Clenching the reins in her hands, Mary’s horse thundered down the road, taking a wounded Ross with her. Her heart pounded in her chest, feeling like it was about to come out her throat. Victor Del Avilasto, a horrible, abusive man, hell bent on murdering her and her companions, was behind them. She dared not look over her shoulder, fearing Victor and a bullet would be there. Scrunching her eyes, Mary strained for any sign of a building.

Peeking over her shoulder, seeing a house on the outskirts and tucked back a way off the road. The road went downward and curved to the right.

“Pleasant afternoon, my dear,” Victor said, leaning against the front porch of the house.

Eugene’s worried eyes met hers briefly. Digging her heels into the horses’ side, Mary urged her tired beast on. Out of her peripheral, Victor pulled a pistol from his side. The bullet leaving the chamber made her skin crawl. Her heart leapt in her throat. A shriek of a horse split the morning air. Mary caught her breath. Eyes wide, she glanced behind her.

Eugene and Audrey were caught under their fallen horse. The animal whined, in pain. The light in its eyes slowly waning as the whining slowly faded.

“You all right?!” Mary asked, doubling back.

“Ride Mary! Get help!” Eugene commanded.

Holding her breath, Mary spurred her horse. Her mount nickered, tossing its agitated head. Her heart pounded quicker than her horse’s hooves. Ross, slumping over in his saddle, barely hung on. Mary bunched his horse’s reins tighter in her hands, arm out behind her, dragging his reluctant mare along.

She swallowed hard. Gotta get help for Audrey and Eugene. First though, Ross ain’t goin’ to make it much longer. Gotta get him safe first. God, give me time!

Sweat poured down her forehead; its salty beads falling on her lashes and stinging her blue eyes. She whipped her blond head around, gazing frantically for those who chased her. Mary let out a breath. Squeezing her legs tighter, she pleaded the horse to go quicker than he already was. The swinging sign of the local doctor, greeted her eager eyes.

“Hang on, Ross,” she called behind her.

Taking a peep over her left shoulder, she reigned her horse in, noticing Ross slouched over the front of the animal, with his brown hair hanging in his face. Mary’s horse barely came to a stop before she dismounted. Her men’s clothes sagged on her body. Her light blue shirt had holes every so many inches, not to include the large, blood stained one in the shirt’s shoulder put there by the bullet stopping the previous owner from hurting her or Eugene. And her black pants had a belt that would not tighten enough. Grabbing the waist with one hand, she dismounted.

Sprinting behind her to Ross’s horse, she put her hands over her head. Grabbing hold of Ross’s pants, she yanked him to her, stumbling a bit as Ross’s weight hit her.

“Help!” she shouted, gasping at Ross’s bulk. “DOC! DOC!”

Mary struggled to keep him upright in her arms. Ross was a head taller, if not a bit more, than she was. Mary grabbed around his good side, careful of his gunshot wound on his left side.

“DOC!” she yelled again.

A middle-aged man ripped open the dark wood door. His face staring down at the floor, eyes scrunched, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What in the world,” he grumbled, lifting his head.

Mary scowled. “He’s bleedin’ bad. Been shot by a gang of riders.”

Doc came taking Ross from her completely. Ross’s feet stumbled alongside, almost dragging behind him. Mary held the closing door open for the man to take Ross inside. Once her companion was safe, Mary turned on her heel, leaving the shocked doctor and Ross behind.

“I’ll be back! Gotta get the sheriff!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Mary only ran a few steps when a man stepped outside of a building, arching his back and stretching his arms out to the side. The glinting golden shimmer of a badge caught her attention. She changed her footing, heading headlong for the man.

“Sheriff!” Mary hollered.

The man groused, taking a slow, deliberate spin on his heel. “Ma’am. It’s not yet dawn.”

Mary stopped, grimacing at his lack of interest. “Victor Del Avilasto shot my friend and is about to kill two more. You need to come!”

The man fully faced her now, brows raised with a sarcastic disbelief on his face. “Ma’am, the man you speak of is a wanted criminal, a very dangerous man.”

Mary crossed her arms. “I speak true,” she growled. “One of ’em is at Doc’s now.”

Without uttering another word, the sheriff strode past her and up the road from where she came. Mary walked quickly behind the long-legged man. The sheriff strode into Doc’s building, going to the back.

Ross lay on the table, the white sheet under him made him appear paler than he was. Another sheet covered his lower half. Doc’s hands were covered in blood. An instrument settled itself in his right hand, hovering above Ross’s shoulder.

Doc glanced up, blinking multiple times. “Sheriff,” Doc began, “this man came to me a few moments ago.”

Mary perked a brow. “Believe me now, Sheriff?” she bit out.

This dawdling sheriff wasted enough time like all men, Mary grumped. Ya go off tellin’ the truth yet they believe otherwise or have ta see for themselves, she rolled her eyes. Think we’re right dumb, they do. Women are smarter.

The sheriff glowered at her. Mary matched his ill gaze.

“Del Avilasto, you say?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” she replied, matching his condescending tone. “I’ll take you right to him.”

Doc stared at them both for a moment. Ross groaned on the table.

“Miss,” Doc began, “are you not staying with your husband?”

Mary chortled. “He ain’t my husband. He’s my friend though. I will be back for him in a moment. C‘mon Sheriff.”

Jogging out the door, she headed to her mount. The sheriff walked briskly back to the door she first saw him come out of, yell inside, and mount his horse. Mary mounted hers with ease, waiting impatiently for the rest of the men and the languid sheriff to hurry.

Take another hour why don’t you, she seethed. Check to make sure I’m riding a horse and not a turkey. Mary’s upper lip twitched.

Six deputies came one by one out the door behind the sheriff with rifles and revolvers on their hips. It took forever as each man went back inside to grab either another gun or more ammunition. Mary’s fingers strummed on her leg. Even her own horse was irritated if the constant twitching of his ears was anything to go by.

Finally, posse assembled, and with the dark countenance of the sheriff leading the way, Mary spun her anxious horse around, taking off at full speed up the hill. The sheriff and his deputies trotted their horses behind her.

Mary exhaled sharply, let’s take ten years.

Her horse, tired already from their journey, frothed at the mouth. She silently promised him lots of carrots and oats soon as her friends were safe. Glancing behind her again, the sheriff was galloping now, but still some ways behind.

Focusing on the road ahead, she rounded the corner, nearing the final stretch of the road toward her companions. Mary breathed out; eyes wide. She reined in her horse.

“Audrey,” Mary exclaimed from around the corner, “Eugene, damnation! That took plum too long. Got the sheriff dawdlin’ behind me.” She finished with a roll of her eyes.

“Victor is dead,” Eugene informed gruffly.

Mary nodded. “Ross’s at Doc’s. Hope he pulls through. It’s lookin’ a might grim.”

The sheriff reined in his mount a bit behind her. The firm look on his face annoyed her. His lack of concern and need to affirm accusations of a woman furthered her desire to steer clear of men. The sheriff glowered; eyebrows pinched so far together one could not discern the color of his eyes. The six deputies reined in at least twenty feet behind the sheriff. Their observant eyes keenly taking in her companion’s appearance.

“I’m goin’ back to Doc’s. Keep an eye on Ross,” Mary commented. She took off on horseback down the road, her hand waving in the air.

She breathed out relieved. Her task was done and Audrey was safe. Guilt clawed at her for what she’d done. She never intended for things to get too far out of hand and when they did, it was too late to stop it. And by then, she too was controlled by Victor Del Avilasto.

She reined in at Doc’s door, dismounting and leaving the beast ground tied where he stopped. She burst through the door. The curtain fluttered where Doc just pulled it closed on the room Ross happened to be. He turned toward her, drying his hands on a clean towel.

Mary’s heart embedded itself in her throat. “Is he dead?” she ventured blaming her weak voice on fatigue.

Doc shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly, setting the cloth down on a table. “God seems to favor him. The bullet lodged in his lower left quadrant,” he paused.

Mary made a face. It’s his gut not his quade-runt.

“The side of his stomach,” the doc clarified, “missed everything vital and was quite easy to remove. The other bullet in his shoulder was close to exiting. I was able to remove it.” He sat down in his black chair, heaving an exhausted sigh. “I have no idea what trouble found you, and I don’t want to know. Whatever it was, put it behind you, but go forward with God in your heart. You may go back and see him.”

“Thank you,” Mary replied.

She didn’t know what else to say to the man. God left her when she was a child when her mother left the family. God left her again when she was forced to care for her younger siblings by herself while her dad drank himself stupid and her aunt couldn’t be bothered. Mary knew God was around, that he was as real as a tree, but when it came to her, God turned his back.

Mary pulled the curtain gently. Ross lay still on the table. Bandages covered his shoulder and his stomach. He breathed lightly; his color still pale as the sheet he lay upon.

Approaching him from the left, she plopped in a chair by his bed. Tears stung behind her eyes but she sucked it all in, making it stop. She wiped her nose on the dirty, light blue shirt.

Gently she stroked his hair, pushing it to the side. Dark stubble lined his jaw. Mary smiled wanly.

Sure, is a handsome man, she thought. Kind too. He makes my heart beat all crazy, she sighed, letting her fingers linger on the back of his head. This is all my fault. None of us would be here if it weren’t for me. I damned us all. She ran a hand over her face. By Lordy I damned us all. I’m a fool of a woman. If I don’t hang for this, I swear I’ll do good.

She reached for Ross’s hand, taking a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Ross,” she said, giving it a squeeze. “I almost got you killed; Audrey and Eugene… I’m so sorry. I hope ya’ll can forgive me at some point,” she breathed out, tears falling down her cheeks unchecked. “Please… pull through.”

Ross didn’t move. Mary laid her head down on the small space on the table Ross lay on, never letting go of his hand. Her nose sniffled. One last, lone tear rolled off her cheek.

I’m going to do better from here on out, she vowed.

Mary woke with a start. Someone put a hand on her head, moving their fingers about her blond hair gently like one would do to a child. She raised her head, turning toward the feeling of the person touching her.

Ross’s hand removed itself from her head flopping itself on the table with a thud. Mary raised up, stretching her back and shoulders. Her body aching from the awkward position of sleeping. The blanket resting softly on her shoulders rolled off.

With the heels of her hands, she rubbed at her eyes. Her mouth opened; a soft yawn escaping. Rolling her neck to the side, she heard it pop. Mary leaned forward in her chair, her dirty clothes feeling stiff on her body. Ross’s eyes crinkled at the faint sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtain.

“How d’ya feel?” she asked softly.

Ross moved his head to the sound of her voice, his eyes barely opening. “Like shit,” he replied hoarsely. He licked his chapped lips. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yeah… I couldn’t leave ya,” she breathed, putting a hand on his arm then promptly removing it. “Doc said yer gonna pull through, but shouldn’t move for a bit.”

“Got any water?” he asked, his voice cracking and becoming breathy.

Mary scanned the room for a pitcher and a cup. Her eyes landing on the small table to the right of Ross. Getting up, her tight muscles throbbed with each boot step. Her lower back and calves ached. She poured a small cup of water, holding it in one hand. With her other, she lifted Ross’s head, putting the cup to his cracked lips.

Ross coughed after taking in a large gulp of the liquid. He sputtered, shooting some of it down his body.

“Easy,” Mary said.

Ross pulled his head away. “Thank you.”

“What?”

“For saving me. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”

Mary shrugged, feeling the guilt she thought she repressed surface. She wasn’t a good woman, or kind. She was a fighter. She had to be to survive on her own. How Mary wasn’t at the end of a hangman’s rope, she could only guess God had plans for her or she got really lucky. By all accounts, she should be swinging for her crimes. She was so desperate for money and a decent life, she helped Victor Del Avilasto and his gang kidnap Audrey. Only to find herself soon facing death from Victor.

And that was just the tip of all the things she’d done. Stealing from anyone she could was a bad enough sin. God stated it in his commandments and she was certain she broke every one of them too, except adultery.

Mary put a hand to her throat. “Think nothin’ on it,” she dismissed.

Ross rolled his head to the side, his gray eyes more open and gazing at her. “Now stop that guilt right there. Don’t deny it. I see it cuz I feel it some too. Like me, you got messed in with bad people.” His brown hair stuck out all over the place, dirty and greasy.

She didn’t reply. It was more than something so simple. Growing up, she was left by her Mato be raised by her father. He was a good man, in of it all, he tried the best he could for her and her three younger siblings after their mother split one night. Father moved them to Kansas City to be close to his sister, Winnifred, taking up odd jobs before landing one as a barkeep. After that, swill became preferable to family.

Mary sighed, shuffling her feet. I surely did and now I will pay for those crimes in some way.

Ross’s cracked lips tried to grin. “It’s all right,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Mary let him take it. The warmth and reassurance coursing through her. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the kindness and tenderness of something so simple as holding her hand. No one held her hand before.

He gave her hand a squeeze. Mary relished in the protective power. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. Ross slipped his hand away, resting it on the table. The coldness of his departed hand sent a chill down her spine.

I ain’t so sure things will be all right, she thought, brows furrowing. I had to make them so growing up and it didn’t pan out much.

No one in Kansas City would hire a kid, let alone a girl. It didn’t help she couldn’t read and write. Boys were the preference in stores to lift hefty objects. Her solution was to steal to put food on the table for them all. And soon stealing became a way of life from Kansas City to St. Louis, all the way down to San Antonio. It was all she knew, until someone finally hired her. She never told her siblings how she got the money. The shame was enough being on her, still plaguing her now at twenty years old.

I cain’t change what I’d done. I can change the now, Mary decided. No more thievin’, rustlin, lyin’, nor cheatin’. From here on out, I’ll be good. I don’t want that life no more.

“Hungry?” she asked, breaking the silence and changing the subject.

Ross’s eyes narrowed on her. “Yeah… Thank you,” he said again. “I owe you, Mary.”

Mary felt herself begin to sweat. Ross made her feel twitterpated, like she lost her damn mind somewhere and couldn’t find it. Not once had he judged her; even while they were with Victor together and now since being free, there was no judgement, only reassurance. Not once did an unkind word pass his lips. He regarded her in a neutral expression and spoke in a gentle, warm tone.

Her heart pounded so hard, it felt like it could slap her across the face. She fancied Ross, even back with Victor, she would ogle him from a distance. There was something about his easiness, his calmness she liked. He was a quiet man, not speaking unless he felt it important and he was fair in his words.

She shook her head, forcing herself out of the day dream. “You owe me nothin’. I’m pleased we got outta there alive.”

“Same,” Ross groaned, shifting on his bed.

Doc came in, throwing the curtain back. Dark bags hung under his eyes like suitcases – heavy and clunky. Grumbling under his breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. He threw back the curtains hanging over the window.

“Glad to see you both are awake,” the Doc yawned. “It’s morning. You have all been asleep for a while. Slept all through yesterday,” he said in a droll tone.

The Doc leaned over, pulling back the bandages on Ross’s shoulder. Mary scrunched her eyes, peeking in toward the bandages. The wound on his shoulder was not red and festering like she thought it would be.

She made a face at the black, neat stitches. She wanted to gag. She was not one for blood and guts. In all, Mary could deal with it, but it made her nauseous. Animals she could handle, the gutting and skinning of them. After all, she had to eat and that part was necessary. People though, not so much. Mary covered her mouth to keep herself from dry heaving.

Ross met her eye, giving her a wan smile. Mary returned it, feeling heat creep to her cheeks.

“Looking good,” Doc commented

Doc pulled down the sheet covering Ross, peeking down the top of the bandage on his stomach. He made a face, poking at Ross’s wound with his finger. “Take it easy. No heavy lifting for a few weeks. Come see me in about four days or so to change the dressing.”

Ross groaned, sitting up. Mary grabbed his hand, gently helping him to a sitting position. She went to the end of the table, getting his boots, and Ross helped wriggle his feet inside. Ross thanked her with a genuine smile reaching his gray eyes. Mary gulped, taking a step back from him.

“What do I owe ya Doc?” Ross said.

Doc shook his head. “Nothing. The Whitman owner paid for everything. Her message is to come see her when you’re through here.”

Ross nodded. “I’ll head there now. Thank you, Doc.”

The Doc headed toward the curtain, pulling it completely back. “This way when you’re ready.”

Mary swallowed, I’m swinging now.

Mary helped Ross up the stairs to the Whitman Hotel. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf. She felt sick. If Ross felt her shiver, or the cold, clamminess of her skin, he didn’t comment. He tucked her arm inside his, holding it in place protectively. The warmth from his body did little to settle her nerves.

Her mind raced with what would happen once inside. Would the sheriff be there to escort her to jail? Would she be banished and told not to return to Denver? Mary bit her bottom lip until it indented and almost bled. Part of her was terrified to find out what lay in store for her behind those doors. The other part desired to face her demons, her mistakes, and own up to what she’d done to Audrey, Eugene, and Ross.

Ross groaned, taking another step.

“You alright?” she asked.

They were almost to the top of the landing where the large wooden carved bear greeted their entrance. Ross hissed, nodded, and took another step. Mary’s foot hit the top of the landing. All breath and nerves escaped her, only a definite resolution to walk inside was left.

“I’m so sorry Ross,” she said, tears burning behind her eyes. “This is all my fault. If we…”

Ross gently, pulled her to him by her chin. He wiped her tear with a stroke of his thumb, “No,” he replied, sucking in a breath, letting it out slowly. “You were trapped like the rest of us.”

Mary sucked in her lips, daring not to speak. It was her fault. Audrey and Eugene getting held captive, Ross getting shot, and they all barely escaped with their lives; all of it was her fault. How things panned out the way they did, Mary surmised God must want her to keep her skin for now. She knew He existed, but now He must want something from her. There was no other way to explain why she was breathing.

God, she thought, iffn’ yer really there, thanks for savin’ me, and keepin’ me alive. I appreciate it.

Feeling better after thanking the Good Lord, she reached for the door, opening it and allowing Ross in first. He stood there, blinking.

“No, ma’am,” he said firmly.

Mary put her hands on her hips, “Yer injured.”

“Don’t care. A woman, in a man’s presence, never gets the door,” Ross stated, holding the door open with his good shoulder and leg.

Mary walked in, getting the other door. An iron brick weight lay on the other side of the door. Using her foot to grab it, she propped it open. “I didn’t get this one,” she said with a smirk.

Ross gave her a pointed look, but said nothing as he awkwardly strode inside. Catching up to him, she glanced up, spotting the remnants of a small grin on his lips.

Going to the front desk, her heart pounded in her chest. Her palms sweating profusely as she rang the bell on the desk corner. Audrey came out of the back with Eugene behind her. Audrey appeared every bit fancy, like how she, herself, tried, and failed, to be once. Mary swallowed.

Audrey came to the front of the counter, a beaming smile on her face. Eugene’s dower expression held Mary’s a moment. His eyes blazing into hers like fire and she gulped again.

“I’m happy to see you both are doing well,” Audrey said.

Ross dipped his head, removing his hat. “Ma’am, I’m indebted to you.”

Audrey smiled. “I would like to hire you both. Mary, we need an extra hand in laundry, and general help. Ross, you will run the barn out back. Two meals and board are included. Pay’s a dollar fifty a day.”

Ross lowered his head, wringing his hat in his hands. “Mighty generous of you, Ma’am. I accept yer offer. However, Doc said I cain’t do much for a few days.”

Audrey leaned over, putting a hand on his good arm. “I understand. Doctor Collins told me everything. And do not tax yourself, you helped saved my life and so your debt is paid. Just start with what you can. An hour here or there, and no lifting. Maybe familiarizing yourself with the equipment and horses at first then, as you feel better, you can do more.”

All the air in Mary’s lungs left her. She gaped like a dying fish. She didn’t know what to say or how to feel. She almost got Audrey and Eugene killed. She almost got them all killed and now she was getting offered a job? A place to stay? It made no sense to her. Yet she felt immense relief to not be on a tree, swinging in the wind. And she felt confused at how this woman could offer her, the one who wronged her so much, a lifesaving job and place to stay.

For the first time in her life, she was being offered money for hard work and a home. A place to lay her head and not fret about where her next meal was supposed to come from; and if she could get enough food for three other mouths along with a decent enough roof to cover their heads. She sent money back when she could, and as much as she could, even if her siblings didn’t need it now. When Winnifred married, her siblings went with her, finally cared for with hot meals and a roof, more than she could ever do. Mary spun on her heel, facing the door. Exhaling slowly, she urged the tears back into her eyes.

A home, she thought. A bed all my own with a real blanket. A good meal and not something dumped in the dirt. Good Lord above, I don’t deserve it.

“Mary?” Audrey beckoned. “Is that not satisfactory?”

Mary spun around quickly, facing Audrey, “By Jove,” she breathed out. “You serious about hirin’ me on?”

Audrey nodded. “Quite.”

“Is that a yes?” Mary asked.

Audrey smiled. “I am serious, Mary. If you would like employment, you are hired here, or you can go elsewhere.”

Mary let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, “I will work for you.”

Audrey clapped her hands together. “Splendid. Let’s put this entire event behind us and move forward,” she stated, embracing them both. “Here are a few dollars to get yourselves new clothes,” Audrey said, handing them each an envelope. “Now, let me show you to your rooms.”

Ross followed in step behind Audrey. However, Mary found she couldn’t. Her mind reeling from all the events, and trying to process it all. She stood by the front desk, eyes fixated on the lower hems of her dress and the floor, worrying the envelope between her fingers.

Mary pinched her side and jumped when she did it a little too hard. I’m still breathin’, she thought. It all feels unlikely, like a great dream that’s too silly to be real like.

Ross paused, holding out a hand to her. “Mary,” he said softly, “come on.”

Mary tentatively took his proffered hand. Ross put her hand on the outside of his arm, falling in step beside Audrey once more. The owner of the Whitman Hotel took them past the staircase and around the side. Eugene brought up the rear.

Mary closed her eyes and sighed. I’ve got a second chance and a new beginnin’… I won’t squander it, she thought, giving a wan smile to Ross who reciprocated her grin and patted her hand.

“You all right?” Ross asked.

“Peachy keen.” Mary replied through tight lips.

Her insides quaking like at any moment, all of this would be a farse and she would be on the street once more, trying to fend for herself. She didn’t want this to be a dream, but she also didn’t feel like she deserved it all. Her mind jumbling with reasons she should be dead.

She put a hand to her forehead, taking a deep breath in.

“Mary,” Audrey said, stopping in front of a door. “you’re staying in this room with Lena. And Ross, you’re the last door on the right. I will see you both in a while. If you need anything, speak to Jane McCarthy. She knows about your employment.”

Mary stood in front of her room, staring at the door and the shiny brass knob. Peeking over her shoulder, Ross had a hand on the knob with the door already open. He smiled, nodding at her, and stepped inside. Mary turned her head, focusing on the door. Closing her eyes, and turning the knob, she stepped inside.

The sun beat down on Mary’s back as she scrubbed the laundry. A cool wind softly blew past her, bringing some relief to the hot sun on her shoulders and the warm waters of the laundry. After three days of being in laundry, she got a good grasp of what was to be done. She also got a good grasp of how others felt about her.

The first day everyone was indifferent to her. They weren’t mean, but not kind either. She deserved it. She deserved all of it for what she’d done. Now, the others were coming around to her a little, although most left her be, and often refused to talk more than a word or two while in her presence. Her roommate Lena was the happiest and most talkative of all of them, treating her no differently than anyone else. The manager, a straight nosed, sharp eyed woman, hadn’t spoken to her at all.

Mary swept her small blond strands of hair off her face. She braided her hair down the back of her head, but even then, her hair managed to escape. Mary rolled up the sleeves again on her navy-blue dress, not wanting her new garment all sopping wet.

Eliza came out, getting more of the clean clothes. Mary flashed her a smile; Eliza returned a terse one.

Mary sighed. Everythin’ will work out, she thought, scrubbing the last of the linen. Lena is nice. And so is Ada.

Eliza came out again for a few of the other garments and items she washed, taking them inside, and hanging them to dry by the wood stove. Kelly was in an opposite room, mending anything that might have frayed or been damaged.

Mary scrubbed the last women’s dress, wringing it out and putting it through a machine to get out more water. Taking the garment inside, she handed it to Eliza, who hung it on a wooden drying rack.

Kelly glanced up, her keen old eyes taking her in. “All finished?”

“Yeah,” Mary replied. “The last of room 205 brought in.”

Kelly nodded. “Go tend the garden out behind the barn. Bring anything ripe to Claudia in the kitchens.”

Mary went out into the bright sunlight. The moment she was out of the door, she could hear Kelly and Eliza speaking in hushed tones. Mary swallowed the lump in her throat.

I don’t have to stay, she thought. Just work to get a bit of money and go somewhere else.

Strolling down the pathway behind the Whitman Hotel, around the back of the building, a few horses whinnied from their stalls. Ross was out with a horse, taking a bridle off.

Mary went inside the barn, looking around. Like the prettiness inside the hotel, it was the same in the barn. Everything was in neat, tidy rows. Neatly labeled barrels lined the outside of the tack room. Mary lifted the top of a barrel peeking inside. Oats. Mary shut the lid and walked farther into the barn.

Ross came in from a side door, flashing her a smile. Mary tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, returning his smile.

“Hey Mary,” Ross said, shutting the door behind him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be takin’ it easy?” she chided.

Ross shrugged, hanging up a lead rope. “I am. I’m not lifting. Already saw Doc Collins this mornin’,” he pointed to his side. “Healin’ good.”

Mary nodded, rubbing her left hand on her right arm. His handsome gray eyes stared into hers. Stubble lined his jaw, adding to his ruggedness. Mary swallowed.

“I’m glad to see yer healin’ fine,” she offered.

“Thank you.”

Mary bit her lip. Last time she had feelings for another person, it screwed her over. Her intended left her for another woman, stranding her in Kansas City, penniless and without care. Right then, she swore off men. Swore off the name of Charlie too; vowing to never name her kid that either.

She reminded herself Ross was only being nice because they were once stuck in the same predicament. He don’t like me, she cautioned. He’s a nice man, bein’ nice like nice men do.

“I’d best be off to tend the garden,” Mary announced.

“I’ll help you,” Ross said, coming up beside her.

Even in the barn, away from the heat of the sun, she felt her cheeks flame and warmth creep down her spine. I’ve plum lost my mind, she thought.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I appreciate it kindly.”

Ross dipped his head, going in front of her and opening the side door to the back garden. Stepping back out into the Colorado sun, the aroma of freshly turned soil mixed in with the hay and horses, brought back memories of her Ma and how they would garden together. Mary pushed the memories aside. Her Ma was probably long dead by now.

Mary went to the far side of the garden by the carrots. Checking the long stems, she pulled some out of the ground. Ross knelt beside her, picking zucchinis.

“Where you from?” Ross asked casually.

Mary licked her chapped lips, feeling her mouth turn to cotton. Peeking over, she caught his tanned face focusing on pulling vegetables.

“I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio. Then when Ma left us, my Pa moved me and my three younger siblings to Kansas City. There I met my former fiancé,” she rambled, feeling the words tumble from her mouth without wanting them to, but not seeming to make it stop, “his name was Charlie Hilbert… he left me for another woman.” Inside she cringed, not wanting to tell him that part of her life and not knowing how he would receive it. “I was young, about seventeen.”

Ross remained silent. Her blood turned to ice. Silently, she cursed herself for being forward with him, more than she planned on being.

He asked where I was from not my life story. Good Lord, Mary!

Setting her pile of carrots beside the zucchinis, she moved along to the cucumbers farther down the neat row; leaving the tiny ones while grabbing the prickly big ones. The corn was about ready to be pulled off and eaten though it would be a few more days since the little hairs sticking out the end weren’t quite long enough.

“Where you from?” she asked, breaking the small silence between them.

Ross paused, leaning back on his heels. “All over. My Ma left us too, so Pa moved me and my sister around where he could get different jobs. My sister died of scarlet fever. Pa remarried and I got a half-brother, Richard,” he removed his hat, scratching his head. “I was once engaged. She left me too, sayin’ she needed more stability than what I could provide.”

“That’s the most I heard you speak to anyone,” she replied in a teasing tone.

Ross shrugged; his lip quirking in a half grin. He moved, working beside her on the cucumbers, checking them and turning them over. Mary plucked a few, setting them beside the growing vegetable pile.

“What’s yer full name?” she asked.

Mary swallowed, feeling more heat creep to her cheeks. Being in close proximity with a handsome, kind man was new to her. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed him.

Ross paused in pulling up a weed. “Ross Evan Montgomery. And you?”

“Florence Miriam Lockburn.”

“Pretty name,” he said, smiling. “Thank you again, for savin’ my hide.”

Mary paused her work, staring into his stormy gray eyes; twinkling at her under the shade of his brown hat, gazing into hers with a knowing like he could see the real her, deep down inside.

“I couldn’t leave you to die,” she answered truthfully.

Picking up her hand, he kissed the back of it. “Thank you.”

Mary felt her cheeks flame hotter than the kitchen oven. Hotter than that too, more like the sun. If she could swoon over someone, she felt it would be him. Charlie never made her feel valued or appreciated. She was his tool, a means to get rich and then let her take the fall. She hesitated with Ross too. How their relationship began, casual and kind, was the same way hers and Charlie’s began.

She closed her eyes. I cain’t let myself get too close, she reasoned. I won’t make the same mistakes.

Turning back to the vegetables, Mary moved along to the bush beans. Her mind wandering to when Charlie took her to St. Louis, almost getting her strung up for what he’d done, and blamed on her. He stole jewelry right off a woman, planting the items on Mary, while he went back, taking the woman’s purse full of money. Mary barely made it out alive as the sheriff’s deputies saw her wearing jewels too good for the likes of her and chasing her half way out of town. Right after the trip back to Kansas City, Charlie left her, but not before taking her to bed and then taking her money.

Tears tracked down her face. Shame for the time period creeping into her heart, and filling her with immense guilt; not for what she’d done but what she’d let be done to her. She was a fool of a woman. Believing and hoping someone could love her for being different than who she really was – a miscreant.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she picked beans off the bush. She wouldn’t be able to right the wrongs she’d done if she spent the rest of her life trying. She’d stolen from so many people, hurt so many. She’d never be able to repay the hurt she’d done to Audrey. But she would try, damn it, because she was tired of hurting people.

Mary sniffed, piling the bush beans in the apron part of her dress. It was awkward for her being here, working. She wasn’t used to eating meals together like a family, talking about the day or laughing about rowdy customers who came through the doors. She wasn’t used to belonging anywhere. She wasn’t sure if she belonged here yet, or if she would ever belong anywhere. She was used to being alone, always alone. And she deserved it after all the hurt she’d dealt.

Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she sniffled, blowing out her breath.

“Mary,” Ross called softly.

“Yeah?”

“We’d all done bad things.”

“Yeah,” she sniffed, hiccupping, trying to keep herself from blubbering.

“Doesn’t make us truly bad hearted people.”

Mary shrugged. “I’ve done terrible,” she trailed off.

Coming beside her, he set down his tomatoes. “As have I.”

Mary dried her eyes, gazing into his. Tears tracked down her face. Ross swept her tears away with a dirty thumb leaving behind slight smears on her light skin. His stormy gray eyes held hers firmly. Pushing his hat back off his face a bit, his messy brown hair matted with sweat to his forehead. His tanned and dirty face brought out the brightness of his eyes and white of his teeth.