The mare I’d taken from GloryLand was spent. I left her behind and instead took the horse of one of the men who Ms. Willing shot. They wouldn’t be missing it.

When we arrived at Tom’s sister, Sheila’s place, we were thoroughly worn out.

Sheila’s place was small, and hectic, but it was a happy home, with kids running in and out and around. When we dismounted, we didn’t even make it to the front door when Jacoby ran and threw himself at Jon.

“Pa!” he cried. His voice was pure joy, and he wrapped his little body around Jon and it would have taken a crowbar to peel him away. “Pa!” he said over and over.

The grin that spread over Jon’s face was unlike any I’d ever witnessed and I realized that maybe for the first time since I’d known my lover, he was content. Happy, joyously so, but also content. He knelt down as he caressed the back of the boy’s dark hair and made comforting “sh,” sounds into his ear. “Yes. It’s me. It’s me. We are going to be okay,” Jon murmered.

I caught Lindsey watching with tears in her eyes, and I myself wore a dopey grin.

My heart was full in a way that I didn’t think was possible for someone like me. Jon was alive. He was happy. He had his son and his life and he had me and I had him and everything was going to be well.

Jacoby wiped his nose on the back of his arm and his tears dried. He smiled in such a way that the apples of his cheeks almost covered his eyes, and he pulled us to the house by our hands. “It’s so great here! I don’t have to do any work. All I had to do was help Michael, that’s that boy over there,” he jerked his thumb toward a blonde boy about the same size as him. “I helped him with his chores and then we just got to play and play and eat until we were plum filled up.”

The way his face was bright with happiness over these basic thing...it broke my heart to think of what his life must have been like after he’d been kidnapped and forced to be a servant to Malachi.

At that moment I would have killed Malachi all over again given the chance. I didn’t understand how it took Jon so long—years—to find out his boy was so close. Why he wasn’t able to get him right away.

I’d asked Jon as much, in a very careful manner, on the ride back. He said there’d been a dark magic involved. A cloaking magic caste to keep Malachi’s whereabouts a secret, as well as a spell on him—something to keep him from seeing and knowing what was right in front of him. The spell had peeled away once he’d commissioned work from Abeya. Once it was gone and he’d had the skin of the man who’d wronged him, it had only taken him a few weeks to get the justice he craved. He’d used his disguise to find out information on where his boy was taken, and also to clean up our town in a way I never could.

I wonder if it is still a power he possesses.  The thought tickled my mind and I made a note to ask him about it. Later, though. I wouldn’t dare risk tainting the happiness that we felt at that moment.

We followed Jacoby into the house where Tom’s sister was busy behind the stove. There was a baby in a play pen and a toddler pulling at the long skirt of her dress. Her expression was dreamy, with soft eyes, and the soft lines around her eyes made her pretty face appear to always be in deep thought.

She jumped as we banged into the kitchen.

“Goodness!” she said. “Excuse me. I was just daydreaming.”

“Sorry for startling you,” I said. “We are just here to pick up Jacoby.”

“Goodness no. You have to stay and eat.” Sheila took a hard look at our posse of three. Her eyes flicked over Lindsey Willing, but if the woman’s bright purple dress, deep slice of cleavage, and wide bustle scandalized the good housewife and mother, then she hid it well. “You all look like you could use a good scrubbing and a good sleep. I won’t hear of letting you leave my home in the shape you are in. Bart will be back late this evening and I always cook him a big meal anyway after he has been gone. And the barn might not be the most comfortable thing, but we keep some mattresses put up for workers and the like. I’m sure they will suit you just fine. I’m sorry I can’t offer you something more proper, but as you probably guessed, our house and the beds herein are pretty full. She smiled.

“That sounds right perfect,” Jon said, surprising me. I’d been sure he’d want to grab his son and go, at least as eager for home as I was.

But the scent of whatever savory stew Shelia was stirring was heavy and tempting and I found my mouth watering. “Yeah. I reckon we can stay.”

“Can I help you with anything?” Ms. Willing asked.

Sheila smiled. “I reckon I have it about ready. Why don’t y’all just round up the kids and make them wash up. I like to get them fed first, before Bart gets home, so they can play outside while he rests and enjoys his supper. We can all eat together at the table. Then I’ll show you where you are staying.” She picked up the chubby toddler who was still clinging to her leg, and bounced him on her hip as she spoke.

Lindsey nodded, and we followed her out the door to wrangle the gang of children.

***

THAT NIGHT, WITH A full belly and a straw mattress, I slept the sleep of the dead. We awoke early the next morning, thanked Sheila, and headed home.

The sun was big and orange as it rose over the horizon. Red Soot Mountain loomed in the distance and I wondered if now that Abeya was dead and gone, if other withes would return. If not, I wondered what that meant for the mountain...

When we came into town, I took Lindsey to find a place to board. Jon took Jacoby and headed toward our home.

Lindsey and I dismounted outside the Rusty Nail. I was surprised inside to find not Cheryl behind the counter, but Ms. Camden.

“Cheryl is home with that baby of hers,” she said.

I’d completely forgotten about the infant witch whom Cheryl had saved.

“Of course, I don’t know what she is thinking she is going to do. Anybody with two eyes can see that ain’t a human child. That infant is a witch just as sure as I am an old lady. That red hair and yellow-golden eyes. If you ask me, Cheryl is asking for trouble.”

Fire brewed in my belly, because while I’d had said almost as much on the day she’d taken the child, Cheryl was my friend. And loose tongues had a way of getting out of hand and leading to danger in GloryLand. “You’d do well to keep that thought to yourself, Ms. Camden, lest someone think you are suggesting that Cheryl let the baby die on that mountain alone.”

“What do you mean?” The old lady’s face scrunched.

“I mean that baby was the last witch alive on Red Soot. What would you have had Cheryl do? You know she has a soft heart for children.”

Ms. Camden shook her head. “I don’t know, dear. That babe is really the last?”

“The last on the mountain anyway.”

Ms Camden appeared to think this over. “I reckon you are right—Cheryl didn’t have much of a choice then.” She sighed. “I think I might have said some things that need fixing.”

I wondered to whom she’d spread her gossip, but I didn’t ask.

“Anyway, you asked where she was, she is at home. That rock-brained deputy is probably still there with her. He was following her around mooning over her and that devil—I mean that baby.”

“Is Jenny here?”  I was already walking to the stairs as I spoke. Lindsey was on my heels.

“Why? You got a new whore for her?” Ms. Camden’s beady eyes narrowed on Lindsey. “Because that is all we need, lord help us.”

“Actually, Ms. Camden, this is Lindsey Willing. She is going to be my new nanny. She is just looking for a place to stay until I can get her set up near my house.”

“Your nanny?” her eyes flicked to my mid-section. “I didn’t know you were expecting! Out of wedlock? Oh pish—listen to me being old fashioned! Congratulations!”

“I’m not pregnant.” My voice was flat.

Ms. Camden’s eye widened. “Well why do you need a nanny?”

Instead of offering her more fodder for her gossip mill, I simply smiled and continued to the stairs with Lindsey on my heels. Lindsey grinned at the old woman, then wiggled her fingers to her before we disappeared to the second story.

***

TWO MONTHS LATER.

The hog roasted over the spicket, almost ready to eat. The tangy smell of succulent meat made my belly churn with anticipation. We’d sat a long piece of plywood over three saw horses and then pulled hay bales around as chairs.

Everyone was here for a feast of pig meat and potatoes. Sheila had brought a cake and Cheryl had brought whiskey.

I never in a million years would have imagined this as my life. Tom and Cheryl, still not saying they were a couple, sat with their heads together, cooing at the red headed baby in Cheryl’s lap. Sheila and Bart looked as if they may drop off to dreamland at any moment, but I guess that came with the territory of having nine kids and being pregnant.

Jon sat next to me, with Jacoby between us. He’d been smiling a lot more lately. Sheila and Bart’s kids were dispersed throughout the group, talking loudly and laughing, as we all eagerly awaited our meal.

Lindsey sat nearby, her arms draped around the small boned boy who sat next to her. He had her fair hair and eyes, as well as her upturned nose. Where Lindsey always seemed to be about to break into laughter, her son was a serious child, though he was the reason for this celebration. Lincoln had arrived the day before and was staying with Lindsey, his mother, in the house she rented near the edge of town from Madame Jenny. When we’d visited the old Madame in her upstairs brothel, I’d thought it was to get a temporary room for Lindsey. It turned out the old Madam had her fingers in quite a few money making pots—and she owned a house she rented (though she held the property under a male pseudonym.)

The joy was evident in Lindsey’s painted lips, which spread wide as she constantly touched her son, as if she couldn’t believe that he was really next to her.

I was glad for her—she deserved happiness. She’d turned out to be a great nanny, too.

“Pa,” Jacoby turned to Jon. “I want to spend the night with Michael. He said his mama will make us pancakes and that we can play hide-and-go-seek all day because his Pa is home so he won’t have to do chores.”

Concern lined Jon’s face. He’d struggled to let Jacoby from his sight since we’d returned. And rightly so. I understood the compulsion to keep his son close—but Jacoby deserved the right to live like a little boy should. He’d been through more hell than any of us. With the exception of the occasional night terror and sleeping in between Jon and me, he’d adjusted well to normal life quite well.

I could see the word no forming on Jon’s lips. I touched his arm. “It would be good for him to do this very normal thing,” I said softly. “Sheila and Bart are good people and are more than capable.”

Jon’s face grew tight.

“Please Pa?” Jacoby stuck out his bottom lip.

Jon let out a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Woo-hoo! I have to go tell Michael!” He slid backwards from the hay bale and took off like a lightning bolt through the yard to find Michael.

“And,” I added, “this will give us some much needed alone time.” I rubbed his thigh under the table. A terror stricken child in the bed had quelled our usual sexy-time fun.

Jon smirked. “Oh yes. I have something in mind that I think you’ll like...Little Wolf.” He used his pet name for me.

My stomach grew tight with anticipation. “Oh really?  I can’t wait.”