The Night Returner

The young woman stood quietly in front of the window, listening to the movement outside the house as if she was expecting something. She was the only one in the house. It was snowing heavily outside the window, the first snowfall of this winter, and the snow-covered the silent prairie outside the window. The woman looked out through the window obsessively, but she could not see anything, only her own lonely shadow cast on the shiny window glass.

At that moment, she felt more lonely and scared than ever. Her husband had often gone away for days at a time, leaving her alone in the house. But this time the situation was very different, now that she knew for sure that she was pregnant. She hated herself for not telling her husband about the happy news earlier.

He was already bored with work and would not have gone away if he had known she was pregnant. Yet she did not want him to be anxious about herself. She recalled an episode a few hours earlier: he had told her about the packet of money while standing at this very windowsill, his hands gently on her shoulders. Her husband was a border district tax collector. He took a large bag of tax money home, put it in a cookie box, and hid it under the kitchen floor.

Why?

Alas, it was bad luck! The young couple's little savings were in a rural bank far away, and now that the bank was about to close, he had to hurry to retrieve their money. He did not dare to carry the public money so far, so he hid it at home.

"You have to promise me that you will never leave the house when I'm not home," he said, "and not let anyone in the house, no matter what anyone says."

"Okay, I promise." She said.

By now, he had been gone for hours, and the sky had darkened and night had fallen. Heavy snow and darkness enveloped the lonely cabin. She heard a sound. It wasn't the wind. The wind blowing on the door and windows sounded like someone trying to sneak in, but she could tell. What she heard was a knock on the door, a low but urgent sound. The woman pressed her face against the window and looked out, only to see a man leaning against the front door.

She hurried away and removed her husband's pistol from the fireplace. Unfortunately, it was a non-functional pistol, the good one and the gunpowder cartridge were taken away by her husband. She had to take the empty gun and walk quickly to the tightly locked door.

"Who's out there?" She barked.

"I am a wounded soldier, lost and unable to walk, please do me a favor and let me in."

"My husbend has commanded me that no one is to come in unless he is at home." The young woman told him matter-of-factly.

"Then I shall have to die at your door."

After a while, he pleaded again, "Open the door and see me, and know that I will not harm you."

"My husband will not spare me ......," she cried, as she opened the door and let him in. This wounded soldier was indeed exhausted and seemed about to collapse. He was tall, staggering, pale, with his arm bandaged and covered in snow. The woman sent him to the fire, sat in her husband's chair, washed his wounds, changed his bandages, and gave him the evening meal she had prepared for herself. By the time he finished eating, she had made a bed for him in the back room with a carpet. He fell into bed and seemed to fall asleep immediately.

Was he asleep or was he not? Was he lying to her, waiting for her to go to sleep? The woman walked around her bedroom, apprehensive, feeling like something was about to go wrong. Late in the night, all was silent, except for the crackling of the fire. Suddenly there was a very low sound, very soft someone is doing something, sneaky, then the sound of mice stealing nibbles. Where the hell did that sound come from? Could it be the man in the next room? Thinking of this, she picked up the lamp and walked gently down the narrow passage, standing and listening quietly. The wounded soldier's breathing would not be that loud, must be deliberately faked. She pushed the door open, went into the back room, and leaned down to see the wounded soldier, only to see that he was sleeping sweetly. She came out of the room and immediately heard the sound again. This time she understood: someone was picking the lock of the front door. The woman immediately took one of her husband's folding knives from the toolbox, then gently touched the wounded soldier's bedside and pushed him awake. He grunted and opened his eyes.

"Listen!" She whispered, "Someone's trying to pick the lock to get in the house.

"Who's trying to pick the lock to get in?" He said sleepily, "It's not like there's anything to steal."

"Yes, there's a lot of money, hidden under the kitchen floor." How could she tell him about this? She hated to bite her tongue off.

"Then, you take my pistol, my right hand is injured, can not hold the gun, you give me the knife." He said.

The woman hesitated for a moment. At that moment, the sound of the front door being pried was heard again. She immediately handed the knife to the wounded soldier and took his pistol herself.

"You deal with the first one who comes in." He said, "You stand close to the door and shoot as soon as it opens, with six rounds in your gun, and make sure you hit him until he falls and can't move. I'll take the knife, behind you, and deal with the second person who comes in. We'll put out the lights as soon as we get into position."

All at once, the room went dark. The sound of lock picking stopped and came the sound of something being wrenched and twisted. The lock was knocked off, the door opened, and a man slipped in. In a flash, the snow lined the man's figure, and she got a good look and immediately shot him. The man fell, but immediately staggered back to his feet, the woman fired another shot, and the man slowly fell, his face touched the foot of the wall, and could not move again.

The wounded soldier bent over, cursed, and then called out, "So there was only one man! What a shot, ma'am!" Then he turned the body over, only to see that the bandit still had a mask over his face. The wounded soldier removed the mask, and the woman came closer to see it.

"Do you know this man?" The wounded soldier asked.

"Never seen it before!" She said. At this point, the woman had more courage than ever to stare at the dead man's face, at the man who had come back to rob her - her husband!