She was holding the tongs so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.
Then he turned back toward Bram.
"Seems the woman cooking has more work than hands."
Bram laughed.
"She's got plenty of woman to do it."
Several miners chuckled.
The stranger didn't.
He walked toward the butcher's table.
Then he lowered the enormous elk quarter onto the thick wooden surface.
The impact shook the table.
Every conversation in the room stopped.
The stranger straightened.
He removed his wolf-hide cloak.
Then he slowly rolled up his sleeves.
Bram stared at him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The stranger looked toward the scattered bread.
"Helping."
Bram stepped into his path.
"Nobody told you to touch anything."
The stranger stopped.
For a moment, they stood face-to-face.
Then Bram shoved him hard in the chest.
The stranger barely moved.
Bram's expression changed.
He shoved again.
This time, the stranger caught the foreman's forearm and firmly pushed him backward, creating enough distance to stop the confrontation.
Bram stumbled against a bench.
The room went silent.
The stranger released him immediately.
"No more pushing," he said.
Bram stared.
His face was red.
His jaw trembled with anger.
But something in the stranger's expression made him hesitate.
The man wasn't smiling.
He wasn't showing off.
He looked exhausted, hungry, and entirely unimpressed by the foreman's performance.
Then he turned toward Loretta.
"Ma'am?"
She stared at him.
He gestured toward the scattered bread.
"May I pick that up?"
Loretta blinked.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, "Yes."
He nodded.
He retrieved the fallen tray, gathered the bread that had landed on the floor into a separate container to be discarded, and moved the damaged stool away from the stove.
Then he washed his hands in the basin beside the kitchen door.
Bram watched in disbelief.
The stranger looked toward Loretta.
"Where do you want me?"
The question struck her strangely.
Nobody had asked her that in months.
Most men simply told her what they wanted and expected her to make it happen.
She looked toward the enormous piece of elk.
Then toward the long line of hungry miners.
Finally, she said, "If you can cut that meat into portions, I'll cook it."
The stranger nodded.
"Gladly."
He picked up a clean butcher's knife.
And began working.
The fifty miners watched in silence.
For the next several minutes, the enormous stranger moved through the kitchen with the efficiency of someone accustomed to preparing food in difficult conditions. He cut portions of elk, stacked clean plates, carried firewood closer to the stove, and helped deliver meals when Loretta indicated which tables were waiting.