and Abigail. The uncomfortable atmosphere was eating away at his patience. “I’ve spent three days at this ranch and nothin’ has happened. Is Itsá sure this threat is as big as he thinks?”
“Eight people have gone missin’ in two days, Sam. What do you think?” Boone snapped. “I’ve been out there searchin’ for these poor folks only to find piles of bodies or more wendigo.”
Sam looked at the scrapes and bruises on his brother’s face. “How many were there?”
“At least thirty. Stumbled upon what looked like a nest. Good thing them ugly bastards can’t see too good or else we would have been caught for sure.”
“The Wendigo Spirit is growin’ his numbers quickly then,” Sam supposed. “Beth and Abigail are decent fighters. The four of us can handle our own. But we don’t know how Charlotte will be if she returns in one piece. If you saw thirty wendigo already and Jesse barely survived the fight against the other horde the day Charlotte was taken, we don’t stand a chance.”
"Itsá is working on weapons. He needs to communicate with the ancient spirits so he can figure out how the Wendigo was defeated the last time he rose to power," Jesse replied as he sipped his coffee.
"Yeah? Well, what about the others? He said there are three evil spirits on the rise, and we're already gettin' our asses handed to us by the first one." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette before lighting the end with the lamp sitting at the center of the table. He popped it into his mouth and pulled smoke into his lungs. "I say we set fire to those damn mines and watch those things burn."
"We can't do that," Abigail said with a shake of her head. "Not until we know where they're keeping Charlotte."
The odds of the woman's survival were low. If she had survived the injuries she sustained in the fight, then she would have had to deal with the Wendigo Spirit, and if that hideous thing didn't kill her, then she would have died of the cold or been picked off by outlaws in the region. Sam didn't wish anything bad on Charlotte, but he preferred to keep a more rational outlook on the situation, and there was no proof that Charlotte was even alive.
The housekeeper announced guests a moment after the conversation died down. Mary Ann stood beside a girl Sam had never seen around town. Jesse and Abigail seemed to recognize her, however. The young girl threw herself into Jesse's arms, and Sam could have sworn he could smell the scent of his friend's tears. Jesse took a moment to collect himself before addressing the room. "I know this is coming as somewhat of a surprise, but I wanted to keep things quiet."
Sam stood up and offered his hand to the young woman. She seemed shocked by his gesture, and he didn't understand why. "My name is Sam Cassady, Miss."
"I...I've never shaken a white man's hand before. Other than Mr. Porter’s, that is." She swallowed nervously and then shook his hand.
"White man?"
"Can't you tell that I'm dark-skinned?" the young woman asked politely.
"I can only see in shades of red. And even then, it ain't very accurate. I trust my other senses more than my eyes. Would not matter anyhow." Sam smirked. "A lot of folks around here ain't bothered by such things."
Jesse whispered a thank you for Sam's ears only. "Well, this is Ruth. She's my ward. I'd like to keep this from Beth as long as possible. Don't need her asking too many questions."
Everyone groaned collectively. Abigail and Mary Ann rolled their eyes in tandem. The only person who could not see the spark between Jesse and Beth was them. Sam stepped back so that the others could introduce themselves. Ruth was tentative and bashful.
"I'll tend to my chores as soon as my things are put with the other workers'."
Boone arched a brow. "No rush, Miss Ruth. I plan to get you set up with an account down at the bank and a room here in the house. You might be doin' some work, but I don't need any more servants. Help out, and you'll get paid, but don't think you're obligated to do anythin'. If Jesse says you are his ward, then in my mind, you're family."
Ruth looked around nervously.
It was clear to everyone that she wasn't accustomed to kindness. Abigail placed her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "You can start studying to