The Stranger

    Just visible beyond the distant snow-capped peaks of a blue
mountain range, clouds began to boil and pile up, as if rushing
to be first over the mountain barrier. Yellow flashes of
internal lightening momentarily lit the gray boiling mass,
transforming it into a brilliant and beautiful orange and white
blanket. Then darkness returned to the clouds, making them
appear even more sullen and ominous. Wind gust and moist air
preceded the storm, ruffling the leaves and causing them to sigh
in excitement. It had been a long, hot, spring day, and the
storm promised relief for the dry grass and curled, brown leaves.
Old trees creaked and clicked excitedly, their dead limbs adding a musical background to the rustling leaves. Birds and
animals sought shelter from the coming storm. Birds nestled in
the forks of trees or sought the safety of thickets, while deer
and elk ran for the thick cedar stands.
    The first distant rumbles of thunder came with the wind,
sounding like a faraway stampede or avalanche, indistinct, yet
terrifying.
    A white stallion broke from a thick band of trees and
stopped, facing the wind and sniffing the air. He snorted and
shook his head, then whinnied and set off at a gallop. A large
herd of wild horses broke from shelter and followed their white
leader, running away from the oncoming storm. A dirty, tired man
rode up to the crest of a small hill and watched the horses flee.
Although he was hunting the wild herd, he did not cuss or
complain, he simply watched in a detached manner and made a note
of their direction. Then, like the wild animals he pursued, he
too sniffed the air and turned to face the mountains. His
appraising glance took in the storm and it's danger and he
quickly looked around himself for shelter.

    Mat dusted the antique oak table with a swish of his dirty
rag, then neatly tucked the rag under his belt. He looked around
the small, book-filled room in satisfaction. A slight frown
appeared as he glanced at the rough board ceiling and a large
hole at the far end of the room. Cob webs hung from the roughly-
hewn beams, and daylight appeared at the far corners of the room
as if the entire wall would soon fall. He shrugged helplessly
and turned to climb the old wooden stairs to the roof.
    Mat paced from one end of the western wall to the other. He
noticed the approaching storm with disinterest, then turned and
looked to the east. His attention was immediately riveted to a
cloud of dust rising into the dark blue sky. He ran forward,
grabbed an ancient pair of field glasses from where they hung on
a pole in the center of the domed roof, and leaned over the far
ragged edge of the wall to study the cloud of dust. When he
adjusted the focus he found a brilliant white horse, followed by
others of assorted colors. They were running free and wild. As
he watched the white horse flung it's head in the air and changed
directions. The others followed. In a moment the distant sound
of his whinny came to Mat on the wind, followed by the thunder of
their hooves. Mat dropped the glasses slowly, letting them hang
by their straps. A slow, dreamy smile lit his face, the first to
be seen in many years.
    "Horses," he mumbled to himself, "real wild horses again."
    Mat jumped to his feet, about to fling himself down the
stairs so he could add his new discovery to his diary. Another
movement caught his eye and he froze for a moment, then sank down
and brought the glasses to his eyes once more.
    "Oh no," he whispered as if afraid of being heard.
    It was another horse, but this one had a man on it's back.
He watched the man slowly maneuver the horse through a small
gully, then kick him up the little rise this side of the ravine.
Mat surveyed the man's dress. He was dressed in leather pants, a
leather vest, and a buckskin coat. There was a sword hilt
protruding from a boot in the saddle, and a bow and quiver were
hanging beside a rolled blanket at the back. Mat returned to the
face and saw the small, indistinct eyes staring directly at him.
In panic Mat gasped and sank below the broken wall. After a
moment's consideration he realized that it would be impossible
for the man to see him from such a distance. Perhaps he had seen
the flash of light off his field glasses. Shaking slightly and
gasping in apprehension, Mat ducked low and ran for the stairs.
He must prepare.

    The man HAD seen the flash of light from the lenses of the
field glasses, but he had seen the dark hulking structure of the
building long before, and decided to investigate. He needed warm
food and a night's sleep out of the weather. The air was moist
and heavy, warning of another of those frequent and horribly
violent spring storms, the kind that flattened entire forests,
then set them ablaze with a barrage of lightning.
    The horse herd would be seeking shelter soon, so they would
not escape him during the night. He had been following the horse
herd for ten days now, and was still no closer to capturing the
white stallion he coveted.
    The solitary, stony-faced rider had no name, or none he could
remember. The gray streaks in his dark-brown hair testified to
his age. He spent most of his time alone, and while alone he
needed no name. During the rare times when he visited other
humans he was simply called "The Stranger", so that was the name
he used.
    The Stranger stopped his horse and wiped his sweaty face, as
he surveyed the old building before him. It was the first whole
building he had seen which was actually created by the ancients.
All the others had been nothing more than rubble. The bottom
portion of the structure was made of stones and cement, the rest
was constructed of old boards. It appeared to have once been an
old mill or barn, patched and rebuilt many times. A storm had
ripped away the roof. He could not see the makeshift roof to see
if it was sound or not. Still, it was better than enduring the
storm in the open. His cold gray eyes found the lose wall at the
far end of the building and he frowned slightly. He was not so
sure after all that he would be safe in such a building, but what
were his alternatives? None, there was no cave or shelter
anywhere in sight, other than the old building. He should have
headed for the mountains, but he had been determined to stay with
the herd and by the time he actually saw the storm approaching,
it was too late.
    The Stranger urged his horse forward, then pulled him to a
halt when he saw a furtive movement on the roof. He sat
patiently watching, trying to determine the other man's
intentions. They faced each other in silence for several minutes
before the man on the roof slowly stood and looked down.
    "What do you want?"
    "Shelter," The Stranger said just loud enough to be heard.
It was obvious from the sound of each voice that neither man was
used to speaking.
    "Why here? There's an entire world to shelter in," the man
waved towards the woods.
    "Big storm coming. Can't you smell it?" The Stranger asked
and waited patiently while his horse stamped restlessly. He
reached out and ruffled the horse's mane affectionately, almost
absently.
    The man on the roof watched the automatic gesture and relaxed
slightly. The Stranger seemed to treat his animal well, which
spoke well of him. And what an animal! Mat had never seen a
horse in real life until today, but he had seen pictures in his
books. He knew the horse beneath the man was as rare and
beautiful as those in the herd. Suddenly he made the connection
and looked in the direction of the departing herd. The man saw
the glance and nodded with a slow smile.
    "They'll keep until after the storm. They're smart enough to
find shelter."
    "That's really why you're here? The horses?"
    "It is?" the man said simply.
    "Come in," Mat said with some reluctance. He was still
afraid, but he had not seen another human in almost ten years.
He needed to talk. He had almost forgotten how. The only
talking he did was when he read aloud, just to keep in practice.
    The Stranger rode his horse around to the leeward side of the
building and sheltered him under the ruins of an old room with
the roof still intact. He shook the poles holding the roof and
nodded to himself, then took off the saddle and placed it in a
dry corner. His horse could weather the storm quite well in the
small enclosure. After all, he had been a wild horse until just
a few years before.
    When The Stranger was finished he went around to the entrance
and found the impatient man standing nervously with an ancient
muzzle-loading rifle in his hands. The Stranger's mouth dropped
open when he saw the gun.
    "Does that thing still work?" he asked in awe.
    "Sure does. It's what I do my hunting with," Mat said
proudly.
    The Stranger's hands were itching to touch the ancient relic,
but he knew the man would be highly possessive of the treasure.
It was possibly the only gun in existence.
    "Where do you get the... stuff for it?"
    "The what?" Mat asked in confusion.
    "You know, the stuff that makes it work?" The Stranger made a
motion of something coming out of the barrel.
    "Oh, the powder. I make that myself. The sulphur comes from
those mountains, charcoal from the fire and saltpeter from...
well I make that myself too, but I'd rather not go into how it's
done," the look of disgust on his face explained it all. Mat
hefted the gun and showed it to The Stranger.
    "It's a flintlock, I pick up flints wherever I find them.
You've never seen one before?" Mat ushered him inside the dark
room with a wave of his hand.
    "Never," The Stranger said as he hesitantly stepped inside
and surveyed the dark interior. They were alone, so he relaxed
slightly.
    "Our society is based on swords, bows, and knives now. You
have the only gun I have ever seen."
    "I could..."
    The wind suddenly rushed against the building, causing it to
groan and creak ominously. The Stranger looked around himself
fearfully until the gust died down, then he looked at Mat.
    "Do you have an axe?"
    "Why?" Mat asked suspiciously.
    "Because that south wall is about to go. I'm afraid it will
never weather the storm. You have a big maple tree right next to
it. If I can drop the tree against the wall, and if it doesn't
knock down the entire building, then it might possibly survive
for a few more years. Do you?"
    "Yes, back here," Mat started to set down his gun, then
thought better of it and took it along. He opened a little crude
door and motioned for The Stranger to help himself. The Stranger
found an assortment of implements. There were several axes,
slightly rusty saws, scythes, sickles, adzes, brush hooks,
planes, and many things he could not identify. He noticed that
everything had a crude, homemade handle. Everything had probably
been found by the little man while foraging, then cleaned and
fitted by his own hands. Over all it was a very impressive
collection and a fairly good job of maintenance. He had seen
entire villages that could boast fewer tools than this.
    He selected a narrow double-bladed axe and hurried outside.
Mat soon appeared at his side with a smaller single-bladed axe,
but no gun. The Stranger silently approved of this small show of
trust. Of course the axe itself could be a very lethal weapon in
the right hands. The Stranger doubted that the little man's
where all that capable. He looked small and slightly sickly.
    They started swinging from opposite sides of the tree. The
Stranger started the larger falling cut, while Mat began on the
notch lower down which would lay the tree in the right direction.
The heavy weight of the larger axe finished the large cut before
Mat could finish his, so The Stranger patiently waited for Mat to
finish before he made the last few strokes. The tree groaned and
slowly tipped toward the old barn. It had only a few feet to
fall before the outstretched branches touched the wall and slowed
the tree as it fell against the structure. One board gave way
explosively under the weight of a limb. The tree settled and
rolled slightly, then settled in snugly against the wall. Mat
surveyed the tree proudly and turned to The Stranger.
    "Thanks, I've been worried about that wall for a long time,
but I haven't had time to make the nails to fix it."
    "Well you have time now. How do you know how to fix these
things? Most people don't."
    "Books. Didn't you see my books?"
    "I'm sorry, I don't know what they are."
    "You've never seen a book?"
    "No, sorry. You need to trim those branches the first chance
you get," The Stranger pointed at the fallen tree. "It will make
it more secure."
    "I will. Come inside, I'll fix us something to eat."

    The Stranger chewed slowly as he reverently turned the pages
of the book Mat had given him, and stared at the beautiful
pictures. He had never seen a picture before, but once his eyes
grew used to the two-dimensional image, he was mesmerized by
their intricate beauty. Mat said the book was called "American
National Parks", but he didn't know what the words meant. The
pictures were familiar. He had seen many places such as those in
the book, in fact he knew that he had personally seen several as
they actually appeared in the book. He never knew that anyone
had bothered to name all the lakes and mountains in the world.
He could not begin to name those he had personally seen.
    "And these were made by our ancestors?" The Stranger asked in
awe?
    "They were. That one next to your arm is called an
encyclopedia. It tells you where places were and what things
are. That one is only for the "a"s though. There is a complete
set for every letter."
    "An "a"?" The Stranger asked in dismay.
    "You can't read? --- no, of course you can't you've never
seen a book before. An "a" is a letter that a lot of words start
with such as axe, arrow, apple, or arm."
    "Amazing," The Stranger said.
    "That is another word that starts with "a". These books are
very old, I'm afraid they won't last long in these conditions,"
Mat waved at the old building around him. He leaned forward and
turned to the front cover.
    "This book was printed in 1968, almost two-hundred years
ago."
    "It's a treasure beyond all imagination," The Stranger said
breathlessly. "No wonder you guard it so closely. But shouldn't
you share it with others?"
    "What others? You are the first person I have seen since my
wife died ten years ago. There are no others."
    "There are many others now, they are in settlements all
through the forest. The nearest one is fifteen days ride to the
east, a settlement called Shady Glen."
    "That far?" Mat looked longingly to the east.
    "You have no horse, I had forgotten. I could capture one for
you if you'd like. We could trade."
    "Trade for what?" Mat asked suspiciously as he glanced at his
rifle hanging on pegs over the fireplace.
    The Stranger followed his glance and was about to speak, when
another gust of wind shook the building. A billow of smoke
rolled out of the fireplace. Boards and joints creaked around
them. Even the floor under their feet shook. They waited
breathlessly, staring around in anxiety until the wind died down.
    "No, not the gun. You have implements, more than you'll ever
need. You also have something more valuable, you have knowledge.
Mankind is trying to rebuild again and you have the knowledge
that can make this less painful. I'm a loner and traveler, I
hunt, gather wild horses for the settlements, and I search for
others. You are different. You should be a teacher, a leader.
You hold the knowledge that mankind needs. I will pass from this
world unnoticed, but you and your precious books should not."
    "I could never leave my books."
    "Of course not, they'll be needed. From what you've told me
this afternoon they hold all the answers mankind has been looking
for, for a long time. We have forgotten how to do even the
simplest things. A woman only rediscovered how to make soap 30
years ago. The first crude well-drilling device was invented
less than three. Take the most important books along. Safeguard
the rest in a dry cave, or here in your dwelling. Other's could
come back later and help you move them."
    "Somebody might take them, or worse yet, destroy them while
I'm gone."
    "Who has tried in the last ten years?" The Stranger asked
with a slight smile.
    Mat smiled in return and nodded.
    "I'll do it. When can we leave?"
    "Not until the storm dies down and I can catch a few horses
from the herd. They are not easy to run down, you know?"
    "Make a trap. Catch them all at once," Mat said, raising his
hands in a gesture of simplicity.
    "A trap? Yes, I never thought of that. How?"
    "I have an old western novel that explains it," Mat jumped up
and hurried over to the shelves. A quick search found the book
he was looking for.
    "It's a fictional book, but remarkably accurate. All this
man's works are historically accurate and the details of daily
life in the old West are amazing."
    As the wind picked up and began to howl, he slowly read the
chapter where the fictional character constructed a trap to
capture a wild horse herd. The thunder, lightning, and rain
began as Mat continued to read the novel from the beginning, at
the urging of The Stranger who had never heard a story before.
His voice droned on through the stormy night. In the flickering
light of the fireplace and the fat-burning lantern, Mat read as
the trees crashed down around them, exploded under the impact of
lightning, and the walls shook and groaned completely unnoticed.
Mat finished the book in the early light of dawn, long after the
storm and the night had passed unnoticed.
    The Stranger wordlessly watched as Mat reverently closed the
book and laid it on the table in front of them.
    "I have never heard anything like that," The Stranger finally
said reverently. "Are there more like that?"
    "Hundreds, thousands," Mat waved at the books around them.
The Stranger stared in disbelief, then looked at Mat.
    "You must share this with everyone. I have never heard
anything like that. It was like I was living in a different
world. I could see the story in my head."
    "That's what books are supposed to do, tell a story you can
see in your head. You really liked it then?"
    "More than anything," The Stranger said breathlessly. "And
the others will too. You will be the most popular man on Earth.
People will ride for hundreds of miles to hear you tell your
stories."
    "They aren't my stories," Mat said in embarrassment, "they
were written by other people."
    "I must check on my horse, then get some sleep. Are you
coming with me tomorrow?"
    "I will," Mat nodded thoughtfully. "We can take the book
along and build the trap together."

    It took a week to break the twenty-three horses from the wild
herd. The Strangers started with the white stallion first, and
when he was through he gave his old, comparatively gentle horse
to Mat. By the end of the week they started out with The
Stranger in the lead, followed by twenty-two horse burdened with
huge packs of books and a few of Mat's belongings. Part of the
time Mat rode in the rear on his new horse which he immediately
named "Buck", short for buckskin, to make sure the books were
safe. At other times they rode together and Mat tried to read
aloud as he dodged low-hanging branches. There were no roads and
few paths suited for riding in what had once been called Oregon.
After a few days The Stranger would simply say "duck" and Mat
would duck automatically while continuing to read.
    With the pack train the trip to Shady Glen took 19 days of
easy, amiable riding. By the end of the trip Mat and The
Stranger were inseparable friends. Mat admired The Stranger for
his infinite knowledge of the wild, and The Stranger admired
Mat's knowledge, and ability to read stories. Mat used his books
of wild lore to point out edible plants that even The Stranger
had not known about, and alternatives for their use, such as rose
hip tea, dandelion green biscuits, and cattail pancakes. The
Stranger grew used to the words "here, try that" and having a
spoon shoved under his nose. Mostly, Mat's concoctions tasted
good. Some were absolutely horrendous. They worked out a simple
code, when it came to tasting food. If The Stranger spit the
food out explosively, Mat didn't fix it again. If he didn't turn
green and glare, then Mat added the new dish to his list of
specialties. They experimented, shared knowledge, and had fun.
The Stranger noticed a pattern forming. If a dish worked out
well, Mat bowed and took credit for it. If it was horrible,
Mat's defense was always, "don't blame me, it was in the book".
After a while, whenever Mat blundered, The Stranger would ask,
"was that in the book too?"
    Mat finished seven books by the end of the trip, mostly read
from the back of a horse and finished by the light of a campfire.
Mat even started teaching The Stranger to read, and the lessons
were going well. The Stranger's craving for entertainment were
as strong as his craving for knowledge. Both could be found in
Mat's books.

    Shady Glen had never seen a sight like the pack train that
rode down out of the hills and slowly negotiated the trail to the
bottom of the valley. The train was led by The Stranger, who
they were familiar with, riding the white stallion who had passed
through their valley many times, and had a reputation of being
untouchable. Somehow The Stranger had captured it, and every
other horse in the wild herd. This meant the village would
prosper.
    The train, the white stallion, a rare visit from The
Stranger, and the sight of another man never seen before, all
where the cause of great excitement and celebration. Mat
immediately began waving people away from his precious books, but
they paid no attention, pawing at the packs in search of
treasure, until a thunderous sound made them cringe and fall to
the ground. The horses began stamping and pulling at the ropes.
The people finally looked up in silence and found Mat sitting on
his restless horse with a long metal pipe smoking in front of
him. The Stranger simply looked on with a smile.
    "Folks, I HAVE brought you a treasure," The Stranger finally
said, still smiling. "This is Mat. He is a storyteller and a
scholar. These packs contain his belongings, they are possibly
the most precious things on Earth. Don't touch them. That thing
he is holding is a gun, you have heard about them in our old
stories. It can kill a hundred men from miles away, so I would
listen to him."
    Mat started to object at The Stranger's statement, then
remained silent when he saw the slight frown and shake of The
Stranger's head.
    "Mat needs a dwelling, a large dwelling where he can store
all his books. There are thousands of them. It must be tight
from the weather and large enough for visitors. I believe you
have a vacant dwelling at the far end of town."
    "That belonged to the Tanner and his family, they left town.
But the Mayor moved into it," an old woman said enviously.
    "Then the mayor will have to move out again," The Stranger
said and scanned the crowd until he saw the scowling face of the
mayor.
    "Henry, you need this man. If you don't accommodate his
needs, he will move on."
    "So?" the Mayor said resentfully. He had no intention of
moving out of his new, snug house.
    "This man has knowledge of how the ancients did things. He
has their stories, and he can read them. He can tell you how to
make guns like his, or knives and axes that stay sharp. He can
tell you how to build pipes that will put water right into your
house or dig deep wells that will water your stock during
drought. He can feed you better than you have ever been fed
before, provide clothing that has not been seen for hundreds of
years, and tell you how to cure sickness. He can teach you how
to grow three times the amount of crops your fields now produce.
He can show you how to build houses that never get cold, are not
filled with smoke, and don't leak. You can live like the
ancients did, in good health and luxury. All you need to do is
provide him that dwelling."
    "I can't...." the mayor started to say, but he was cut off by
a huge bear of a man.
    "He's moving," the man said with finality. Many others
nodded and grumbled until the mayor retreated towards the house
in question.
    "It might possibly be time for a new mayor," The Stranger
said thoughtfully, then sent an appraising glance toward Mat.
Mat's mouth worked wordlessly as he turned red and glanced at the
crowd apprehensively.
    "May I?" a pretty teenage girl asked with her hand near a
pack of books.
    Mat swallowed nervously and nodded.
    "One with pictures," The Stranger whispered and motioned for
Mat to help the girl. Mat realized that this was an important
first step for him. He slid off his horse and looked for a place
to put his rifle. The Stranger reached down and took it with a
greedy smile as Mat hurried over to the girl and helped her
search for just the right book. The biggest hit of the day was a
home repair book which showed how to build and fix a house. The
pictures caused much excitement and Mat's importance was
immediately recognized. Mat started to object as the carpenters
of the village walked off, holding the book and discussing it's
methods. The Stranger made a noise and shook his head. Mat
closed his mouth, but kept a nervous eye out for the book as he
showed others to the excited villagers.
    The Stranger waited patiently for 30 minutes, before he
became as nervous as his horse. He stalked over to Mat and
tapped him on the shoulder.
    "Too crowded around here, I need room to breath. If you need
anything talk to that big man, he's the smith. He'll take care
of you... mayor," The Stranger handed him the flintlock.
    "Wait," Mat held up a hand, then hurried over to his own
horse. He took down a familiar leather bag with powder and
flint, transferring it to The Stranger's horse.
    "If you need more powder, come back any time," Mat extended
his hand and shook with a strong, meaningful grip. The Stranger
looked at the flintlock in awe, then hefted it as if he'd never
seen it before.
    "Quite a gift," he said gruffly as he turned quickly away.
    "It's nothing compared to what you've given me," Mat motioned
at the village and the crowd of people. The Stranger nodded and
kicked his horse into motion. He rode out of sight without
looking back.

    Fog crawled across the grass of a green valley floor. The
sound of a raging river echoed off the nearby mountains, seeming
to come from all directions at once.
    A gentle mist began falling as The Stranger pulled his
flintlock from it's boot and laid the reins over his stallion's
neck. He took aim on a huge, majestic elk, but the stag's head
came up and he crashed off into the brush. The Stranger
reluctantly wiped the mist off the barrel of his rifle and shoved
it back down into the boot, then carefully tucked the flap over
the end of the butt.
    He wiped the mist from his face and looked around. He
suddenly stopped and studied the landmarks more closely. For the
first time he realized that he was near Shady Glen. It appeared
that his apparent aimless travel in the wilds had a purpose after
all, even though he had not consciously realized it. With a
quick smile he took up the reins and swung the horse south,
knowing he could get warm food and a dry place to sleep.
    He started to see changes long before he reached the little
settlement. More land was cleared, miles from town. Snug,
modern log cabins dotted the forest, but they seemed to be
deserted. Very few had smoke coming from their chimneys and it
was early autumn, the air was crisp and cool, a time for at least
a smoldering fire during the day. As he passed through a narrow
band of trees he suddenly came upon a yellow sandy road where
none had been before. As he studied the road in surprise, he
heard a loud rattle and jingle as something appeared around a
bend to the north. It drew closer until The Stranger saw that it
was a wagon pulled by a team of horses. The wagon was filled
with people, at least four different families were riding in the
back, happily chatting and laughing as they neared. They cheered
and waved as they recognized The Stranger.
    When the wagon stopped The Stranger recognized the huge bear
of a man who had told the mayor to move.
    "Big changes around here," The Stranger said as he marveled
at the wagon.
    "Lot's of changes since you were here two years ago. The new
mayor has changed a lot of things," he motioned proudly at his
team and wagon. "My new specialty."
    "Wait until I tell the other settlements that I've seen a
road, and a real horse-drawn wagon," The Stranger said with a
shake of his head.
    "Tell nothing, most of the other settlements will be here
tonight. The mayor is reading for us again. People have come
from a hundred miles around," he said proudly.
    The Stranger smiled to himself as he heard his own
predictions being voiced by this man.
    "It's a western," a young girl said breathlessly.
    "The first story I ever heard was a western," The Stranger
said, beginning to catch the excitement. "Well, what are we
waiting for, let's go."
    "Tie your horse to the tailgate and climb in," the huge man
said. "We're having a hayride. They'll make room."
    The Stranger nodded. He couldn't resist his first wagon
ride, especially since three beautiful young women moved over to
make room between them. With a hearty laugh he rode behind the
wagon and tied off his horse, then vaulted inside with an easy
bound. The wagon started off and two of the girls "accidentally"
grabbed him for support, leaning very close and feeling his
muscular arms as he turned red in embarrassment. The Stranger
didn't mind enough to move. Some things just had to be endured.
    As the last words of Mat's story died out, the huge crowd
waited breathlessly, then began to yell and applaud. Mat,
looking slightly older and more filled out, stood solemnly and
bowed deeply, then put his precious book into the hands of his
young librarian and student.
    "Friends," Mat yelled and held up his hand for silence. "I
will read another story in exactly two weeks. You are all
welcome. And, for my students, don't forget that classes begin
as soon as chores are done in the morning, so don't be late. I'm
having our blacksmith make a bell so everyone will know when
school starts," Mat pointed at the huge bear of a man who stood
and bowed with a sheepish grin. Mat suddenly saw The Stranger
standing beside the blacksmith and his face lit in excitement.
    "Thank you for coming," Mat yelled and hurried through the
crowd.
    "Stranger, it's been a long time," Mat pumped his hand
vigorously. "Come on, Sissy left a few minutes ago, supper
should be ready."
    "So you did remarry," The Stranger followed him through the
joyous crowd.
    "Yes, she's rather young, I'm afraid, but an absolute
treasure. I'm truly happy with her, although I'll always think
of and miss Lily. She would have been happy here."
    "Anyone would be happy here. You have made a paradise in the
wilderness."
    "That's it!" Mat yelled and turned on The Stranger. "We have
been searching for a new name for our settlement for weeks now
and you've just named it. Paradise in the Wilderness is exactly
what we needed."
    "That's a rather long name, isn't it?"
    "There were others, Los Angeles, for instance translates to
"The City of Angels".
    "Well I'm glad I could help," The Stranger said, looking
anxiously at the door before them. He could smell the food
cooking already and it was unlike anything he had ever smelled
before. "Do I smell fish?"
    Mat smiled and nodded. "Lemon stuffed trout, cooked cabbage,
and baked potatoes with butter. You were right, we are eating
like we have never eaten before. I used my books to send a pack
train south where the ancient settlements used to be. We now
have lemons, peaches, nuts, oranges, and apples --- stuff never
seen here before."
    "What are you trying to do, kill me?" The Stranger asked
seriously, then smiled at Mat's confusion. "Talking about food
while a starving stranger stands here on the doorstep is cruel."
    With a hearty laugh, Mat led him inside.
    As darkness fell the lights of the village began coming on.
Not the harsh electric lights of the past, but the warm, friendly
yellow glow of candles, lamps, and lanterns. They bathed the
dusty streets with a welcoming light. Loud conversation and
laughter echoed across the deserted town square. A ragged black
dog paused and looked up warily, then continued his search for
crumbs and tidbits dropped during the recital.
    The first important steps toward civilization had been made
in Paradise In The Wilderness. Not progress toward nuclear
power, supersonic aircraft, and orbiting space stations, but
something much more important. This progress consisted of a
community that cared for one another, shared a common goal, and
fought common hardships. Paradise In The Wilderness would grow
stronger, creating a shining example for others who struggled to
build a new world. And the world owed it's birth to The
Stranger, and a little man jealously guarding his books in an
abandoned barn.