Chapter 1:

  It was a jostling of his shoulder that stirred the man from his deep thoughts. He rose his head from its downward cast to level his stoic gaze at the woman riding abreast of him.

  “Are you even listening to me, Colt?” She wore a frustrated expression upon her face that showed she had been trying, and failing, to capture his wandering attention.

  He ignored her question, instead, noticing the distance between their horses she had closed to grab his shoulder. He eyeballed the ugly foot or so of empty space with disapproval and the barest of scowls. “Don’t ride so close, Sonya. You’ll spook my horse.” He used her name dryly so she might better heed his words and stared back into the abyss to find his thoughts once more.

  “Well, you’re cheery this morning," Sonya huffed as she gently tugged the reins of her horse to guide it away from his. “I think, when we get to town, I’ll buy you a good whore to fuck away that bad attitude that’s crept into you today,” she said with a chuckle that threatened to escape her fresh grin but a cupped hand over her mouth discouraged it. Colt knew she would follow through on her comment though despite her apparent enjoyment at its offering. She’d done it before several times.

  Finally grabbing his interest, he lifted his cold eyes to her. “Just make sure she’s worth more than four copper pieces this time.” He voiced it with a grumble while he brandished the backs of four colossal fingers at her, the nails and grooves of his skin filled with dirt from their travels.

  “What about me? Can a girl have some copper for herself and her indulgences as well?” A playful, almost hungry grin danced across her face, and it only earned her a raised eyebrow from the burly man. She was joking of course. Sonya hated buying pleasure.

  “Since when did you…” the man started but let the question die on his lips. His brow furrowed. “You grew up too fast. I’d strangle any man who touched you.” Colt dug his heels into the sides of his horse to quicken its trot, wanting to distance himself from the inevitable reply.

  “Good thing I prefer to do the touching!” The woman called after him as she did the same to match his pace.

  “I pray to Ovaro you’re joking,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Sonya dawned a mask of false shock “You pray? I had no idea you were such a man of faith.” She tried to cover another bout of laughter afterward and almost succeeded. They came out as snorts as she tightened her lips.

  “Don’t be a fucking smartass, girl.” He tried his best to remain indifferent, but his obvious frustration broke her. She let flow all the laughter she had forced down and clutched her sides as it rolled out. If there was anything she loved, it was ruffling this man’s feathers. Colts’ brow tightened only slightly along with a subtle scrunching of the rest of his face as he endured Sonya’s enjoyment at his expense.

  The fit of giggling carried far enough to catch the attention of a young boy working the stables at the head of the town they had just ridden into. He turned and, seeing the opportunity to make himself some coin, changed his expression from one of curiosity to that of excitement.

  “Hitch up ya’ horse for ya’, sir?” The boy asked earnestly after running up to them.

  Colt pulled on the reins and stopped as he looked down at the shabby youth. He was a short thing with a sweat-covered shirt and muddy pants he had long grown too big for. His greasy blond hair hung low enough to almost obscure his vision and smudges of dirt populated his face.

  “How much coin are you asking for, lad?” Colt questioned as he stared down at the boy.

  “One coppa' each, sir.” The boy spat to the side and hooked his thumbs into the waist of his trousers to show his firm stance on the meager price.

  Colt swung a leg over the back of his horse and stepped down into the shallow mud that caked the hoof-beaten road running through the town. He tossed him 4 copper pieces and the kid greedily snatched at them in the air, managing to catch them all.

  “Feed them, wash them. You understand me, boy?”

  The whelp didn’t say a word. He just nodded and grabbed the reins from the two travelers and guided the horses to the stable to be tended to.

  “I’d kill for a hot bath right about now,” Sonya moaned as she threw her hands behind her head to rest on the back of her neck. The hood of her cloak was down so she could look up towards the sky and she watched as the recently emptied clouds drifted across the blue, her fingers took turns absently flicking at her ponytail. The silky length of hair swung back and up with each impact and almost seemed to dance in the air before making its swaying descent back down towards the next waiting finger.

  “You think the inns in this shithole have hot water?” It wasn’t a question he expected an answer to. Looking down, he pulled the brim of his hood down further over his face and watched as his feet kicked up mud that soiled the edges of his cloak.

  “Did you sleep on a fucking rock last night? Why are you being such a prick this morning?” The childishness that had plagued her voice up to this point vanished, replaced by a sharp edge that cut.

  “You know why, damnit. We were only supposed to grab the gold. Nothing else.” Colt held out his hand and wore a stern expression, his eyes boring into hers. “Give it to me. Now.”

  Sonya crossed her arms on her chest and glared at him defiantly, but only for a moment. She knew she wouldn’t win this one. Her hand dropped into a pouch tied to her belt, fingers rummaging around through its contents until they pulled out a golden hairpin. Its brilliantly polished surface caught the sun and threw a sparkle into Colt’s eyes, and she flicked it with a thumb through the air at him. He caught it without breaking away from her gaze.

  Once he had it, he held it up to his face and gave it a good look. It was a beautifully crafted piece of jewelry bearing the crest of the royal family of Corvallia. Sonya saw it as a prize, but he saw it as a liability. This identified them as the thieves who plundered a royal stagecoach a few days ago bound for the capital. They didn’t need this kind of attention. He jammed it into his own pouch at his waist.

  "At least get something for it," Sonya moaned. She crossed her arms and grumbled in displeasure at having been relieved of her trophy.

  "Are you kidding me? What in this town is possibly worth a hunk of gold and silver such as this?" He patted the pouch at his side in gesture. "We could get the whole shop in town for what it’s worth."

  Sonya clasped her hands together and begged. "Will you let me pick out a few things at least? I'll be good I promise, Colt." She stuck out her lower lip and pouted.

  Colt sighed with a hand on his face. "You're lucky to get the butter on the bread I give you with the way you act, woman," he growled. Colt had put up with this for years and still had no idea how he did it.

  "That's because you care about me so much, " she said with a grin that cascaded across her face as she brought her hands back up behind her head once more and exaggerated every one of her strides with her short but slender legs.

  They rounded the corner into what passed for a market in the little town. People moved from stall to stall, coin was exchanged, and merchandise traded hands. For such a place, it was busy, but not a crowd you could get lost in.

  Halfway up the street on the right, Colt pointed out a two-story building with the words GENERAL GOODS painted in worn white letters above the door. "I'm going to head in there and exchange this mistake you made for supplies." He said it to sting her, but it didn’t even tickle, and he knew it. She moved on too quickly. In this case, though, that was a blessing. He didn't want to deal with her whining any longer than he had to.

  "As long as you get me something with sugar while you're in there." When she said it, her voice was as sweet as honey. Colt groaned as he turned towards the shop and walked away.

  Sonya stood on the corner and waited. She kicked a rock from one foot to the other and began to whistle to herself as the minutes passed. Soon she started to watch the people go about their day-to-day business, noticing more than a handful of opportunities to pickpocket a few of them, but restrained herself, the effort of which was a challenge in and of itself for her.

  Suddenly her instincts kicked in and her senses narrowed as she felt someone running up from behind her. With her head turned she spotted a man out of the corner of her eye as he tripped and began a descent towards the dirt. With reflexes that could complete with a bolt of lightning, her hand shot out to rest a palm against his chest to stop his fall, and with hidden strength, pushed him back upright again. Sonya turned to him with a smart remark about to break past her lips but stopped when she got a good look at him.

  He was a whole head taller than she was, and that was being generous. His short, light brown hair was swept to the side in a style that was above his station and two piercing blue eyes stared down at her with a look of fading surprise that soon melted into appreciation. He had a sharp nose set above a pair of fair lips framed by a strong chin and jaw. The man was lean too. She saw it in his arms and felt it in his chest too when she had caught him.

  Well, well. You are just my type, Sonya said to herself as she bit her lip. Her eyes ate at him; all of him. The man noticed her appetite and took a hesitant step backward, his smile changing from that of appreciation to one of nervousness.

  "Um..." he began, clearing that nervousness from his throat, "thank you very much for the help." He coughed into a fist.

  Sonya took a bold step forward to take the space he had given her and placed a finger on his chest, tracing circles there and smirking up at him. "It's no trouble at all," she cooed. "But we do need to work out what you owe me for the assistance." As she said it the rest of her fingers joined the one already placed there, and she spread them out to plant her palm there once more. She could tell he was uncomfortable, and she was loving it.

  "I'm sorry, miss. My gratitude is all I can afford." A bead of sweat formed on his brow as his neck and cheeks flushed red.

  Wow. Cute, shy, and well-spoken. Where have you been, you delicious thing? She locked eyes with him. "What's your name? At least offer a girl that much." Her stare cut into him, making him all the more nervous.

  "It's Thomas, miss. And you are..."

  "Oh, that's not how this works, honey. When you learn my name, you're going to be saying it over, and over, and over again." With each repetition, she inched her lips closer and closer to his ear. Her closeness almost made him stumble backward and trip over himself. Sonya giggled at his cute clumsiness.

  "I'm sorry, miss, but I really have to go now." He began to skirt around her, but her palm remained where it was as she turned to face him where he went. When he had reached the other side of her, he paused. They stared at one another for a short while, predator and prey, until Sonya tented her fingers on his chest and pushed him away.

  "Fine, but don't go far, Thomas.' She winked. "I want to be able to find you later." With this, he gave a quick, nervous smile that vanished as fast as it had appeared. When he turned to walk away, Sonya gave him a good swat on the ass that made him jump. Thomas made his way hastily towards the general store without looking back. Sonya couldn't help but laugh into her hands as she watched him scurry off.

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  Just as the man entered the store, Sonya saw Colt pass him on his way out. He made his way to her with a pack slung over his shoulder and stopped a few feet away, confused by her giddiness.

  "What happened to you?" He asked, puzzled.

  Sonya laced her fingers behind her back. "Just had my fun," she replied with a grin, "but I think I might want to go for round two." She glanced back in the direction Thomas had gone and she almost licked her lips. She knew she had been rough on the guy, but it had been hard to resist.

  Colt’s mouth curled up into the barest of smirks. "That was too quick for a bout of pleasure, girly. I'm disappointed. I hope you didn't have to pay."

  The woman’s jaw nearly dropped. "Did you just make a joke? You?" She was stunned. "What perked you up while you were in there?"

  The burly man hefted the sack he had up higher on his shoulder. "I found a nice gift for my boy back home. Turned out to be a good day." His smirk, which had been undetectable, almost turned into a genuine smile. A rare thing indeed.

  "And the day will only get better! Let's go get you your fun." The enthusiasm in her voice was radiant. Colt gave a small chuckle as his partner slapped him on the back. They made their way to the inn across the street. "And I'll make sure to spend a whole silver piece on a good woman for you this time around."

  Colt almost choked. "A whole silver? Are you mad? No woman is worth a silver lying on her back! No more than ten copper, you hear?" He said this with a meaty finger in her face as they climbed the steps to the deck of the inn. "And you know what I like. Go find me a good one." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "After you do you can go out and have your...round two." This last bit was hard for him to spit out, but he managed.

  With a bounce she gracefully cleared the half dozen or so steps they had climbed and twirled on a heel in the dirt back to face him, bursting with energy. "I'll send one up faster than you can take your pants off, boss." Sonya turned and made her way back through the market with Colt left shaking his head and sighing in front of the inn.

  They grow up so fast, he thought. He was so proud. The giant of a man placed a big, calloused hand upon the worn wood of the door and strode inside.

. . .

  Thomas opened the door to the general store to find a large, cloaked man staring down at him, his eyes glaring at him from the darkness thrown by his drawn hood.

  "You're in my way, boy." The man’s voice was deep and reeked of command. "Move."

  With only a moment’s hesitation, Thomas stepped to the side to let the stranger pass by. He stayed and watched for a second as the man descended the steps then turned and walked into the shop, the door creaked shut behind him.

  "Thomas, my boy!" The shopkeeper called out to him across the store. "Come in, come in! Aimee is just upstairs." He turned around to return some goods to their proper place on the shelf behind him.

  Thomas crossed the floor to the front counter, happy to be in the company of a familiar face after the two strange encounters he had just had. Maybe not totally strange, but definitely strange for this little town.

  "How's business, Mr. Westler?" He was fidgeting with the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. Not because of the overly forward woman he had met outside, but from the simple fact that he knew just above him, on the second floor, was Aimee. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  "Business is business, lad." He knelt behind the counter and reached deep into its depths for a moment. When he surfaced, he had a spark of wonder in his eyes. "But I did recently acquire something most curious." He placed atop the wooden counter a hairpin. It was a gorgeous piece wrought of gold and silver. Within its interwoven curls of precious metals was the royal crest; a triangle crossed with a sword, an arrow, and a rose.

  "Where did you get this, Mr. Westler?" Thomas was dumbstruck. He has never seen so much wealth in one place before.

  Mr. Westler held up a hand in protest. "First of all, Thomas. We've known each other for years now and I do insist you call me Don." Thomas nodded, hearing him but unable to tear his eyes from the pin resting on the counter. "And second," he continued," I got it from that mountain of a man that almost made you wet yourself on the way in." Don chuckled at this last bit. So did Thomas, if only to go along with Don in his apparent enjoyment at Thomas's expense.

  "What did he ask for in return?" Asked Thomas.

  "He asked me what I thought it was worth and after verifying its authenticity I told him he could leave with just about anything he wanted."

  Thomas looked around at the fully stocked shelves. "I wouldn’t say you've been picked clean, Mr...I mean, Don."

  Don gave a little laugh. "That's the strange thing about it all. He only grabbed the essentials. Traveling gear, various accouterments, food, and the like." He placed his chin between his thumb and forefinger, thinking. "Oh, and a lovely wood carving of a horse my dear Aimee made."

  Thomas smiled. He knew Aimee’s carvings well. She'd been getting better and better over the years. Often, he'd come by and see her sitting in a chair on the porch whittling away to find some new beast she knew was hiding within the grain of the wood. His smile deepened. Any thought of Aimee made him smile. Lately, she had been the only thing on his mind. The thought of her was inescapable.

  Don saw Thomas's attention shift to the pin once more once he had broken from his thoughts. "Yes, it's a pretty little thing indeed." He remarked.

  "What are you going to do with it?"

  "Well, I'm going to have to sell it. I parted with a fair amount of supplies in exchange for this wonder." He seemed morose as he said this.

  A brightness lit Thomas's eyes. He slammed his palm flat on the counter and determination washed his features. "Mr. Westler...Don, sir. Allow me to pay for the hairpin. I’ll give you all the coin I have saved up and I'll work here in the shop for free as long as you need me to." He dropped his voice despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins and leaned in slightly. "I think this would make more than a perfect gift for Aimee's birthday."

  Don lifted an eyebrow as he considered this. His daughter was quite fond of the Holy Family, whose crest was so delicately formed of gold and silver on the pin. It would indeed make a fine gift for her. Also, though, he recognized that Thomas could hardly afford such an expense, even with long hours of work piled on top of his savings. He was prepared to make a sacrifice though, for his daughter and the good lad in front of him.

  The anticipation was making Thomas sweat as he waited for Mr. Westler's answer. He continued to stare at Aimee's father, never breaking. Don on the other hand was flicking his eyes from Thomas to the hairpin, and back to Thomas again.

  “No, Thomas, I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He watched as the boys’ features sagged with disappointment. Don let the moment stretch out a little longer before continuing. "Seven silver and nine copper," Don finally said, his gaze settled on Thomas after taking another peek at the pin.

  Thomas was confused. He gave his head a little shake and blinked a few times to clear the look he had been displaying. “Excuse me, Don. I think I’ve missed something. Seven silver and nine copper for what?” His confusion never left him, however.

  “I thought about it, and I think it would be most beneficial to all parties involved if you simply paid for the mans’ supplies instead of the pin. It would be a financial load off your young shoulders, a wonderful gift for my girl, and a pleasure to me knowing I had a part in this. I can suffer the loss of extra income. It won’t mar my business one bit.”

  Thomas was shocked. This was the last thing he expected. Everything seemed to have fallen neatly into place. It was almost too good to be true. He stuck out his hand with a huge grin on his face. Don took it and shook firmly, matching his smile.

  "Seems we have an accord, my dear boy."

  Just then Thomas heard footsteps coming down the stairs beyond the counter. Without a thought, he grabbed at the pin desperately and slipped it into his pocket. Right at that very moment, an absolute vision of loveliness traversed the last few steps and arrived at the landing at the bottom. Aimee stood there with her deep blue eyes drinking up Thomas's lighter blue ones. She wore her waist-length hair in a single braid and her cute lips formed a smile that made the man melt inside.

  They stood for a while, lost in each other. Both were nervously fidgeting with whatever was close at hand. For Aimee, it was her braid which she had pulled over her shoulder to hang down her chest and for Thomas, it was the pin in his pocket. He turned it end over end between his fingers. The moment was only broken by Aimee's father who cleared his throat and looked at both in turn.

  "Hello, Aimee," Thomas gulped. He took a shaky step forward, removing his hand from his pocket and the pin. He brought it up slightly as if to touch her but dropped it halfway through the motion and met it with his other to hang in front of him. He couldn't believe how much he was stumbling. he could barely get the words out.

  "Hello to you too, Thomas." She took two long strides towards him, clearing the landing and walking past the counter. Thomas felt a steady heat rising from his chest, his heartbeat quickened.

  Again, there was silence. Mr. Westler rolled his eyes this time. "As much as I adore the sight of love blossoming, I must insist that you go about your chores, dear." He pushed up his glasses which had slid down to the tip of his nose and crossed his arms.

  Aimee spun around with frightening speed and glared at her father, face turning red from both anger and embarrassment. Thomas, broken from his stupor, shuffled about from foot to foot for a moment, and his head turned back to the door not once, but twice.

  "I really must be going anyway, Mr...Don...Aimee." He flushed before heading for the door across the room, Aimee shaking a finger at her father as he left.

. . .

  Aimee crossed her arms across her chest and bore into her father with a fire in her eyes. She had finished berating him, for now. Ever since the nervous tension between Thomas and her started her father had noticed. It wasn't a particularly hard thing to miss. It was when he had seen no progress being made between the two of them that Don had begun to poke and prod their affairs to do his best to move things along. He liked Thomas. He thought he was a good man, and he knew he'd be good for Aimee.

  Don looked at his daughter over the frame of his glasses with a little smile upon his face, arms crossed, mimicking Aimee in every way save for her sour demeanor. It didn't take long. She eased and her arms fell to her sides. Aimee looked defeated, and she was. In more ways than one.

  "Come, come, dear," her father advancing and taking her into his arms, "everything will be right as rain." He grabbed her chin gently and tilted her head up to have her meet his gaze. "I can assure you that what you're experiencing isn't easy. I must say I was as smooth as a rusty horseshoe around your mother when I first met her." He chuckled and cleared his throat. "Which is to say, not at all."

  Aimee pushed away from him slightly. “Well, what happened? Who was the first to…you know?” She made a gesture to accompany the question then started absently rubbing her hand.

  “Ah yes,” Don said, a sniffle and a tear both escaping him. Not a tear of sadness, but of remembrance. Aimee placed a comforting hand on her fathers’ arm, which he covered with his own hand. “That was actually your mother.”

  Aimee was more than surprised. Her face was awash with the expression. “No! Mother?” It was almost a gasp. Like Aimee, her mother had been a woman of deep faith and was always appropriate regardless of the occasion. The thought of her being so forward was an image she couldn’t quite form in her mind.

  “Yes, yes. Every time we would cross paths I would choke up and nearly stumble over myself.” He pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger again. “Then one day she cornered me.” Don clenched his hands into fists in emphasis. “She stood up on her toes to better match my height and leaned into me with a finger jabbing into my chest and said ‘Donald Arthur Westler. You are taking me out on the lake in your fathers’ boat tonight and I don’t want to hear a single word against it. I’m quite tired of you clamming up when you see me so consider this my effort in reeling you in.’ And that was all it took.”

  Aimee put a hand up to her open mouth to hide her shock at hearing about her mother's brashness. “What did you say?”

  “Well, naturally I was absolutely terrified. Of course, I said yes without hesitation. I even added a ma’am to the end of it. To be honest I think I would have been more comfortable at the sharp end of a knife than at the receiving end of your mother’s ire.” That last bit threw things off. There was an awkward stillness in the air that seemed to last far too long. Neither said a word, but they both found their gaze had drifted down to the hard, wooden floor of the shop.

  Her father coughed then eased himself down onto the stool behind him, wiping his now sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m…I’m sorry, dear. That’s enough for today. Why don’t you go on the deck and whittle away at a fine piece of cherry?” He gestured to a small stack of wooden blocks in the corner they had for her carvings.

  Aimee stood there vacantly for only a moment, rolling the fabric of her dress between her fingers, then hastily grabbed a chunk of wood and the knife resting beside the pile and headed for the door.

  “And, dear,” her father said as she reached for the handle. She turned to face him. “I love you very, very much.” Another tear grew in his eye. This one was of sadness. “And so did she.”

  Aimee turned back to the door after a pause and walked out, trying her best to put the thought of a knife's potential to steal a life out of her mind. The fact that she clutched one in a white-knuckled grip did little to help. Also, the blood. So much blood. That memory needed to go too. The whittling would help as it always did, even if that help was proving less effective with every passing day. She sat in her usual spot on the far end of the deck in a rocking chair. She brought the knife up to the block and began to shave away at it to free the little wooden bear she saw trapped within the chunk through eyes rapidly filling with tears. They rolled down her cheeks and fell on her hands and in her lap to join the discarded wood shavings.