other’s throats again. Itsá says it’s because of some mating urges they’re going through, but I don’t care.”
“You seem rather disgruntled.”
The dark-haired woman sat in a chair in the corner and snatched a pastry off the shelf. “Well, I went to talk to that lawyer finally for the reading of my grandmother’s will, and Jesse Porter just so happens to be the other beneficiary. He won’t budge on his half of the money, and he won’t tell me why either. But I think Charlotte has been right all along—not that I would ever tell her that. But I can’t deny that fate might be at play here, after all.”
Mary Ann set the dough aside and wiped her hands off on the small rag hanging from her apron. “My brother and I rode to Texas to help three women find their way into Colorado when the land was torn and men were at war. We took you safely through Indian territory and...when that storm came and sent our wagon careenin’ down that embankment, I hated all of you for a long time, and it felt so good.”
Beth nodded solemnly but remained quiet.
“I blamed you for my brother’s death,” Mary Ann admitted. “I saw no fate at work that day, only the dense fog of my own grief. It wasn’t until those...things came around that I saw what was goin’ on. Wendigo, witches, dark spirits. It’s all too much for me, Beth. But I’ve been watchin’ the pieces line up. I’ve come to realize that fate has to have somethin’ more in store for us than pain and sufferin’.”
Beth set the pastry aside and flicked away the crumbs on her clothing. “I’m on my way down to meet with Wesley at the saloon. I want to go with him when he goes after Charlotte this time. I’ve found a couple of leads he might have missed.”
“Did you ask the new sheriff?” Mary Ann snickered.
“Boone will no doubt have a say in it, but folks around here are disappearing, and it doesn’t bode well for us if they all get turned by the damned Wendigo Spirit.”
Mary Ann sent Beth off with some nibbles for her and Wesley. When the bell signaled Beth’s exit, she began to work tirelessly through the day. Mary Ann filled orders, paid bills, baked, baked, baked, shelved, baked, and then did preparation for tomorrow when she would have to do it all over again. It was fulfilling work, and it put food on her table, so she felt no need to complain even when her back and feet ached.
“Good evenin’, Mary,” a deep voice rumbled, startling her half to death.
Mary Ann’s hand clutched her chest as she struggled to calm her breathing. “Samuel! I didn’t hear the bell ring.” She hurried to pull the final batch away from the oven and packaged it up real nice before putting it on the shelf with the others.
“I didn’t come in through the door,” he drawled. Mary Ann watched him closely as he swaggered over to her and leaned against the counter with barely an inch of space between them. Sam Cassady leaned forward and kissed the curve of her ear, causing her to gasp. After Leroy had died in the accident, she had been spending more time with Sam as a way of distracting herself from the pain that often lingered. But things had slowly gotten more intimate as she began to rely on him for affection and comfort.
It never went beyond a few chaste pecks here and there or a snuggle or two, but Mary Ann felt safe in his arms, and that was all that mattered. The new development in their friendship started after she had defended him vigorously against his brother’s judgment. And, despite the fact that everything was going well, Mary Ann knew that could change at any moment. Sam was not the man she had fallen in love with in her youth.
The death of his family had changed him in many ways. He drank too often and gambled away his money. Mary Ann knew he had a tendency to start fights and jump headfirst into reckless situations. She sometimes wondered if he missed being an outlaw. “Come by to walk me home?” Mary Ann asked. He nodded his head and wrapped his arms around her waist.
The door chimed open and they jumped apart. Jesse Porter cocked his brow and shook his head. “You’re lucky it was me and not Boone. He’s doing his rounds now, helping