Dark Heart Wolf

by Haley Weir

  "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. "You a witch too or somethin' like that?" he grumbled as he pushed off the wall.

  "No."

  "Your power feels old. Ancient even. Does Jesse know you're like this, Ruth?"

  "Ruth? Oh, yes. That is the girl's name," the girl chuckled. "She is quite strong despite her many flaws. I like her."

  "But...you aren't her? You're just possessin' her or somethin' like that?" Sam rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck to relieve the coiled tension in his body.

  "Yes. She does not know I am with her. Ruth will awaken and think that she merely had a wonderful night of sleep."

  "And you?" he questioned. "What exactly are you, and why are you in her body?"

  "We all have a role to play in this war. Do not tell the others of my presence or else I'll kill the girl." Ruth or...not Ruth turned to walk away. "You may call me Saala if we meet again. And if you wish to be rid of your guilt, climb to the mountain and speak with your family. Get their blessing and return to Mary."

  "Why are you helping me?"

  "I have my reasons."

  Chapter Twelve

  Two weeks later…

  Wolf Valley,

  Colorado

  Mary Ann placed a hand over the slight curve of her belly as she hung linens on the line out back behind her house. Folks continued to go missing from town, which meant the sales at the bakery had dropped so low that she had to sell her shop to the bank just to keep the house. She still sold a few goods out of her kitchen and delivered sweets to the ranch from time to time, but Mary Ann looked forward to the day she would be a mother.

  Though darkness surrounded them every step of the day, Mary Ann had never felt so much light. She hummed a simple tune and finished up the laundry. With news of her pregnancy spreading through town, it had been no surprise when Jesse informed her that Sam and Boone had come to blows over it. She didn’t want people to view her or the baby as a burden, so she stayed away mostly. Abigail’s pregnancy was further along than her own, and Mary Ann didn’t want to add to the panic that settled on the ranch.

  Beth, Jesse, and Ruth visited her the most, but Mary Ann kept an eye on Sam whenever he came into town. She continued to smile and wave at him whenever they crossed paths. Mary Ann even made sure to leave him his favorite sweets outside his door whenever she visited the ranch. She missed Sam. She missed his friendship just as much as she missed being held in his arms. The scent of his skin no longer lingered in her house, and it no longer felt like home.

  Mary Ann carried the basket of dried linens into the house and dropped them onto the floor. Beth and Sam stood side by side in her kitchen. Mary Ann pressed a hand to her chest and then scurried to pick up the laundry. Beth beat her to it and set the basket on the table. “W-what are you doin’ here? I wasn’t expectin’ guests.”

  Sam stared wide-eyed at her belly.

  Mary Ann felt herself blush and attempted to cover herself. Beth punched him in the arm and finally answered Mary Ann’s questions. “We’re here to take you back to the ranch. Forget what’s going on with Boone and Sam. Forget about everything. You need to come with us. It is not safe here anymore, not with more wendigo turning. The new sheriff is aware of what’s happening, but we can’t afford to—”

  “What does Sam think?” Mary Ann asked, interrupting Beth’s plea. “I’m not goin’ anywhere if it makes Sam uncomfortable. I won’t be like everyone else; I won’t put my needs before his. I’m perfectly fine livin’ on my own. There’s no need to make his life more difficult.”

  Beth laughed obnoxiously, and a...weasel popped its head out of her coat. The eccentric woman took a moment to pull herself together. To Mary Ann’s surprise, Beth didn’t explain her weasel at all. "Sam doesn't know what he wants. He's stuck in the past and he needs your help to get out of there."

  "What are you talkin' about?"

  "You and him are going on a journey up the mountain," Beth explained. "Itsá and Gabriel are taking you with. I have to stay here and deal with the fact that I'm a fox shifter."

  "You're what?"

  "I was taken by some Comanche skinwalkers that broke away from their tribe. They wounded Itsá and took me to their camp. Sam, Wesley, and Jesse helped me get away and they struck a deal with the wolves."

  Mary Ann could not believe how much she had missed.

  Beth pulled a piece of bread from the platter on the table and fed it to the tiny critter that clung to her. "But when I was in the camp, I caught onto a few things. Working in the steel mills in Chicago all my life has been hell, but at least I learned some valuable skills."

  "Like what?"

  "Like recognizing the smell of a forge and furnace. They've got a weapon maker," Beth supposed. "If you and Sam go up the mountain to complete his task and get Itsá, we might be able to get the Comanche to give us a hand."

  "Why would they help us?"

  "Turns out they don't know the second spirit has risen. They talked about the Wendigo Spirit but not the skooma—no, that's not right. Scmudamuch? Schmarmaduck?" Beth continued to struggle with the name until Sam took pity on her.

  "Skadegamutc."

  "That's it," she said excitedly before returning to her usual surly disposition. "Anyway, I figure if Itsá and I go speak to them together, we might be able to make an even stronger alliance than the one we already have."

  "The Comanche ain't known for workin' with settlers, Beth." Mary Ann was still unsure. "Either way, I wish you the best of luck." She lifted the laundry and carried it up the stairs.

  Beth's voice carried through the house. "Go talk to her!"

  ~*~

  The halls were quiet. There was no laughter that rang through the corridor or gentle whispers that he remembered. And he only had himself to blame. How many times had he wandered these halls? How many times had he crawled into Mary Ann's bed and stroked her hair as the nightmare of her brother's death haunted her? Sam followed the thin ray of light that spilled from her bedchamber and knocked on the door. "May I come in?"

  "Of course. You can do whatever you like."

  He opened the door and caught himself staring at the roundness of her belly once more. Sam swallowed noisily and forced his gaze away. Mary Ann busied herself with tidying the bed. Sam searched inside for the courage to speak. "I'm sorry," he croaked dryly. "I treated you badly, a
nd instead of bein' your friend, I walked away. I should have stayed."

  "You did what you felt was right."

  "Stop!" Sam snapped. "Stop pretendin' you ain't angry at me. I can see the hurt in your eyes, Mary, and I was the one who put it there. I deserve your anger."

  "No. I won't." Mary Ann pushed the wardrobe shut and sat at her writing desk. "I understand why you are unable to meet my gaze. Your family was taken from you, Samuel. And you were left a broken man. You have every right to be afraid of what is still unknown. I won't hold your grief against you."

  "And the child?"

  She smiled then, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "We'll be all right."

  "That ain't what I asked you."

  Mary Ann shrugged. "Your father was a terrible man. He hurt you, and he deserved to die as painfully as he did. My father got what he deserved too when my brother shot him for lookin' at me wrong."

  "I thought your folks died in a wagon accident?"

  "That's how it looked when Leroy was finished, but I know the truth. Mama was sick near the end of her days. Not in her body, but her spirit. Every day her mind got worse until she hurt herself," Mary Ann confessed. "She took the coward's way out and left us here alone. People think Pa never came back but he did...and, when he looked at me, he saw a woman, not his daughter."

  "Leroy shot him?"

  She nodded. "Killed him dead and made it look like they had both died in the accident. He never let me forget the sacrifices he made for me, either."

  Sam could not imagine a father thinking of his own daughter in that way. "I ain't goin' to lie, Mary. I wish your pa were still alive so I could kill him myself."

  She shook her head and toyed with the lace at the cuff of her sleeve. "I know your mother was ill before she died and your brother holds that against you—as if your presence would have made any damn difference. Everyone is always mad at one another, and I'm sick of it. If I ain't holdin' on to anger for the man that made my life hell on Earth, what makes you think I'm upset with you? I ain't angry at you, Samuel, I'm angry for you."

  "So, what does that mean for us, Mary Ann? I don't understand what I'm supposed to do."

  She stood up and waddled over to him. Mary Ann grabbed his hand and laid it upon her belly. Sam inhaled sharply and felt tears sting his eyes, but Mary Ann held him steady by putting her hand across his. "You can see this as a second chance and a blessin' or you can see it as just another curse tryin' to break you down. Ask me to climb that mountain with you or follow Beth home. It's your choice."

  Sam closed his eyes and dropped to his knees. He pressed his ear against the bump that cradled his child. It wasn't Savannah. It wasn't his Malia. Sam could practically taste the smoke on his tongue and smell the fire that took them away. "I can't stand this anymore. This is eatin' away at me. Climb the mountain with me."

  "And if you don't find what you're lookin' for?" she asked quietly.

  "Then I find the Wendigo Spirit and I do what Wesley failed to do the first time."

  Mary Ann looked away and stepped back. "That's suicide. You can't fight that thing."

  "No, I can't. But I'd much rather die tryin' than to keep livin' like this and hurtin' you. I just want us to be out of our misery, Mary." Sam stood up and walked over to her. He reached for her, and Mary stepped into his embrace.

  "I'll pack my things and meet you outside in the wagon."

  Sam kissed her forehead, still taken aback by the fact that she allowed him near her. "Mary Ann."

  "Yes?"

  "If this works, I want you to be my wife, and I want us to be a family. A real family. I don't want us to make the mistakes our parents did."

  She yanked him down into a kiss that stole the last of his will. Mary Ann gasped as Sam tangled his hands in her hair and angled her perfectly for a deep, sensual kiss. He felt the glorious light of her love melt away some of the ice that had built up around his heart.

  Sam felt her heart sing and tasted her tears as she pulled him closer. He had to try to make amends. If not for himself then for Mary Ann. When she pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Whatever happens...know that I love you, Mary. More than I should."

  She bit her bottom lip and said, "It's about damn time, Samuel Cassady. And I love you too. I always have."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mary Ann climbed into the saddle and pulled a poncho over her shoulders. Sam reached up and adjusted the hat on her head before he mounted his mare. Jesse strapped the bedrolls down, and Wesley handed Mary Ann some gloves for her hands. Boone and Abigail watched from the doorway of the stables. “Thank you, everyone. I wish we had time to say goodbye to everyone. Wesley, please give Charlotte my best when she awakens.”

  “Huntin’ down them outlaws took a lot out of her, so I’ll be sure to do that. You be careful now. The both of you.” Wesley waved them goodbye and headed into the house. The snow had begun to melt enough that the mountain path was visible, but the air still had a crisp chill as the wind blew.

  Jesse and Ruth followed Wesley inside, but Beth exchanged a few words with Sam that Mary Ann had not been privy to. When all was said and done, Sam led her away from the ranch. He was quiet for nearly an hour as he watched the lands change. Mary Ann was the one who broke the silence. "I've been thinkin' about names. If I'm havin' a boy, then I want to name him after you...if that's all right."

  "And a girl?"

  "I was hopin' to name her Kate or Marylin. Somethin' simple." Mary Ann patted her horse on the side, and the happy stallion tossed his mane. "I feel like I've missed quite a lot. What happened when you and Boone talked?"

  "I...ugh...can't really remember much," he replied. "I know we argued, but then Charlotte gave me a vision."

  "A vision?"

  "In the vision, she was used as a conduit for power and I was her weapon. We destroyed everythin' that crossed our paths, and then we raised the third spirit from the abyss."

  "What happened after the vision?" she asked. Sam heard the confusion as well as the concern in her voice.

  "I woke up only yesterday, Mary. Abigail said I collapsed and didn't wake up until a message was delivered by Itsá."

  "The message to journey up the mountain?"

  "He did not tell me about the journey itself; someone else did. But Itsá told me instructions on what I have to do when I get there."

  ~*~

  The scent of damp wood and soil soaked into his senses. Hawks flew overhead, cawing as they hunted down their meal. Sam felt like he could finally breathe now that he was miles away from anyone but Mary Ann. He tried to behave when he left her, but he failed miserably and felt the need to apologize. He cleared his throat and steered his horse closer. "I'm sorry, Mary," Sam said quietly, trying not to break the tranquil atmosphere.

  "About what?"

  "I've been drinkin' again," he confessed. "I been drinkin' a lot, and I know I promised you that I would stop."

  "I'm sorry too."

  "For what?" Sam frowned over at her in confusion. "What could you possibly have to apologize for?"

  "I'm sorry you're drinkin' again. Anybody who chooses to drink themselves half to head clearly ain't happy. They're hidin' some pain inside of them. No one wants to feel drunk when they're happy with themself and their life. Simple as that." Mary Ann shrugged her shoulders. "And I'm sorry I was the one that caused you to start drinkin' again."

  "Things would have been worse if you had kept the child from me."

  "I would never do somethin' like that, Samuel," she breathed upon a sharp exhaled. "Not to you or myself."

  Sam chewed the inside of his cheek and wished he had packed a flask to calm his nerves. "Well, the liquor ain't the only thing I have to confess. But it's part of it. You could never understand how upset I am, how terrible I feel."

  "What is it?"

  He pulled his horse to a stop and reached over for her hand. "I was drunk and reckless. Full as a tick and barely able to keep my head up...and I woke up in a bed that wasn't
my own, Mary. I woke up in the brothel. I never intended for another woman to touch me in that way. I promise—”

  Mary Ann held up her hand to stay his words and rode ahead of him. In her silence, he felt the weight of his mistakes. Sam didn’t have to hear the sniffles or the winded breaths to know that she was crying. He didn’t have to see her shoulders tremble or her head lower. Mary Ann’s sadness festered in his heart right beside the guilt and the fear that he would lose her forever. Sam only hoped that her forgiving nature hadn’t run dry for him just yet.

  He spurred his horse on and caught up to her, reaching out to touch her arm, but Mary Ann flinched away. “What do I have to do to make it up to you?”

  “You woke up in the brothel, but you don’t know what happened?” she snapped. “I’m tryin’ to see you for the man I know you can be...you’re makin’ it harder each time you open your mouth. One minute you say you want us to climb this mountain and free you of your burdens so you can love me. In the next, you tell me that you drank yourself unconscious and woke up in another woman’s bed. I’m your mate, Samuel. Don’t that mean somethin’ to you?”

  "It didn't in the beginnin'. Not until you gave me hope that it was real. Our marks and the way we bonded the night the witches attacked...I can't deny it no more. You are my mate."

  "I'm just not the woman you love." Mary Ann dried her eyes on the poncho. "You don't even know if anythin' happened before you woke up. Did you even ask?"

  "No. I just got my boots and ran. It ain't the first time I passed out and woke up with regrets, Mary."

  "At the brothel?" she asked with her brow cocked. Sam shook his head, and she scoffed at his answer. "Charlotte's friend Ariel knows we were together, Sam. Half the town knew it. Did it never occur to you that she might have looked after you?"