Sorry I'm late tonight... it was another busy day! Thank you all once again for the feedback and all of you who read these stories. I'm thrilled there are folks out there who like to read them!

Let's not miss a beat...

Father Andre had not been specific when he spoke about Madame Amelia, only that they would eventually cross her lands. Staying close to the river, Athos spotted the simple, A-framed house built of river rock, daub, and timber. Its awkward shape was more suited for a fairy tale than an actual home. The door was nothing more than two pieces of hand-scraped wood held together with broad straps of leather. Two windows were covered with shutters that failed to keep the winds from entering. Gaps in the wood hinted to a fire and lanterns inside and smoke billowed from a chimney. Chickens were scattered in the yard, pecking at grubs, worms, and table scraps. A goose and several ducks waddled nearby.

The early morning sun peered over the horizon in colors ranging from pink and yellow to bright orange, with puffed white clouds that kissed the mountains in the distance. It was a promise of a clear day, but an icy chill persisted.

A small lean-two stood to the right of the house filled with wood. Several pieces were scattered on the ground near the front and near the splitting stump. An orange tabby cat stretched his front legs, clawed at a piece of wood, and yawned before jumping from his hiding place and onto the stump and staring at the strangers that walked toward the home. Once they spotted the intruders, the chickens scattered and squawked. A clatter of metal rang within the home, and then the cat jumped and hid within the rafters of the lean-to. The ducks rushed for the crudely built chicken coop that desperately needed a new roof. The goose puffed its wings and arched its long neck.

A hand appeared at the edge of a shutter, pushed it gently outward, and the face of a woman peered between the gap between the shutter and its frame.

"Mademoiselle Amelia!" Athos called toward the house. He pulled the mare to a stop and waited. "I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. Father Andre said you might help us?" Unsure of what was on the other side of the door, he positioned himself in front of the queen, who remained seated and curious.

"Father Andre?" The shutter was pushed farther open. "He sent you?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle," Athos said.

"Madame," Amelia corrected and closed the shutter.

Athos nodded and then looked over his shoulder. "It may not look like much, Your Majesty—"

"As long as it's warm and food is available, I don't care what it looks like," Anne said with a hint of a grateful smile. "Please, Athos," Anne grasped the pommel of the saddle with chilled hands, "help me down."

Amelia opened the front door of the simple home. Petite, standing only four feet tall, with silver hair that was braided and coiled at the back of her head, she looked the part of a farmer's wife. She had crow's feet, laugh lines, and a small mole just below her left eye. Her plain brown dress was partially covered with a stained apron that hung nearly to the tips of her shoes and she wiped her hands within the folds before allowing it to fall back into place.

"If Father Andre sent you, then please," Amelia stood off to the side and motioned with her hand toward her home, "come — you both look half froze."

Anne looked at Athos, who nodded and walked with her to the house. He led the little mare, and she followed with her ears perked forward while watching the ducks and chickens resume their morning rituals. The goose remained on alert, feathers puffed to increase its appearance of size.

"Thank you," Anne said.

Amelia swallowed, looked at the woman's fine clothes that were dirty, torn, and frayed near the hem. Her hair was askew and her nails were caked with dirt. Smudges of dust ran across her right cheek and chin. Amelia frowned and said, "Please, call me Amelia," she said.

"Anne," the queen said humbly and entered the home with a sigh of relief when the heat of the fire warmed her face.

Athos took a deep breath and said, "I'll see to the horse." He turned, but paused suddenly and said, "If I may?"

Amelia frowned and looked at Athos.

"Might I purchase one of your chickens?" Athos motioned with his chin toward the queen. "She needs something to eat and time to rest —"

Amelia nodded and pointed toward a red hen near the woodpile. "She has produced no eggs for a long while." She quirked a smile. "I don't tolerate leeches, particularly the feathered kind." She grabbed her skirts and then entered her home and shut the door.

Anne stood before the fire. She warmed her hands and then turned to look at Amelia. "I apologize for the imposition."

"It's not much," Amelia said, "but it serves its purpose." She took a deep breath and motioned for Anne's cloak.

"It's warm," Anne said, and with a shrug, the cloak slipped from her shoulders, "it's dry." She looked around the room that was shaped like a square. A cast-iron pot had been placed on the hearth of the fireplace, a flat pan hung from the wall to the right. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the rafters near both windows. A narrow bed with a quilted blanket folded atop stood to the far right of the room. It was quaint, simple, but clean. "It's a home."

Amelia hung the dirty cloak from a hook near the door, and then patted the front of her apron. "My husband and I came here after the war… it was quiet, peaceful, and it provided us everything we needed."

Anne turned with her back to the fire and said, "Where is he, your husband?"

Amelia reached for a woven basket filled with herbs and dried vegetables. "The monastery," she said and didn't say more. She looked toward the door when she heard the squawking of a chicken, and then the thump of an axe. "Father Andre and the monks see to him —"

"I'm sorry —"

Amelia shrugged and said, "There is nothing for you to be sorry for… Father Andre and Brother Noah visit frequently. They chop wood for me twice a year, bring me more chickens — they even brought me a goat once." Her voice shook as she spoke, but there was a hint of remorse and sorrow attached to it. "Since Father Andre sent you here, he must have had a good reason."

"He did."

Amelia nodded and then grabbed her dutch oven and held it against her hip. "Perhaps your friend Athos has the chicken ready… a hearty soup sounds comforting, does it not?"

Anne smiled and said, "It sounds wonderful."

Amelia walked toward the door and peeked out. She chuckled and said, "It would appear that the Kings's Musketeer is not trained in the art of cleaning chickens." She giggled and adjusted the iron pot at her hip. "He's going to look like one before he's finished."

Anne stepped away from the fireplace and peaked around the edge of the door and chuckled. "Yes," she said, "he is."