coldn't help being lonely. They didn't have the gift of gab or the spirit in them that would get them to exercise their own will. He said, "There will always be the haves and the have-nots."

In either case, Will was around to provide what he could. He'd heard it said, "There but by the Grace of God go I." He felt that in his bones. In some way or other, he was that man or that woman in need of something. Will always had atleast something.

Her smile faltered; now what was she to do? Miss Honey had left Hatrack, so there was no chance of boarding at the charm school again. The only other person she knew in town was Ahavah, and Aidan couldn't bring herself to ask the kind woman to take on another mouth to feed. "I suppose," she thought to herself, "I could go back to living in the Open. It wasn't so bad. And if it gets cold, I can always sneak into a barn or such for the night."

She cheered a little at this, smiled at the man again, and headed for the door. At least she could find out what was going on in the barn now.

"Buenos dias, muchatito," he said to the boy and bending over the two sprawled on the ground.

The boy cried out in Spanish, and Aidan only recognized the word for help. The old man who had spoken to her inside came out and offered her a hand. "Such an unbecoming situation for a lady," he chuckled. Aidan grinned, and let him help her up. She kept a wary eye on the man in black, and offered a hand to the boy she'd run into. When he spoke to her in broken English, her heart melted. "Yes, we'll go. But I have something I need to do first." She pulled him to his feet as gently as she could, then put his hand on the old man's arm.

Aidan turned to face the stranger. Her infamous Irish temper was at high boil now, and all common sense had left her. She stormed over to the man, fire dancing in her green eyes. An overwhelming desire to slap him across the face began to bubble up inside her, but she wasn't tall enough to reach. Instead, Aidan settled for asking him a few pressing questions. Somewhere inside, a little voice advised, "Keep your head, Aidan. Don't go sticking your foot in your mouth." But Aidan had never been very good at listening...

"Just who do you think you are, scaring a poor boy out of his mind like that? You should be ashamed of yourself! What did you say to him? And what exactly were you doing in the barn anyways?"

It was about this time that Aidan's mind caught up with her mouth, and as quickly as the tirade had come, it stopped. It occured to her that this man was most likely armed and probably wouldn't take too kindly to a mere 17 year old scolding him as if he were a child. She gulped, but kept her glare steady on him. Aidan still had plently of anger, but she'd been doused with a helping of cold fear, which brought the fire of her temper under control.

And now, this girl... It had been a long time since anybody had the guts to say THAT to him. He simply smiled and tipped his hat.

With this, he reached down and lifted the right side of his coat ever so slightly. Through the blackness of his garments glinted the silver hilt of his bowie knife.

Aidan looked over, and saw the boy she'd helped asleep in the chair. Her entrance had startled him awake, and he gave her a sleepy smile. Aidan smiled back, and watched him for a moment. She wanted to ask him if he was all right, but from their previous experience, it didn't seem like he spoke any English.

"Lazy people! That's all it is. Just plain laziness!" Shep slammed the oven door just missing burning his thumb for the third time today.

"I'm here working, ain't I?"

"Little bit o' snow and suddenly everyone decides they don't need to abide by their commitments!"

"OWWWWW!!" Shep let out a streak fit to peel the paint had anyone been silly enough to paint an Inn's kitchen.

He glared at the clearly terrified slip of a girl who had the misfortune of being assigned to deliver the news that no butter would be available today, or any day until the cold snap broke. It was just too cold.

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?" Shep bellowed.

Close to tears the child turned and fled out into the cold, preferring it immeasurably to the blistering heat of the kitchen.

"And just what are people supposed to have on my scones?" Shep yelled after the fleeing form.

"Laziness! Just plain laziness through and through. Apparently I'm the only one that has to work when THE SNOW AIN'T EVEN TO THE WINDA SILLS!" He directed out the open kitchen window.

Even though the weather was frigid outside, the stoves and ovens kept the kitchen just slightly below sweltering.

Besides, the pies wouldn't sit on the sill properly when the window was closed.

Will didn't much care for bullies, but he also didn't much care for getting involved in other's people's disagreements. 'Specially when one of the disagreeing parties was a big as the baker.

He stuck his hands under his arms to try to keep some feeling in his fingers.

He stiffened as the baker came to the window, but relaxed as the big oaf didn't even glance outside.

Will watched the steam rise from the cooling pies. The steam seemed almost to form words in the air. The words said, "EAT ME!"