Two days later, the doctor came.
She heard him ride into the yard, breaking the quiet like a gunshot. The ranch had been eerily quiet until then, almost like she was already dead and everyone was mourning her.
But she wasn't dead, not yet anyhow.
The thought was enough to make all her bones hurt, like she was being shoved into the ground too early.
Soul stirs next to her. He fell asleep next to her again, his head and arms resting on the bed, his long legs spread out on the floor. It can't be comfy, but she's glad for his presence. Steadfast and calming. He hasn't left her side much since the wolf attack, or since he slid that burning knife deep into her arm. The ghost smell of burning flesh still haunting her senses.
She reaches out, running her fingers lightly through his tossled hair. It's softer than she imagined it would be. In sleep, his face is peaceful, almost boy-like in its serenity.
A far cry from the grumpy frown he usually wore.
He had been so quiet and flustered with her the last two days. He had paced circles in the room, not seeming to know what to do. His eyes had held an emotion she could not read. She had shooed him out on more than one occasion before he wore holes in the rug.
She understood though, that helpless feeling lingering over the whole house. She was dying and for some reason, he was blaming himself for it. It wasn't his fault though, not really. He had defended her from the wolf as best he could, shielding her with his own body, putting her safety above his own.
He had pressed that knife into her arm with a steady hand, cleaned and bandaged the wound, and if the situation had been reversed she didn't know if she would have been able to stomach it.
No, she didn't blame him for the pain.
She did blame him for the way he made her heart clench so fiercely though. Like now, as she watches him sleep, her heart drumming in her ears painfully loud in the quiet room. Moments like this, she would cherish always, no matter if her days were numbered or not.
Whether he loved her or not.
The early afternoon light touches his face, casting shadows along his stubbled cheeks. He stirs, his eyes opening slowly, the sound of boots coming up the stairs a moment later. It was always eerie how his ears picked out sounds long before most people's did.
He shook his head, shaking the last bit of sleep from him as his gaze snapped to the door, his hand going to the pistol he always wore around his waist.
Every muscle stood at attention.
The door swung open without preamble and a lanky man with a scared face stepped forward. He wasn't big, in the way of bulky, but he somehow managed to take up the entirety of the room. The silver-haired man stared at Soul's prone position on the bed then raised a pale eyebrow at him.
Maka noticed two things then, Soul's body relaxed at the sight of the man, then just as quickly stiffened as he scrambled to his feet. Soul's face turns hard, but his ears are a soft shade of pink. He strides forward and grasps the man by the hand.
"Hell, I'm glad you're here, boss." Soul rumbles, his eyes shifting for a moment to hers. A silent message. Boss. So this intimidating man was her uncle.
He shook Soul's hand in return and clapped him heartily on the back. The warmth of their reunion was at odds with the two men, they could have been father and son had they looked a little more similar.
"I see the place is still standing, I reckon I left the ranch in good hands then." Stein laughs, his voice filling up the small place. The harsh lines on Soul's face waver for a moment, long enough for her to glimpse how he really feels. Though he tries not to show it he's rather pleased with himself, taking the compliment to heart. "It was an honor to care for the ranch while you were away."
"I see you've been taking good care of your ward too. Well, besides the whole rabies thing." Stein says deflecting the conversation back to her.
A grim expression flitters across Soul's handsome features, and it doesn't sit well with her in the slightest. Like he's blaming Soul for the wolf attack.
"Soul is not to blame, technically I'm your ward, sir." She grits out, glaring daggers at the man.
Soul's mouth slackens and his eyebrows shoots up. She's not quite sure if his disbelief is from the ballsy tone she's taken with her uncle or that she managed to sit up without fainting. Her uncle though only smiles at her.
"Let's talk in the study. Privately." Stein says, his spectacles glinting oddly in the sunlight.
Soul hesitates, enough for her to notice. It's enough for her uncle to notice too.
Stein's eyes cut between them. Those eyes are very keen, and Maka is reminded of a bird of prey; wise, but sharp, and capable of great violence. He places a hand on Soul's shoulder and squeezes, and Maka wonders if it's out of comfort or a silent command.
"We have much to talk about and the doctor is here to see my... niece, he says absently his eyes once again alighting onto her. "She'll be fine."
Maka squares her shoulders and looks back at him, unblinking.
"Later, when you're rested, I'll come visit. We also have much to talk about." He says pointedly but not unkindly. Maka nods in agreement. She has no intention of letting the man cow her, but she does have questions. A lot of them, really. Stein nods in approval and exits the room, Soul trailing behind him.
Soul catches her gaze and holds it a long moment before quietly shutting the door behind him. Maka lets out a long breath. A breath that feels like she's been holding in since the day she donned men's attire. This was it. The day she would face her uncle, as a woman, and find out if he wanted her here or not.
Did it matter though?
She looks down at her bandaged arm. She feels the shakiness in her body, too weak to even lift her head, let alone fight for her place here on the ranch. Did she even have much life left to live? She felt an invisible clock was slowly ticking by. Each minute was possibly her last sane one on the earth. She closes her eyes, trying to reach deep within herself, into her very bones, sinew, and blood. She didn't feel any madness there, but then again, could one even feel oneself going mad?
A light knock came at the door and a little round balding man popped in.
"Howdy ma'am, I'm Doctor Holt. I've been filled in by Stein about your unfortunate condition." He says breezing into the room like she merely has the common cold.
"Mind if I take a gander?" He asks, mopping his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief. Maka sags against the pillows in response, what little strength she has left starting to wane.
Was there any point in having a doctor look at her now?
She stretches her arm out, resigned to let the strange little man touch her.
"I'm a traveling doctor, I've seen lots of rabies, though there's nothing to be done usually." He lays a hand on her forehead and frowns. "Rabies is a terribly slow way to go. It starts with a fever. Headache, weakness and shaking of the body. Then you start to drool on yourself, have trouble swalloing, can't keep food down. You slowly starve, then you go all mad, buting people and being agressive. At that point it's better for someone to put a bullet in you." He says taking her arm in his beefy hands.
His touch is rough and fumbling as he removes the bandage that Soul had so painstakingly placed. It takes everything in her not to cry from the pain of it.
"Sorry, sorry." The doctor mumbles then hiccups. The sharp tang of whisky rolls off his breath.
Maka stares at him, astounded by the fact that the man, by all accounts, was utterly sauced. It was still the bloody wee hours of the morning! He reeks of alcohol, the strength of the fumes nearly making her eyes water.
"What the blazes happened to your arm? I thought it was an animal bite?" He exclaims, his eyes narrowing in confusion. His hand on her arm where it's branded is unbearably tight.
"Burned.The. Infection. Out." Maka grits out, her teeth clenched tightly as he pokes at the raw and angry flesh.
He releases her arm as if it's burned him, and Maka sighs audibly at the relief. "Wicked magic." He mutters, swiping at his sweaty face again. "Excuse me?" Maka half pants, the stars slowly fading from her vision. "You would have been better off dying of rabies than letting someone use injun medicine on you," The doctor scoffs, his thin-lipped mouth curling into a pitying pitch. "Those people are godless and filthy, I'd never let them touch a wound like this. If the rabies doesn't kill you first, you'll lose your arm. Then what? Do you think you're spirit will find rest, having let the devils defile you?" He slurs, making the sign of the cross over his chest, like she's already damned.
The native woman with the hungry children comes into her mind, sharp and bitter. Soul's pinched face as he tries not to let the words and prejudices of the town's people affect him. The sweet band of Cheif Standing-Tall's people. So much needless hate, towards kind people who never did anything wrong. Something fiercely protective snaps in her chest, cracking into little sharp shards, embedding deep, bringing pain and fire. Barbed shards that demand blood, demand retribution.
"No," she rasps, anger swelling in her guts. "You know nothing of kindness or medicine. You've damned me and a people who you don't even know anything about."
The round little man glares at her like she's a perpetual child. "And you know these people so well do you? That you can defend them so blindly." He scoffs. "Ain't you a good Christian woman? What about your everlasting Soul?"
She smiles bitterly at him.
"I don't pretend to know anything, but what I do know is blind prejudice when I see it. How does your God feel about that? Having so much hate in your heart?" She spits the words out through gritted teeth. Frustration and disdain wrapped up in her instruction. "You're soul in no better than mine or theirs, in fact you're is far more ugly."
"I beg your pardon?" The man sputters.
"I said, get out of my fucking room, you bloody rude, insolent little man!" She nearly screams.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were an injun lover." The doctor sneers, only making her contempt burn hotter.
"Fuck you!" Maka shrieks, grabbing whatever is in reach with her good arm. She throws a porcelain water pitcher at the man's head. He ducks with a curse as the pitcher barely misses him and explodes against the door. Jagged pieces of porcelain rain down, the sound nearly drowned out by the rushing in her ears.
"Crazy woman!" The doctor yells as he rushes from the room, slamming the door shut as she throws a bowl after him. It shatters with a satisfying sound. She looks around wildly, wishing she has more to throw at the asshole. If she wasn't so weary she'd chase the hateful doctor all the way out of the house.
Her body revolts though and she slumps back against the pillows. She places a shakey hand on her chest, feeling the thunder of her own heart. It wasn't ladylike, it wasn't civil, but she'd do it again.
She feels laughter bubbling from her mouth, but it's too late to choke it back. Madness or not, it feels good to let it out.
The two men settle into the study, talking of ranch work, cattle, hay fields, and numbers. A man who never beats around the bush though, Stein quickly turns the conversation to his niece. Soul's palms feel sweaty, the topic being one of great anxiety for him.
"She looks so very much like her mother," He says. "I'm sure she's just as stubborn as the woman was too."
"I didn't know you knew her mother." Soul says feeling genuinely surprised. He'd known this man his whole life and still sometimes he felt like a complete stranger, the man's life an utter mystery.
Stein inclines his head, his silver brows pulling together deep in thought. "I did know her, a long time ago, when we were young. That's how she and my brother met. I introduced them."
Soul holds his breath, waiting for the man to continue his old story. Stien's eyes shoot to him though, his voice no longer far away when he speaks, closing the door once more to his mysterious past.
"What do you think of her?" He asks his voice gravely quiet. Soul feels that uncomfortable fluttering in his stomach and fights the warmth he feels threatening his cheeks.
What did he think of her?
Hell, he was still trying to figure that out himself. That was a heavy question, and Stein held it to his head like a loaded weapon. He could see it, the way the man's solemn eyes bore into him, judging, weighing.
Soul met the man's eyes without hesitation. "She's unexpectedly the most extraordinary woman I've ever met."
Stein raises an eyebrow then barks a deep laugh that echos off the walls of his office. "Unexpectedly extraordinary huh? I've known you most of your life and I've never once heard you speak so eloquently. She can't be all that bad if she's been broadening your vocabulary while here!"
Soul feels sheepish but doesn't deny it. He had given her such hell when she'd first arrived, called her greenhorn, fancy pants, and ridiculed her for not knowing shit about shit. But honestly, after spending so much time with her, he could say without a doubt she was probably the smartest person he knew.
Stein's laughter dissipates, and once more he falls serious. "Vocabulary aside, it takes more than words and books to make it here. Wouldn't you agree?"
"She's tough." Soul says firmly.
Stein pins him with a golden eye.
"She's tough, but it takes more than that to live out here. She has to have a strong will, she has to be resilient. Do you think she has what it takes to not only survive but to thrive here?"
Soul did not answer right away, knowing the importance of his next words. Fear prickles his scalp. This was it, it was time to convince Stein to keep her here. Dread gnawed at his guts, the thought of sending her away almost too much. He steals himself, before speaking.
"I have worked alongside her, and have watched her handle things that seasoned men would have balked at. She works hard, harder than most of the men even, gender be dammed. She cares about the ranch and everyone who lives here. She cares for the land and respects it, in the same way that you and I do. She wasn't born here, but she belongs here, more so than most people."
Stein takes him in, looking down at him through laced fingers, his expression thoughtful.
"To be honest Soul, I don't know what to do with the girl. You know how I feel about having women here."
Soul grits his teeth in annoyance but controls his face. "I do. But you should reconsider this once. Tsubaki has been a good exception and I think Maka would too."
"She isn't like Tsubaki, and pampered women bring trouble in my experience."
"Maka isn't like that." Soul nearly growls, before covering it with a cough.
"Are you sure about that?" He challenges "She's lied to us from the start. She deceived us, for her own advantages, and that doesn't sit well with me."
"She had no choice!" Soul barks, then stills, realizing his mistake. Stein glares at him, his golden eyes drilling into him, knowing.
"I worry about the safety and peace of this family. I won't allow an outsider, a woman, to come into our home, to break us up, to divide us." He thunders in that quiet way of his.
Soul wants to lower his head, to agree, to give in to this man who has the authority to send them all away, but something deep in his ribcage rebels.
"Family. She's your family too, by blood, or have you forgotten that?" Soul asks quietly.
"My brother disowned me. I owe him nothing."
"She isn't your brother or her mother. She's your niece. Will you turn your brother's child away so easily without even giving her a chance?"
Stein locks eyes with him, but Soul doesn't flinch, matching the man's heated gaze with his own.
"So you trust her?" He demands.
"I do. I trust her with my own life."
"The problem is, Soul, that it's not just your life. It's everyone here."
"I know that." Soul says firmly.
Just then, a loud crashing sound reverberates down the hall. Voices are raised. The Doctor stumbles by the open door in his haste, his face sweaty and bright red. He glares at them both, but the brunt of his ire swivels toward Soul.
"Injun witchcraft." He seethes, pointing a shaking finger at Soul, then makes a sign of the cross over his chest. Soul glares back but remains quiet in the tense silence that follows.
"I will not treat that crazy woman, nor set foot in this god-forsaken place ever again! I have never been so wronged in my life!" He yells indignantly as he storms away and down the stairs.
Soul stands abruptly, worried for Maka, but Stein motions for him to sit back down.
"I never liked that man anyway." Stien huffs.
From down the hall, there is another crash and a violent string of curses that would make any seasoned cowboy blush.
"Quite the vocabulary indeed. She has her mother's temper too it seems." Stein cracks a grin, the tense moment passing as if it never happened.
Soul lets out a strangled breath, half amused and half embarrassed that she probably learned most of those words from him.
The older man stands, his joints audibly creaking. "I'll talk to her myself now, and then make my final decision. I should at least listen to what the girl has to say."
Soul nods and rises to his feet following his boss out of the office. Stein lays a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "I'll be talking to her alone."
A tight knot forms in his throat, but he nods in agreement. Of course, there was no need for him to be there too. The thought of her being alone though, as Stien decided her fate here, made his chest feel strangely tight.
Maka was still fuming when a firm rap at the door sounded.
"You bloody hateful man, I told you to leave," Maka shouts while looking around for something else to hurl.
"I come in peace," comes a muffled reply.
Her uncle sticks his head through the door, his gaze taking in the ruins of shattered porcelain everywhere before eventually landing on her. He steps into the room, slowly as if he's as unsure of her as she is of him.
"May I sit?" He inquires politely, gesturing to the chair next to her bed. She inclines her head, feeling as if she is receiving a guest for afternoon tea instead of a long-lost relative.
He eases into the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him, and pins her with an assessing look, not even trying to hide his intent. It's all very odd.
This man is her only living relative left, and they stare at each other like two prairie rattlers in a bucket.
To be quite honest, she didn't know what to expect upon meeting the man, but somehow this wasn't what she pictured. She had always hoped that he favored her papa, but the man looked nothing like him. She feels no warmth of familiarity. She has been foolish to expect blind acceptance from this man, just because he's a relation.
"You don't look like my father." She proclaims, eyeing him critically, breaking the tense silence.
He raises a singular brow.
"You don't look like him much either," He retorts calmly, "We have at least one thing in common."
She sniffs, wondering why she's being so damn rude. If anything she should be kissing this man's boots in hopes of letting her stay. Her pride hasn't gotten the message though.
"You're quite fortunate that you don't favor my brother, he wasn't the prettiest daisy in the flower patch." The strange man says with a grin.
Maka tries to smile in return but fails. Insulting her dead father wasn't the best way to start in her opinion.
"Your eyes though, are just like Kami's, she used to glare at me like that. And it's enough to make a full-grown man cry," He says fondly.
Maka sucks in a lung full of air, her mind spinning at the mention of that name. The air in the room is pregnant with an unsettling silence. "You knew my mother?" She questions cautiously, scaning his face for hints of deceit. He grimaces a half smile, running his hands through his silvered tresses, the action so much like Soul that it unnerves her.
He sighs heavily before answering. "I had the wonderful pleasure and pain of knowing them both. The three of us shared a childhood together. Although our upbringing was not a good or loving one."
Maka leans forward, the wound on her arm and the lacing pain almost forgotten in the light of this news. A torrent of questions threatens to burst from her, some pressing, some frivolous, but in the end, frivolity prevails.
"Will you tell me more about them? I know so little about my own family." She asks, trying to keep the pitiful edge of hope from her voice and failing miserably.
"I will, in time. There's no rush to talk of the past right now." He says slowly.
Maka's heart thuds painfully in her chest. Time. Time wasn't something she wasn't guaranteed right now. Not with wolf madness possibly coursing through her veins.
She bites her lip and remains still and voiceless. Her uncle seems the type who wouldn't be swayed, no matter how much she begged or pleaded for answers.
He may hold the information that she seeks, but she won't beg, not from him, not from anyone. Not for anything.
"Why are you here?" He asks abruptly, like he is tired of the conversation. "Are you running from something?"
"Aren't we all? There's no rush to speak of the past right now." She replies tight-lipped, echoing his own words back to him.
He wants to keep his secrets, well he could keep them, and she would keep hers. She would play his game for now. BlackStar had taught her how to play poker, how hold her cards close and not show her hand right away. It was all about reading the other player. Her uncle was a hard one to read.
"That's if I decide to let you stay long enough," Stiens says quietly, causing her eyes to snap to his. "Tell me why you should stay? Why I shouldn't put you on a train for the nearest harbor and send you back home?"
In her head, she had rehearsed so many times what to say at this very moment. The moment of truth. The deciding of her place here. Now though, with her arm and head throbbing in unison, and this strange man staring so intently at her, only one word falls from her mouth. "Love."
A shadow darkens his features, pronouncing the sharp angles of his jaw. "I have a rule about that," He grunts.
Maka shakes her head harshly, making the room spin for a splitting second. "Not like that." She says firmly, pushing her unsaid emotions for Soul to the side. "I know all about your rule, and it has nothing to do with it."
He looks at her with folded arms and raised eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.
"Love for this land, for the earth. Love for the people here, the people who have become my family and friends." She says quietly. "Love of the endless Texas sky, that holds more colors than I even knew existed. For the sound of katydids and bullfrogs in the summer time. For nights full of fireflies and blue bonnets, lost in a seas of blue-green buffalo grass." She gasps and forcefully holds his gaze, otherwise, she may cry thinking of all she has to lose leaving here.
Stein is quiet for a spell, considering her with a calculating look before he finally speaks. "Soul tells me that you are a good and dependable worker."
Maka feels her ears warming at the blatant compliment from her usually grumpy cowboy. She forcefully pushes those feelings back down, her face placid as the lake on a clear day. She would not let this keen man search her face or her heart. "I will continue to work hard if you let me stay." She promises.
"Can you survive, though?" He challenges. "The West is a long way from polite society and ballrooms. There are many dangers here, as you can see," He says, indicating to her bandaged arm.
"It's only a scratch, I'll be back on my feet in no time," she says trying in vain to keep the wobble from her voice. It was obviously a lie, but his eyes flash like varnished coins behind his spectacles.
"Soul says that he trusts you, with his own life even. The burning question though isn't why he trusts you, but should he? Can you give me a reason why I should also give you this benefit of the doubt? Not just with him, but with everyone on this ranch."
"I've risked life and limb on more than one occasion for this ranch. You can ask anyone to verify."
"You're bravery isn't lacking, but I need more than that." He retorts, seemingly unimpressed.
Maka pauses, a cold sense of dread forming in her chest, her next words suffocating her.
"I have killed." She whispers hoarsely, the act of saying it out loud incredibly painful.
That day seemed so far away at times like it had been someone else who had pulled the trigger, ending that nameless man's life. And sometimes she could still smell the gunpowder, taste the copper tinge of death, and feel the warm crimson spray of his life's blood. She hadn't spoken of that day, not since she had cried her eyes out in Soul's tent that night. Although it was never spoken, she never forgot it.
"I killed a man. He would have killed Justin if not." She says, her eyes feeling tight at the corners. This gives Stein ample pause. He almost looks surprised, but he quickly masks it.
"And how did you feel about that, taking the life of another?"
"It haunts me still sometimes. I see his face in my dreams sometimes." She admits honestly, the horror of that day becoming raw once more in her memory. Stein nods as if he understands this, and she can't be sure, but she has the feeling that this man has seen a lot of bloodshed in his years.
"So you regret it then?" He asks. There is no judgment in his voice.
"No." She says firmly, almost ferociously. "No, I would do it again, to protect my family."
Stein doesn't bother to hide his smile this time, and Maka feels this is the first genuine thing she has witnessed from him.
"Your family huh?" He nods curtly and stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I've heard everything I need to hear for now."
Maka's heart drums in her chest, keeping tempo with the throbbing of her maimed arm.
"I will let you stay. For now," he warns. I will give you a few months here, think of it as a trial run."
Maka heaves a heavy sigh of relief, but it's short-lived as her uncle holds up his hand, stopping her from speaking. "Do not be so hopeful yet. I will be watching you, closely. If I see any sign of trouble I will send you back. I too, have a family to protect."
She nods. "Your terms are fair, uncle. I won't disappoint."
With a snort he turns and leaves, closing the door being him without a word.
The man is rude, his personality abrasive. He's quite intolerable, and she understands a little better now why her papa had been at odds with his brother for half of their lifetime. But he had given her a chance. A chance to prove herself. She sags back against the bed in relief and exhaustion. Her mind wandering in fragments, her eyes wearily closing, she accepts that her time here always had a limit. She wouldn't think of that though, or the madness running through her veins. She would count this her victory, and tomorrow she would worry about the rest.
An odd sound causes her to open her bleary eyes. She wonders half awake if she was just dreaming. There is a bang and a quiet curse, her eyes flying to her window. Tad, red hair wild, stuck with bits of rose brambles, opens her window, his ruddy face glowing as he catches sight of her.
"Oi Maka, I'm coming in." He whisper shouts, as he precariously sways on his feet, half of him hanging on the window ledge.
"What on earth?! What are you doing?! That's dangerous!" Maka shrills stumbling from her bed in her haste to reach him.
He bears a strong resemblance to a little Robin, cheerful and red, perched on the sill. "I'm here to see you of course." He says, once more failing to keep his voice low.
With her good arm, she helps the boy into her room. How he climbed onto the roof with his arm still in a sling she didn't know, but she was grateful he hadn't broken anything else in his recklessness.
"Why did you come through the Window Tadpole, and what's with the whispering?" She asks pulling a twig from his hair affectionately.
"I'm here scouting." He replies, his voice taking a hushed conspiratorial tone. "What did he say? Is he letting you stay?"
"Well, yes, but-" the boy interrupts her with a loud whoop, shaking his fist in the air in triumph. He just as quickly slaps a hand over his mouth, his wide eyes going to the closed door. When her uncle doesn't reappear and Tad visibly relaxes, Maka can't help but huff out a laugh.
Tad grins sheepishly up at her. "We couldn't wait a minute longer. We was all worried."
"We?" She inquires, her laughter stopping abruptly. Tad pivots and launches his small form forward and out the window, nearly giving her a heart attack in the process. He lets out a high-pitched whistle and throws his thumb up. From down below there is a quiet buzz, louder than the wind, but still subtle. Curious, Maka pops her head out. Underneath her window, a small group of people are quietly celebrating. Tubaki, Black Star, and other faces she has worked alongside and grown to adore, they're all there. Waiting to hear her fate.
Black Star grins and whacks a few people on the backs, Tsubaki has happy tears in her eyes, and the others all holler as quietly as possible. Justin stands in the middle, he looks up at her, his face alight with a smile, his green eyes unusually bright in the fading afternoon light. She returns his smile, and waves to everyone below.
Soul isn't in the crowd, but she sees a lone figure leaning against the barn, his face shrouded in the shade of his black stetson hat. He was waiting too.
Her heart feels full to bursting as Tad wraps his arm around her in a careful hug, both of them down to one arm. He buries his face in her shoulder, unexpected salty tears soaking into her night clothes. "We love you so much. I was so scared. You can't ever leave us, OK?"The boy pleads, his little body shaking in her embrace. She curbs the hot sting of tears in her own eyes at his words. "I'm here, shh, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." She tries to soothe him, but the lies stick in her throat, burning like the pain in her wounded arm, painful like the sharp stab in her heart. The unknown is so much worse than anything. She can't make promises she may not be able to keep, to this little boy who clings so helplessly to her, and to the people outside who have grown to cherish her. She owes it to them to try though. She will live. She will stay for them. A rush of warmth and determination envelops her. She is loved here, accepted. She will fight like hell, anyone or anything, to keep her family.
No matter what is in her way or in her blood.
author's note:
Howdy! It's been awhile friends.
Life has been rather chaotic this year for me, with the farm taking up all my time. Nature in all her wild beauty has been trying her best to make my work harder; record setting heat waves, storms with high winds, hail, and flooding. And don't even get me started on the invasion of tomato horn-worms this spring! Still, there's nothing more rewarding than farming and harvesting the crops at the end of the season 3. Now with things winding down for the year, with only pumpkins and broom corn to pick, I've had more time to write again! Thank you to everyone who has stuck around, been supportive, and given me words of encouragement during this season. Y'all are the reason I continue to write!
- Much love Sammy.