Disclaimer: I own nothing of GWTW.

Chapter 6

"It could have stayed in the other room. You've lived with horses before," Scarlett pointed out.

"Not by choice."

Well, the horse was gone and it was done. No need to bring up unpleasant jailhouse interactions from the past.

She snatched the bottle of whiskey from the table just as Rhett reached for it again.

"That's enough of that for tonight. We'll have to make it last and we might need it," she looked at the fire and back to the children, "if anyone gets hurt."

Rhett narrowed his eyes but nodded. "And what will you do, then?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Without your daily nightcaps, and more," he stubbed out his cigar. "Don't try to pretend that you don't partake on the regular. I see—and pay—the liquor bills for our, er, lovely abode."

That stung. "I imagine I'll do better than you if you want to make it a challenge."

"Challenge accepted," he said, his voice honeyed yet practically dripping with sarcasm at the same time. "Though it remains to be seen what we deem to be the prize."

They finished eating in silence. She carefully wrapped up half her roll for breakfast in the morning and put it in the tea kettle next to the front door for safekeeping, although she wanted to finish it. Her mind whirled with concerns for the next day, but it was far past time to retire.

"I would ask you to help me undress but it seems as if you started the job on the train."

"I felt compelled to help. You looked like a doll with a broken back the way you were hunched over sleeping in that corset. It frightened your offspring."

"How did you get it off without exposing—"

"It was tricky but I have my ways."

"I'm sure you do." An unpleasant image of Rhett removing another woman's corset from beneath her skirts in another elegant train compartment assailed her mind's eye before she squashed it.

"That bruise on your hip is rather nasty," he remarked further. "I would sleep on my side if I were you."

As if she needed him to tell her that, and how did he see her bruise if he was working to remove her corset from underneath her clothes?

Scarlett grabbed the valise and the pitcher of water and went into the other room to strip down to her chemise. She looked longingly at the night dress but decided the delicate silk should wait until she managed a proper bath. She did cover up with the dressing gown, feeling inexplicably shy.

She searched for a handkerchief in her reticule and miraculously found one, which she wet to wash her face and hands. She brushed her hair and braided it back, her mind on the man in the next room.

He used to brush her hair. He used to, before …

When she re-entered Rhett had undressed as well, down to his drawers from what she could see above the sheets. He was on his regular side of the bed, and so if she slept on the other side of her injured hip she would be facing the wall, and not him.

She'd thought he might smirk at her, at least make a rude or snide comment, but instead, he kept his head turned away and she felt disappointment, for reasons she didn't care to explore.

She draped the dressing gown at the bottom of the bed, crawled in, and fell asleep before her head touched the pillow.

Hours later and it had all been a dream and she was back in New Orleans on her honeymoon. Scarlett knew this because she felt warm and safe, with Rhett cuddled up behind her, that smell of leather and horses and cigar smoke all around her, and fresh coffee a few feet away, cocooning her.

She opened her eyes to dusty hand-hewn log walls. No, it was not New Orleans.

She gazed out the window, reluctant to leave the remnants of the fantasy. The day had dawned early and colder than the night before, with the sun shining mercilessly off all the white and winter landscape.

But she could have sworn she'd smelled Rhett and coffee. She turned over and studied the space beside her in the bed, running her hand over it. Yes, the rough linen was still warm, over the seam and completely on her side.

A mug passed in front of her face.

"Here," Rhett said.

"You found coffee yesterday? How wonderful," she breathed as she sat up.

"One half-full bag. No cream, however." He sat across from her, the white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He'd wet his hair but hadn't shaved. She liked it.

Again, Scarlett was reminded of their honeymoon. How handsome she'd realized he was then, and how she enjoyed looking at him through the eyes of other women. It had been a wonderful trip, until the one night, but then he comforted her the next.

The nightmares, she thought with a start. What would happen if she had a nightmare in this cabin, with him lying right beside her?

"There's a little butter and sugar if you need it."

Butter and sugar? She wondered what else he had snatched and not mentioned yet.

"It's fine." she took a sip, then another.

She heard giggling and turned to see Ella and Bonnie sitting up and playing together in their bed. Sounds of furniture being pushed across the floorboards resonated from the loft area.

"Wade is clearing out a space for himself upstairs," Rhett said. "I checked it thoroughly. No vermin to speak of, but these little varmints here are hungry. The ham is thawing out, but not fast enough."

He reached over and tickled Bonnie and Ella, who had already dissolved into giggles at being called varmints. "I've brought in a cauldron of snow to melt. There's a tub to fill and wash grubby girls in."

"I can make cornmeal cakes and fry a couple of apples in the ham fat for breakfast," Scarlett said. "Don't thaw all the ham out, it has to last. We'll have a bit of it for dinner."

She stood and stretched her neck. "I need to check that other room for what might be stored. Was there any food upstairs?"

"No. There's a root cellar, however."

She perked up immediately. "Have you looked in it yet?"

"I thought we would look together. More coffee?"

"No, save it. I'll make red eye gravy with it for the ham at dinner."

Her mind started to calculate. "I need to know everything you put in those sacks. And I need to see what's in the cellar now that it's light. Is the ham the only meat?"

"Pretty much. I did manage to pinch a mince pie, but it is rather the worse for the ride."

A mince pie would do nicely and should be eaten before the ham is used up… of course, they would take tiny slices to make it last.

"How many bullets do you have?"

He cocked his head.

"For your pistols. You're going to need to hunt."

"I have plenty of bullets but our provisions will last at least a week, Scarlett. Besides, the animals won't come out until a day or two after a snowstorm. There may be no need."

She snorted. "Do you think I'm a fool? It's February 7th and we're halfway up a mountain and less than a hundred miles from Canada. That snow's not melting anytime soon and there will be more before it's all over."

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he regarded the girls, who had stopped playing and were watching them both wide-eyed. "We will be fine."

"I'll make breakfast, you need to get to work on making a path to the privy."

He lifted both eyebrows.

"You refuse to live in a cabin with a horse, and I'm not living in a cabin with five people and no access to the privy for each and every one of them. Besides, take Wade with you, he needs to get some fresh air and be in the presence of another male at least every couple of hours."

"Bonnie's not fully—"

"She will be very soon, I'll see to that."

His dubious expression spoke volumes, but she'd show him right quickly what she could do.

"So," she said briskly, rising to draw the dressing gown around her, and ignoring her sore muscles and Rhett's demeanor at her bossiness. "Let's get started."

Surprisingly, Rhett complied and made progress toward her goals as the morning moved along. Yet she didn't dare to order Rhett around too much, and tried to remember to ask nicely, but of course, she forgot in her haste and did bark at him a few times, to which he laughed. Or retorted in such a manner that she tried hard not to do it again. Until she forgot, and so on.

She started on breakfast and made preparations for dinner while the menfolk worked outside. Wade came in from time to time, saying Rhett told him to warm up. Rhett, however, stayed outside working, even when Wade told him the meal was ready.

After Scarlett got herself and her daughters cleaned up and dressed the girls continued to play and laugh. Bonnie, still fascinated by Ella, amused herself by touching her sister's hair, examining her tiny and elegant hands and feet, and comparing sizes and lengths to her own.

She pulled Ella to the window and marveled at how the sun made the coppery tresses glow. Ella smiled at the toddler and gave her a spontaneous smacking kiss on her cheek.

Rhett came in, stomping his feet. "Daddy," Bonnie said, " isn't Ella beautiful?"

He agreed of course, and made over Ella for a moment, to both girls' delight. Scarlett wondered at her youngest child, so sure of her father's devotion that she didn't feel jealousy.

She continued to watch with a faint smile on her face before it stiffened. She had to keep them alive, the two girls and the boy upstairs. Ella and Wade were all that was left of their fathers, and Bonnie … She looked at Rhett.

Well, she had to keep Bonnie and Rhett alive, too.

It all reminded her of Tara, during the war. Too much was reminding her of Tara during the war.

Scarlett made a plate for Rhett and herself, finishing off only the beef and roll from the night before so the others could have a little more. She saw that Rhett took note but said nothing. Wade went upstairs and the girls resumed their play once they had been excused, and Scarlett was only grateful they could amuse themselves for the time being.

She became all business as she rose from the table and headed toward the loft, Rhett following behind her.

It was warm and nicely appointed, though mostly bare other than the bed Wade had claimed for his own; he had already made it up and set his train and book on the bedside table and folded his clothes on a chair. Cupboard-like doors closed across the opening and gave him privacy as well if he needed it.

They climbed back down and went into the second room. It had a smaller fireplace she hadn't noticed the night before and a wall full of stacked wood, for which she gave silent thanks. The remaining beds were piled with various tools, a couple of mangled metal contraptions, and a long hunting bag containing a bow and arrows.

"Rabbit traps," Rhett said, picking up the contraptions and examining them. Scarlett mentally took note to set the traps with—well, surely she could find something to set them with—when she got a chance.

She pulled the bow from the bag and it fell to the floor into pieces. Damn.

"Planning on shooting something, were you?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I practiced a bit of archery with Stuart and Brent as a girl and I was fairly good at it, then."

"That might be worth seeing," Rhett said, after going through the tools and finding a hammer and a box of assorted nails.

She watched him as he assessed the damage, running his hand over the smooth wood, and something fired within her. She'd never seen—well, she'd never actually seen Rhett fix anything, other than a toy, never seen him as he worked with a tool or anything practical as he was working now, his sleeves rolled up and a flush to his cheeks from shoveling the snow. Other than getting them out of shell-torn Atlanta and driving them all to Rough and Ready that night, she'd never witnessed him labor.

He'd hauled wood and cauldrons of snow all day and his shirt was damp with sweat and clinging to his chest and torso. Her breath caught and her palms suddenly felt warm and clammy.

He repaired the bow in a matter of minutes and then regarded her with somewhat of a bemused expression as she bustled about, taking inventory. There were enough linens of a sort that they wouldn't have to go without while the bedclothes were being washed, which was a good thing.

Rhett built a fire in the smaller fireplace, and the entire cabin became cozier. Ella and Bonnie wandered in and began to clamor for a room of their own, addressing Rhett because they doubtlessly knew he would be the better bet.

"Absolutely not," Rhett said, but his eyes softened as the little faces fell. Scarlett started to protest, but once she quickly realized the implications of sleeping beside Rhett with no one else in the room, decided against it.

"But Wade has one," Ella ventured. She shot her mother a trepidatious glance and then twisted her hands in her skirts at her boldness.

"We want one too," Bonnie frowned, crossing her tiny arms across her chest.

"See here, Bonnie, Wade will be warm in the loft because the heat rises, but I'm not sure if we're going to keep two fires going all the time," Rhett said jovially. "And you have a nice warm place in here by your mother and me. Won't that be better?"

"No." Bonnie set her face in an expression that mirrored both her mother and the florid Irish grandfather she would never meet. "If Brother has one we want one too!"

Ella shyly chimed in. Bonnie jumped up and down and pleaded, quite beguilingly, and Rhett of course gave in, moving the tools to a corner of the big room and blocking it off with broken furniture, and hanging a sheet to cover the other storage items. He proceeded to move in the smaller beds from the main room, his glum expression not lost on Scarlett as he did so.

After the midday meal, the girls laid down for a nap in their new quarters and Wade retired to read for a bit.

"Let's see the other buildings," Rhett said. They had to go outside to access the root cellar, and on the way, he dug the burlaps bags out of the snow and showed her the contents.

In addition to the coffee and beaten-about mince pie, there was a pound of butter and a five-pound sack of sugar! A tin of tea leaves, a smaller bag of flour, containers of salt and pepper, and a precious block of lard rounded out the contents.

They had to duck their heads to get in the root cellar, built of creek stones on three sides with a single tan clay wall.

There were potatoes, turnips, and rutabagas stored in barrels of sand, along with a few onions, some dried beans hanging from the ceiling, and not much else. The vegetables would help avoid sickness, but wouldn't last for long.

The smokehouse was of a similar build, constructed of the same stones, with an extension on one end complete with a wide bench for whoever might want to keep up the fire and observe the progress.

Scarlett noted that Rhett had started a small fire in the pit and vented it to the outside; probably where he had been warming up all day instead of inside the cabin.

She surveyed the empty shelves. "I don't suppose you found any meat in here, either."

Rhett seated himself on the bench and shook his head. "I figure the loggers left around the end of October or first of November. They probably planned to be back in the spring with supplies and took all the meat with them."

"Well, the traps can be set immediately and you should be able to start hunting in the next day or so."

"As I said before it may not be necessary, but when hunting is warranted and the game is out and about, I will do it."

She whirled on him. "We just discussed this. We may not be able to get out until mid-April. There are three more weeks in February, nearly five in March, and the first two of April make ten so we'll go with ten." Scarlett did a quick calculation. "Ten weeks, three meals a day, five people are more than a thousand meals. It's 1,050 meals to be exact. Do you see more than a thousand meals here?"

"Are you counting a two-year-old as a full person?"

"Have you seen Bonnie eat? I'm surprised you haven't mentioned it. She's inherited my appetite."

"Scarlett, with all due respect, I am a ship captain. I know very well how to feed a gaggle of men and survive in adverse conditions."

"Good. You can help me keep my children from dying of scurvy."

"Scarlett," he laughed. "It takes months to get scurvy. Even longer for healthy, well-fed children such as these."

Oh, so you think it's fine to take them to the brink of scurvy, then?"

"Again, a ship captain. Why do you think that one bag is mostly apples and greens?"

"You may have been a captain but I'm sure someone else did the food acquiring and preparing. That may look like plenty of collards but when they're cooked the amount will go down considerably."

His face fell minutely at her words before his lips twisted in a wry manner and he spoke again. "'Blow, blow, thou wind. Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude.'"

She felt momentarily chagrined. "I do thank you, very much, for having the foresight to get them. And for the wagon and horse. And everything you've done."

Rhett fell silent and Scarlett stared out the tiny window at the evergreen trees, something she remembered from the war prickling at her memory. She'd heard once, at a time near the end when General Lee reportedly sent army details out every day to gather whatever they could from the woods and landscape to avoid sickness.

"How did you eat during the war? Did you scavenge and forage?"

"Rarely. Mostly I played poker with the Union soldiers."

"I see."

He shrugged.

"They had money and better food."

"Well, there's no one here to beat or fleece or skin or trick; no hustling or outwitting will do you any good, no hands to shake or palms to grease. The only thing that will keep us all alive is work."

"I don't mind work and you're worrying too much. We have shelter and provisions, the snow to melt for water, the woods for hunting—"

"We have to stay on top of it, to make sure it is enough. More than enough. I want to have plenty."

"Enough is a feast when you're starving."

And for some reason, she didn't think he was speaking of food. She huffed in frustration.

"I swore at Tara I would never go hungry again and I won't. Nor any of my folk." She turned back to face him. "The sassafras and poke sprouts will be gone but perhaps I can find some wild onions or garlic. Dilcey told me that the bark of spruce or fir would work so I'll gather that if I can't find any pine. If I can make it into the woods over there where the snow's not so deep maybe I can find something to help."

"'Into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul.'" Understanding dawned in his eyes. "It isn't the war, Scarlett. It's snow on a mountain. We will prevail."

"I know that. But I'm not leaving anything to chance."

She began to pace as much as the small space would allow. "You saw Wade last night. I can't have him worried about food. And I need you to keep him busy physically as much as you can. You'll be better with him." She hated to admit it. "Doing the man's work with firewood and water gathering and path clearing with you will be much better."

She stopped in front of him and smoothed her skirts.

"And I'll keep up with the girls."

"They're scared of you."

It knocked her off guard.

"Scared?"

"Not Bonnie, not yet. Wade and Ella are terrified of you."

Puzzled, her mouth dropped slightly open. "I don't think so."

"You have eyes in your head, don't you? You've never noticed the way Wade's eyes go round and Ella stammers when you're short and snappish?"

She pressed her lips together. Did she not work herself to death to make sure her children would survive and prosper? "My children are not terrified of me."

But even as she denied it, she realized it was true. Wade's eyes did go round, and Ella did stammer, when she was tired or in a snit and spoke sharply to them.

"They are and I won't have it happening here and I certainly won't have it happening to Bonnie. I've been meaning to speak with you about it for a while. You will have to mend your ways or I will agree to nothing."

"Fine," She said through gritted teeth.

"And while I'm working with Wade you'll play with Bonnie and Ella?"

Play? He was worried about playing when their very lives were at stake.

"I have been playing with them."

"Yes, on the trip with nothing else to occupy you, then you entertained them and yourself. They're children, Scarlett. They'll need the lightheartedness of play, especially in this situation."

"Alright then, I will continue to do what I've been doing already." She rolled her eyes.

"Good to know. Also, with no other source of entertainment, the evenings will be long. As far as the children are concerned, I can tell stories, of course, but it's only a matter of time before mine run dry. Then it will be your turn."

Rhett's stories never ran dry. She narrowed her gaze. "My turn?"

"Yes, it's your turn to share your stories."

"What stories?"

"The stories of your life, Scarlett," and his tone conveyed a message she did not want to receive.

She huffed and turned away. "Fine. My boring stories will put them to sleep, I'm sure."

"Which is the point," he returned drolly, and there wasn't much she could say to that. "And you will be —"

"I will be nice to the children and attempt not to terrify them." The sullen note in her voice could not be avoided.

"So it is settled then. We will live as agreed and soon I will walk out—"

"You will walk out when it's good and melted and warm enough to travel, not before. I'm not going to wait in this cabin, wondering if you're frozen dead in a ditch while these children and I slowly fade away."

He fixed her with that steely dark gaze.

"As much as I appreciate your concern, you know full well that I am a grown man and perfectly able to assess the risks and benefits of any action I choose to take. Also, I'll do what's best for everyone involved, and you will not dictate it."

He stood and loomed over her for a bare second, his huge shadow flickering in the firelight against the wall.

"And you also will not frighten the children further by going on and on about our dire circumstances in front of them. With me and in private is fine, but they need to believe this is all a grand adventure, and you are to do your damnedest to play the part. I mean it, Scarlett. I've never wielded my power over you, my dear. Don't make me start now."

His face was thunder but something flashed across it and she knew, she just knew that for all his flippancy and nonchalance he fully comprehended the precarious position they were in, felt the same gnawing anxiety she did, and the realization both relieved her and doubled her fear at the same time.

She wanted to cry, to dissolve into tears from all the stress and now Rhett had the nerve to threaten her.

Then Scarlett experienced a moment of extended panic as the full impact of Rhett's words and the situation hit her. This was much more than having little food and no domestic help. They'd have to deal with each other, and all the time. No businesses or social engagements or after-daylight activities to occupy them separately; just she and Rhett, all day and all night long … not to mention how he would doubtlessly revert to his pre-trip behavior eventually over the long weeks.

Her heart sank as she contemplated the days to come, filled with Rhett's boorish, snide comments that fired off her temper and soured her day. To be at the mercy of that wicked intelligence and stinging serpent tongue; no one would be the better for it. And there'd be nowhere to hide and no one to run to, no way to fire and fall back.

Forget starvation and malnourishment—why, they'd kill each other before either could happen! Her mind drifted to the three small beings napping inside the cabin. And what would happen to those who were left?

She squared her shoulders and met his gaze eye to eye.

"All right. I might as well play the part, as you say. But you'll have to change your ways too—for— for the good of the children."

"And how would that be?"

Scarlett lifted her chin. "You can't be nasty to me like you usually are."

"Nasty?"

"You know what I mean. The way you are at home. I want you to act like you have the last several weeks while we've been on holiday. Pleasant."

She had, well, she had missed him, the old Rhett she used to know, who teased without real malice, who invigorated her with his presence, laughed easily and often, and kept her on her toes and feeling more alive than she would ever admit.

Thinking of it emboldened her. "As before we were married. Like that, fun, and not as if you despise me."

"You know quite well why I changed. And I don't despise you, Scarlett."

"That's what you say."

"Yes, and you should pay heed to what I say, even though it's not in your nature." He regarded her carefully out of the corner of his eye. "Do you despise me?"

She shrugged. "Not all the time. Not when you're acting decent."

"I suppose I shall have to act decent then, as long as you do."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "If you've paid attention at all," she said with downcast eyes, "you'd have noticed that I only act nasty myself when you provoke me first."

"A matter of opinion," he returned after a moment but did not argue, to her surprise.

She gave a quick nod. "We have a deal and it's settled. Although I still know you'll try to leave before you should. Staying inside a cabin with all of us for extended periods will get to you."

He sat back down and stretched out those long, elegant legs.

"What about you? You'll be getting cabin fever as well, wanting to see to your little gentleman and your businesses."

Oh, he couldn't go a day without mentioning that, could he? And right after he agreed to be decent!

"As with the whiskey, I'll do better than you do. I am absolutely sure." She managed to keep her tone cool and level, with some difficulty.

"And what makes you so positive that you will?"

"I'm a woman. I've been stuck in one place or another my entire life."

And with that, she tossed her head, turned, and left, slamming the door shut behind her.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

"Blow, blow, thou wind. Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude" —Shakespeare, yet again

"Into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul." —John Muir, 1838-1914

Fun facts:

What is Red Eye Gravy?

Red Eye gravy is made with the drippings of a slice of country ham fried and usually, it is just a cup of coffee poured into the pan with a little salt and pepper and simmered to thicken slightly. This is not a thickened gravy with flour, however. Some recipes call for no coffee, just use water.

The gravy is then served on the side or poured over the ham and grits or whatever side you serve it with. Kitchenproject dot com

*I'm not sure if country ham would have been served on a Northern train. If you're a Southerner and can't reconcile red-eye gravy with regular ham, then take some poetic license and substitute it in your mind. Likewise, if collards should be turnip greens or something else. It's fine by me.

Scurvy

In the spring of 1863 General Robert E. Lee sent a letter to the Confederate Secretary of War stating that scurvy was so rampant in the ranks and that he directed each regiment to send a daily detail to gather sassafras buds, wild onions, garlic, lamb's quarter, and poke sprouts.

Vegetables were hard to get to the front for both sides and though not nearly as difficult for the North, scurvy still appeared among its ranks. At one time the Sanitary Commission adopted the slogan "Don't send your sweetheart a love letter. Send him an onion."—Historynet dot com

I read somewhere that root vegetables can be stored safely for six months in sand. I'm assuming dry sand doesn't freeze? Will get back to you on that.

Cabin Fever

The term cabin fever was coined in the early 1800s and originally referred to the disease of typhus. Today, cabin fever is often cited in a humorous fashion.

A/N Hello lovelies! Here's a hefty chapter for your Easter weekend viewing pleasure. I have been extremely sick and busy but I hope things are looking up now.

A heartfelt thank you to all that have commented and so sweetly inquired as to my health saga. Details are in the notes at the top of The Force if you're curious. I am on the mend but the infection in that tooth will take a while to heal. I'm headed to Orlando on the 16th and can only pray I feel more energy then than I do now. Fingers crossed.

Please remember that this tale takes place before Ashley's infamous birthday party so the conversation about the children being scared of Scarlett had not happened and I felt compelled to mention Rhett's concerns. Also, it is my opinion that Scarlett is highly reactive to Rhett, and that most of their interpersonal interactions reflect this. The fact that he enjoys angering her does not help. She may fight back but I don't think she particularly enjoys it.

Chapter 7 is started and the story will move faster now. I am trying to stick to my ten-chapter plan, but those plans often go awry. These two are just more fun to write before it all implodes. I make no promises that it won't go over, but I am trying.

23 days to retirement! Not that I'm counting …

Enjoy and let me know what you think! Peace, misscyn