Into The Storm. Helen DePrima
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“Sorry, no bathroom,” he said, “but the outhouse is clean and limed.” He pointed to a row of empty plastic jugs. “Grab a couple of those, and I’ll show you where to get water.”
He led her to a well-trodden path skirting the bluff behind the cabin. Hidden behind a bold sandstone outcropping lay an almost perfectly circular pool. Tendrils of vapor hung above it in the cooling air. A miniature waterfall leaped from a fissure in the rocks above the pool.
“The water from the rock face is safe to drink, and the pool is great for bathing—it stays an even one hundred degrees year-round.” He climbed up the rocks and began filling the jugs.
Shelby followed, and they each carried two gallons back to the cabin. The sun sat nearly on the western horizon and shadows filled the interior. Jake lit two oil lamps and showed Shelby where to find more oil before lighting the range and kindling a fire on the hearth.
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