Louis looked at the haunch of meat on the chopping block before him quizzically. He then looked at the cleaver in his right hand and wondered what he was doing wrong. Winston had made it look so easy, cutting through flesh and bone in single precise strokes. His own chop hadn’t even reached the bone.

“Are you still not done cutting that up?” Steph asked as she walked into the kitchen carrying a bucket and the floor brush. She stood next to Louis and examined his cut. “You’re not putting enough force into it. The knife can sense your fear. It won’t behave if you aren’t firm with it.”

Louis took a deep breath and raised the cleaver. “No fear,” he breathed.

He brought the cleaver down with all of his strength. It cut through the flesh, but when it hit the bone, it slid along the hard surface, sending the entire haunch of meat flying to the floor.

“See? You were scared,” Steph sighed. “Why don’t you use a saw?”

“That’s a good idea,” Louis remarked as he picked the haunch of meat up off the floor, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that himself.

Two hours later, the meat was cut up and in a pot over the fire. Louis opened the top and stirred it tentatively. The smell was about right. Now, for the all-important taste test. He used a ladle to spoon out some broth. The soup was bland and almost flavourless. What did he miss?

“How is it?” Steph asked as she peered into the pot curiously.

“Why don’t you have a taste?” Louis asked. “It’s missing something, but I can’t put my finger on what.”

Steph tentatively licked the spoon and made a face. “Well, the nicest thing I can say about it is that it’s edible.”

“Why don’t you try doing it next time then?” he asked hotly.

“I suppose I could try,” Steph allowed. She looked at the surprised look on Louis’ face and smiled wanly. “I just don’t have it in me to get into a row, you know?”

They looked at one another and sighed. They had both agreed not to talk about their absent boss until the night’s service was over. However, he was weighing heavily on both their minds.

“I don’t know what to say if we’re asked about him,” Louis said. “And there are sure to be questions.”

“Yes, we’re likely to have a full house tonight,” Steph remarked. “I see you’ve baked bread.”

Louis sighed. “Better safe than sorry. The first of them should be here soon.”

Steph looked down at the pot. “Should we try to sell this?”

“I suppose. It would be a shame to throw it out,” Louis allowed. “But I suppose we should be up front that it’s not very good.”

Steph nodded and walked out to the main room. “Come on, I need your help to get things ready.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

At five o’ clock on the dot, Ogden led a large group of miners into the inn. The mood was sombre as the men took their seats while the mayor walked up to the bar and gave Louis a compassionate smile.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard any indication of when Winston might be back?” he asked.

Louis shook his head and looked out the window worriedly as Steph moved around the room, taking orders.

“Well, if the two of you need anything, please let us know,” Ogden said kindly. “We’ll do our best to help until Winston comes back.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, feeling relieved.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Mister Fuller?” Steph asked as she passed the list of orders to Louis.

“Just a beer, please,” Ogden said. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m just trying to keep it out of my mind,” Steph admitted. “Lous has cooked a stew. Would you like a bowl?”

The mayor gave Louis a sideways glance. “It’s… edible,” Steph offered with a nervous smile.

Ogden shrugged. “Sure, I’ll have a bowl. It can’t be worse than my cooking.”

The inn was packed but quiet that night. Word had spread quickly, and nobody dared ask the pair about Winston’s whereabouts. Louis appreciated the fact that they were largely there to show their support. At around nine o’clock, their guests began to leave, thanking them for opening the inn before shuffling out the door.

“That went better than expected,” Louis sighed when the last of the guests left. He looked at the main room and felt it looked emptier than usual.

“Let’s tidy up,” Steph’s said. “I want to get an early night.”

Louis looked at her, concerned by the tremble in her voice and saw her wipe away a tear as she began clearing the tables.

“He’ll be back, you know,” Louis offered.

Steph looked at him as though stunned before smiling wanly. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to cheer me up, but I’m fine. If push comes to shove, I’ve lived on the streets all my life. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

For a fleeting moment, Louis considered moving Winston’s silver but decided against it. Steph was all he had now, and he would be lost without her. Besides, she seemed just as upset by their employer’s departure as he was.

“I’m not worried,” he said, putting on a brave face. “And Mister Weaver will be back. I know it.”

Steph smirked and for a moment looked like her old self. She looked towards the kitchen pointedly. “Well, you’d better tidy that up before he gets back, or he just might walk straight back out again.”

Louis groaned, recalling the mess of the kitchen. As he finished up polishing the glasses from behind the bar, he wondered how Winston did it, preparing mouth-watering meals that quickly and somehow having the kitchen cleaner when he finished than when he began.

“Do you mind helping me up back there when you’re done out here?” Louis ventured. “I still have a lot to at the bar.”

Steph paused and stuck her tongue out. “You made that mess all on your own, so you can take care of it, thank you very much.”

“Besides, I’ve told you that I want to get an early night,” she continued as she disappeared into the kitchen with a pile of half full bowls of stew. “I’ve had a long day.”

Louis sighed and shook his head. Cleaning the bar up was another thing Winston had made look easy, and Louis gained a new appreciation of just how much work the landlord did around the inn. It took almost an hour for Louis to tidy up, and even then, he knew it was nowhere near Winston’s high standards, but it was good enough for the boy, who had to be satisfied, or he wouldn’t be done with the kitchen until the next day’s lunch service.

When he trudged into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Steph knee elbow deep in the large stew pot. She looked over her shoulder and sniffed. “It took you long enough to get here.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were getting an early night.”

“I saw the warzone in here and just couldn’t leave you to it alone,” Steph said as she returned her attention to the pot. “You made a real mess of this.”

“Thanks,” Louis sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“I do,” Steph said. “You’d probably have crawled into your bed and wept until Mister Weaver returned.”

Louis felt the blood rush to his face but was mollified when he saw just how much Steph had done in the kitchen. “You’re not wrong.”

Steph raised her head again and turned around to look at Louis with her mouth agape and Louis gave her his best smile. “Well, if it’s just going to be the two of us, the least we can do is try to get along.”

“Please never smile like that at me… or anyone ever again,” Steph snorted as she returned her attention to the pot. She paused before adding. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”