Dark Heart Wolf - Haley Weir Page 0,30
Ann blushed profusely and lowered her head. “I suspected when the sickness came, but then Abigail was almost certain when I hadn’t bled in weeks. She says it’s a sign that I’m carryin’ somethin’ precious inside of me.”
“Is this some sort of trick? Some ploy to get me to marry you?” Sam saw Mary Ann flinch, but he was too upset to see her pain. “What do you expect me to do?”
“Honest? I expect you to storm out my front door and grab a bottle of whiskey to soothe your troubled mind,” Mary Ann replied. “Pa taught me to never expect anythin’ from a man but heartbreak, a cold bed, and bruises. He taught me to never hope for anythin’ better than a man who would walk out after he used me dry, to never think I was the only one keepin’ him company when he needed a woman’s touch. But no matter what you choose to do, I’m yours. I’m here if you choose to come back. Even if I have to raise my child on my own and only see you in the fight, I’m ready for anythin’.”
“I ain’t your father, Mary.”
“Maybe not, but Mama would call me a fool for the way I love you if she were alive.” Mary Ann scoffed and handed him a new shirt that wasn’t tattered like the one he wore. Sam stared at her in bewilderment as she climbed back in the bed and turned out the lamp. “Are you comin’ to bed or provin’ me right?”
Sam stood dumbfounded. He didn’t know what else to say to her, so he clutched the shirt tighter in his hand and walked out of the room. Sam could practically hear his brother’s words echoing in his mind. Boone thought he was nothing but a worthless parasite that wasn’t good for anything except causing people grief. And Sam knew Boone was right about him.
Everyone had been right about him.
He made sure to lock the door after he left and walked down to the saloon as Mary Ann predicted. Sam shoved through the swinging doors and stomped over to the bar. He didn't bother asking the server for a drink. Instead, he grabbed a bottle for himself from the shelf and slammed a handful of money on top of the sticky counter before taking a seat near the back. Sam pulled the cork out of the bottle and propped his feet up on the table. He pushed the brim of his hat low over his eyes and sipped from the bottle.
"Well, if it ain't Sam Cassady."
Sam didn't say anything. He knew talking would only incite more violence, and he wasn't in the mood. The man nudged Sam's table with his boot and Sam lifted his hand, flipping the man his middle finger. "I ain't here to fight."
"Won't be much of one anyhow seeing as there's four of us and one of you."
Sam didn't move. Next thing he knew, he was slammed into the side of the saloon outside behind the building. Fists started flying. The four men continued to hit him over and over again, but Sam refused to defend himself. Knuckles crashed into the side of his jaw, causing his head to snap to the side. Pain radiated through his skull, and he spit a mouthful of blood into the snow.
Slowly, a smile began to curl on his lips. Sam felt as if he had finally plummeted back to reality. Months and weeks of sharing Mary Ann's bed, of feeling her kiss him gently as they fell asleep, had only been a dream. His hat fell to the ground, and the men caught sight of his glowing red eyes. They sneered insults, hitting him harder as he collapsed against the wall in a fit of laughter.
"Do it," he dared them. "Finish me."
The flash of metal beneath the pale moonlight was more welcome than it should have been as a knife came towards him. Before it did any damage, however, someone yanked the humans off of their feet. The men scrambled back and ran away in fear, and Sam was left behind to deal with...well, himself once again.
He cracked open a swollen eye and recognized the face of Ruth, Jesse's ward. She stepped forward and pressed the tip of her finger against the center of his forehead. Sam felt his wounds heal. He felt the liquor leaving his body, and all of that glorious pain faded into a dull ache at the back of his head.