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Back to Author | Back to Book Content copyright 2009-2012. Tammy Hinton. All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like …

Faces wet with tears, Francesca Sittoni and her mother clung to each other one
final time. Her mother’s bones felt as thin and fragile as those of a bird. With little enough to eat for any of them, Francesca knew her mother had been giving much of her own meager portion to her daughter and to her granddaughter, Elena, to build them up for the trip. Out of nothing, Maria Romallo somehow made do for her family.

Every woman, at one time in her life, will experience the phrase, I had an epiphany. Well that’s exactly what happened this particular spring morning when Emily Nelson’s eyes popped open just as the sliver of light at the break of dawn crept up the horizon and, for a moment, there was peace. Until she blinked a couple of times and reality set in. She glimpsed the lump beside her in their king-size bed—her husband, Bob. Emily pushed back her thick, dark hair and slid to the side of the bed. She was hit by irritating turmoil, an unwelcome friend, twisting up her insides as if wringing out a wet rag. Not even a shred of interest existed for the man she once loved. She’d more empathy for the crotchety old geezer at the end of the street. …

Sean, Mahlon, Foster, and J.D. had wound down a bit.Seated on wooden planks in front of the general merchandise store situated just down and across from the barber shop, they swept their dangling shoes through dirt resting a foot and a half below them. Four sets of feet rocked back and forth, back and forth, creating small, dense clouds that never managed to float above their knees. On one end, Foster was practicing harmonica, and doing quite well. Beside him, Sean paged through the stolen dime novel, practicing his reading skills. Mahlon was next, staring at the ground, lost in his imagination. And J.D., on the opposite end, glared at anyone who happened to pass by. …

Henry McCarty steered his buckskin mount slowly through the timbered foothills of the Rocky Mountains. The mountain man had been trailing the small alliance of Blackfeet Indians for two grueling days. He wrangled with a fierce urge to charge into their camp with guns blazing, but he could never compromise the life of his brother. Instead, he continued to bide his time, waiting for the right moment to free Lucas and escape the savagery for which the Blackfeet were known. …

Silence hammered in his ears like the rumble of gunfire that lingered in the haze of his memory. An arm, heavy with death, lay across the back of his neck, pinning his cheek against the frozen, blood-soaked earth. Stone Heart had no muscle or bone but sprawled limp, molded into the snow bank. Either he had perished under the white soldier’s vicious attack or was frozen stiff. Perhaps this was only a vision of himself alive, his spirit determined to take one final look at what horrors had been visited on the Beautiful People before journeying to the afterlife. The only way he knew he lived was the fire that burned in his side and leg. …

A sharp gust blew a small whirlwind across the trail in front of the rider, who jerked his horse to a halt. A faint, indeterminate sound reached his ears. …

Early evening shadows sent long, dark fingers across the alley at the back of Stirman’s Mercantile. Rachel crouched behind a stack of wooden crates, breath catching in her throat. …