Dan Smith - Red Winter

‘We’ll talk about that later.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘Put it on the table.’ He tipped his head towards the side of the barn where a sturdy wooden table was laid with an assortment of tools. There were others hanging on the wall, resting on well-placed nails, and there were ropes and pieces of leather and a heavy black anvil to one side of the table, beside a wooden crate filled with loose horseshoes.

‘You’re a blacksmith?’ I asked, laying the notes beside a set of iron tongs. But his hands were not blacksmith’s hands.

‘Something like that. And you? A soldier?’

‘Something like that,’ I echoed his own words, and backed away from the table.

When he had finished checking Kashtan, he came over to take the notes, stuffing them into his pocket before examining the tools, standing sideways so he could watch me. He kept the shotgun in one hand as he hunted for the right implements, looking up at those on the wall, then returning his attention to the ones in front of him, moving some of them about and half bending to look under the table.

‘Lost something?’ I asked.

‘Hmm?’

‘Have you lost something?’

He shook his head in dismissal, distracted by his search. I thought it strange that he couldn’t find what he was looking for. When Papa used to take Alek and me to the blacksmith in Dolinsk, I spent my time studying the neat rows of clean tools. Every implement was returned to the place from which it had been taken as soon as it had been used. And in the army, the company blacksmith was almost obsessive about his tools. In the same way that soldiers kept their weapons clean, so blacksmiths took care of their implements. They were their livelihood. As I watched Lev searching, I thought about the turnip field outside, the vegetables swollen and past harvesting, and something occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of before.

‘This isn’t your barn, is it?’ I asked.

Lev stopped.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘It’s not my business. All I want is to fix my horse.’

He started to straighten now, bringing the shotgun up as he did, the barrel rising in my direction. ‘Who are you?’

The intonation of his voice made the dog sit upright.

‘You really don’t need that,’ I said, taking a step towards him and putting my hands out to the side. ‘I’d feel much better if you put it down.’

His eyes followed the movement of my hands and I seized the opportunity to act while he was distracted. I took just one more step, turning to the side so that if he fired, it would miss me, and I grabbed the barrel of his weapon in both hands, pulling hard with a sudden jerk. The force of it, combined with his awkward positioning, unbalanced him and dragged him forwards. I snatched the weapon from his grasp and let him fall to the floor, where he scrambled in the straw to turn onto his back and look up at me. With the suddenness of the movement, the dog sprang to his feet. I turned the shotgun on him, but he did not rush to Lev’s aid. He stood and growled, lowering his head and raising his shoulders, but made no attempt to attack me or protect Lev. The dog’s reaction seemed more to warn me away from himself, and the impression I had was that the creature did not belong to Lev.

‘Don’t kill me.’ Lev raised his hands and shrank back.

‘I don’t want to kill you,’ I told him, sharing my attention between him and the dog. ‘I want you to help me.’

Lev opened his mouth but said nothing.

‘So you don’t need this.’ I broke the shotgun open, picked out the cartridges and put them in my pocket before laying the weapon on the table and stepping away. ‘I told you,’ I said, holding out a hand to help him up, ‘I just want to fix my horse and have something to eat. Sleep somewhere warm for a change.’

Lev propped himself up on his elbows and looked at my outstretched hand. ‘Fine.’ He reached out to take it. ‘Fine.’

‘Leave him alone.’ A childish voice spoke to my right and I turned to see that the door was open and Lev’s son was standing just inside with his back to the last of the light. He was holding an axe over his shoulder as if about to take a swing. ‘Get away from him.’

‘I’m just helping him up,’ I said, taking Lev’s weight and pulling.

The child cocked the axe back a little further and stepped into the barn and I saw that he was not Lev’s son at all. Dressed in trousers and a quilted jacket, and with a boyish frame, it was no wonder I had mistaken this child for a boy, but when she came closer, I saw her for what she was: a frightened but determined girl. Her dark hair fell in a messy plait from beneath the back of her cap. Her skin was pale and smooth, her cheeks reddened by the cold. Her features were fine, but she had tightened her face into a hard look of aggression.

‘Put it down, Anna.’

The girl hesitated with the axe held high, looking first at her father then at me.

‘It’s all right,’ Lev said, crossing to her and taking hold of the axe, setting it against the wall. ‘Kolya is our friend.’ He glanced at me. ‘Isn’t that right?’

‘Yes.’ I went to the door and looked out, scanning the horizon, then closing it to keep the warmth inside. ‘That’s right.’

Lev was nervous, his hands shaking as he gathered the tools he needed, and there was sweat on his brow despite the cold. As soon as he started working on Kashtan, though, he began to relax. He lifted her leg between his knees and cleared the hoof before rasping it and clipping away any loose pieces that might catch and tear.

Anna stayed close to him, her dark eyes watching me with suspicion. She was probably no more than twelve years old, but she had a hard expression, like someone who had seen too much of life, and she stood still, passing a hoof knife from one hand to the other, moving only when Lev asked her to fetch or hold something for him.

The dog lay with his chin between his paws, his eyebrows twitching as he watched us. He behaved as if he had no particular bond to any of us and was only interested in protecting himself but, for some reason, preferred to be in our company. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be alone.

‘You look like you know what you’re doing,’ I said to Lev.

‘I’ve done it before,’ he replied without looking up.

‘But you’re not a blacksmith.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not here.’ He passed the nippers to Anna and ran his hardened fingers round the edge of Kashtan’s hoof. ‘The damage isn’t too bad. Maybe a little bruising, but with a bit of tidying up and a new shoe, she’ll be fine.’

He put down Kashtan’s foot and went to the box of shoes beside the table, glancing at the shotgun as he passed it. Anna followed close behind him, taking her eyes off me only to check she wasn’t going to bump into something.

‘If not here, then where?’ I asked, going to the door and opening it just enough to look out. The dog followed my movements as I watched the horizon, but for now everything looked clear.

‘Different places. Nowhere.’ He took a number of shoes and went back to Kashtan, testing for a good fit.

‘No one is from anywhere now,’ I said. ‘No one is anybody.’ I closed the door and watched him return to the anvil to hammer the chosen shoe for a better fit. ‘No one wants to be anyone in case it gets them into trouble.’ The chime of the hammer reminded me of being with the other men of my unit, drinking and talking while the blacksmith prepared the horses for moving on.

‘Is that what you are?’ he asked, placing the shoe on Kashtan’s hoof and checking the fit, feeling for unevenness. ‘No one?’

‘Exactly.’

Satisfied it was right, he gestured for Anna to put out her hand. She stuffed the hoof knife into her pocket, and Lev placed a number of nails on her outstretched palm, then began to fit the shoe, hammering the first nail into place.