Chapter Seven

          Three days passed before Samantha's head stopped spinning and aching. She knew that the blow she'd taken during her fall had been a bad one and it was nothing more than luck that she still had all her wits about her—she'd heard that head injuries could sometimes do strange things to people.

          After slipping into her clean black skirt and red blouse, Samantha styled her wild red curls the best she could upon her head and left the hotel. The doctor had given her two options for work in the town that wouldn't involve being near the saloon and she was going to take those opportunities. Hackney was going to be home—Samantha was determined to finally put down roots and make a new life for herself. Two and a half years of running had been long enough.

          As she made her way down the boardwalk toward the doctor's two story house that also served as his office, Samantha attempted to look at the farm and cattle town through fresh eyes. Eyes that weren't scanning for dangers or watching for evil men lurking in shadows and behind corners.

          Hackney wasn't so bad, she supposed. It was home to three saloons—though only the Hackney Saloon and Brothel served women as well as alcohol and it was the more popular drinking establishment because of that. There was a schoolhouse upon a hill behind a small sawmill. There was the hotel of course, but also a general store, a bakery, community center, butcher, tailor shop, laundry service, bath house, farrier, blacksmith, bank, two hotels, two diners, and a dry goods store.  The church was just outside of town but plenty close enough to hear the bells ring bright and early every Sunday morning.

          Down by the train station and post office stood several barns and corrals that filled the air with the scent of cattle twice a year when the auctions and cattle sales were held.

          Chickens and dogs milled around the town while Children laughed as they headed up the hill toward the white schoolhouse with their lunchboxes in hand. Men and women bustled up and down the street going about their days while wagons and folks on horseback splashed mud upon the edges of the boardwalk.

          Samantha worked hard to meet any gaze sent her way and return any smile or friendly greeting. She'd been living so long keeping everyone at arm's length that it would take some time for her to let those walls back down. She could remember the woman she'd once been—someone vibrant and happy and full of life. She'd been quick to laugh and strike up conversation. Clinton Matthews had done away with that woman when he had shot her papa in the head and sent her on the run. Samantha wanted desperately to be that way again.

          Piano music coming from across the street had Samantha glancing toward the Hackney Saloon and Brothel. They weren't doing much business this early on a Wednesday morning but she could tell by the tune playing that Elmer Poke was sitting at the piano. An image of the kind colored man's face entered Samantha's mind. He was quiet and didn't say much but he could play a piano better than anyone Samantha had ever heard.

          She thought of Caroline, Eleanor, and the other women still working there with Thomas Williamson and his temper. She had begged Caroline and Eleanor to quit the saloon but they had declined. Caroline said all she'd been her whole life was a whore and she didn't know how to be anything different—and she was getting too old to make a new start at a new brothel somewhere else. Eleanor had said no one in this town would look her in the eye, walk near her on the street, or sit at a table close to her in the diners—she wasn't permitted to enter the church or the community center due to her line of work. What else was there for her to do in Hackney other than what she had always done?

           It made Samantha sad to know that people could be so cruel to one another—but it wasn't surprising. She'd certainly had experience with cruelty....

          Shaking her head, she forced that thought from her mind. Clinton Matthews had stolen enough of her life—she wouldn't give him any more time.

          Samantha reached the docs and walked in the front door. The downstairs held an exam room, surgical room, recovery room and a store front where the doctor sold a wide range of medicines, ointments, and tinctures to help folks on their path to wellness.

          Doctor Reynold's nephew, who was studying to become a doctor under his uncle, worked the apothecary counter most days and he was there today. A smile split his freckled cheeks when she entered. "Good morning, Miss Samantha."

          "Good morning, Lewis."

          "You look much more rested today than you did yesterday. How are you feeling? Any headache?"

          Samantha returned his smile, the once familiar expression feeling somewhat strange upon her face. "I feel quite well this morning. The headache seems to have gone away."

          "That's real good." Lewis' cheeks colored as he fussed with several bottles in front of him. "I was worried about you."

          Samantha studied the nineteen-year old. He was growing into a handsome man with boyish features that included dimpled cheeks, freckles and sparkling brown eyes. His reddish brown hair was always slicked back neatly upon his head with pomade and he dressed quite smartly in tailored suits. She had noticed the way he blushed and stuttered and fretted around her the last few days and while she was flattered, she couldn't return his interest.

          Lewis reminded her far too much of her murdered brother. A man who had become lost in demons during his final months but had once been a shy, stuttering, boyishly handsome young man and her best friend. It made looking at the doctor's nephew nearly painful at times. She knew he was leaving soon to study at a university and Samantha would be lying if she said she wasn't grateful.

          "Is the doc around?" she asked, eager to turn the subject away from Lewis' worry for her. "I was hoping to speak with him."

          It was clear that Lewis noticed her change of topic and lack of response. His face fell a bit and Samantha swallowed hard. She did not want to hurt the man who was clearly such a nice and gentle soul—but some things, quite simply, could not be forced and Samantha would not mislead the man.

          Lewis' smile was resigned but still friendly as he shook his head. "I'm afraid he's not, ma'am. He stepped out just a short while ago to make a few house calls. He should be back by noon or so."

          Folding her hands in front of her, Samantha tipped her head in thanks. "I'll just have to come back and speak with him then. Thank you, Lewis. And thank you for being a friendly face the last few days. I could certainly use friends to help me settle into a life here in Hackney."

          Lewis nodded his understanding even as his face colored a bit more and he put a jar on the shelf beside him. "Of course, Miss Samantha."

          Stepping back out into the mid-morning sun, Samantha glanced toward the bank clock to see that it was nearing ten. That meant the stage office would be opening. She supposed she would go there and see if Gavin Jones truly was looking for someone to work for him the way the doctor had stated.

          An approaching train filled the air with a drawn out whistle as Samantha stepped onto the stage office boardwalk. Stepping inside, her eyes went to the counter and Gavin Jones greeted her with a friendly smile as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Good morning, ma'am."

          Samantha felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as she remembered the last time she had seen Gavin Jones—it had been the night she'd been dressed as a whore. The night that she would have been raped had Zachary Marston not intervened and saved her.

          "Hello, Mr. Jones."

          "What can I do for you this morning? Were you expecting mail?"

          "No," Samantha forced a smile. "I came to speak with you, actually."

          "Just a moment, Ma'am." He turned his attention to a man who stepped into the office. Samantha stepped aside to allow the man to approach the counter. After Gavin had given him his mail and the man had bid them both a polite goodbye, Gavin returned his attention to her.

          "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

          "Please, call me Samantha," she insisted, approaching the gleaming oak counter.

          "Of course, Miss Samantha." Gavin smiled from behind the iron bars that were in place to deter any would be thieves from attempting to help themselves to the mail behind them.

          Samantha cleared her throat as she folded her hands in front of her and decided to get to the point of her visit. "I recently lost my employment, Mr. Jones, and I was told by Doctor Reynolds that you were possibly interested hiring help...."

          "Yes!" He pulled his glasses off and began to clean them with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Doctor Reynolds told me you may be coming by so I've been holding the job in hopes you'd come."

          Samantha was surprised. "You have?"

          "Yes." He slid the glasses back on his face, his brown eyes smiling. "Tim is good friends with Zachary Marston and both Zachary and the doc made it clear that you were to be taken care of...." Gavin's rambling fell silent quickly He cleared his throat as he turned his attention to shuffling a few papers in front of him.

          Samantha suspected he'd noticed the look of shock on her face and it had been what had caused him to fall silent. She was shocked. Samanatha had spent so long believing that she was alone and that there were no friendly faces that would ever help her—outside of the Morgan's of course.

          But now she was finding that she had been mistaken. Hackney was proving to contain many friendly faces. Gavin, Doctor Reynolds, Caroline, Eleanor, Lewis, Timothy, and of course Zachary. Samantha did not understand why that man seemed so determined to help her but she was not going to turn her back on that charity—she was going to take full advantage of it. Hackney could become her home....

          "If you're available for work, Miss Samantha, you could start tomorrow. I need someone to come in Wednesdays, Friday, and Saturdays to help clean and sort the mail deliveries. You would start at nine in the morning and work until five in the evening. Does that sound like someone you could do?"

Samantha felt hope flaring to life within her—it was both unfamiliar and terrifying. "Of course, Mr. Jones. That sounds wonderful."

          "Well, I'm glad, Miss Samantha. It'll be a big relief to have some help around here." Gavin checked the time on his silver pocket watch. "I'm afraid I need to get to some deliveries from the train. But I will see you tomorrow." Gavin snapped his fingers, grabbing her attention. "And I forgot to mention your pay. I can pay you fifteen dollars a month. Will that be acceptable?"

          Samantha nodded whole heartedly. "Yes, of course, Mr. Jones. That's more than acceptable." Fifteen dollars a month was far more than she thought she would receive for working only three days a week. While it would not be enough to keep herself and Athena fed and housed each month, if the doctor hired her that would probably cover those costs—and perhaps the hotel would need a maid to help part time?

          Gavin reached his arm through the bars to extend his hand. "That's a deal then, Miss Samantha. I'll see you tomorrow at nine."

          Samantha shook his hand before turning away and stepping back into the sunlight. A quick check of the bank clock showed the time to be ten minutes after ten. She still had quite a bit of time to kill before the doctor would be available. Perhaps she would saddle Athena and go for a ride?

          Just as Samantha was heading past the train station to go toward the livery, a familiar voice called out behind her. "Samantha? Stop a moment, would you?"

          Letting out a groan and attempting desperately to keep her eyes from rolling, Samantha turned to face the towns' most judgmental gossip and bully. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, Mrs. Channing."

          Judith Channing scoffed as she smoothed a hand over the graying dark hair that had slipped loose from her severe bun. "There's no need to be rude, dear. I simply want to have a conversation."

          Samantha stood straight and refused to avert her gaze as Judith Channing attempted to stare her down. Samantha was certainly not a fearless woman in any sense of the word, but she was also not a bit afraid of the preacher's wife. "After our last conversation, I would think it quite clear that I do not wish to have any more conversations with you."

          A group of women walking past, whispered and snickered as they glanced their way before hurrying on down the boardwalk. Judith Channing fussed with the lace on the edge of her bonnet as color stained her cheeks and that beak of a nose rose even higher. "Yes, well, I heard about that horrible head injury you suffered. Those can certainly impact a person's behavior long after the blow to the head occurs."

          Samantha's gaze went skyward. "I should be going..."

          "Please, I need to speak with you. God has blessed you immensely don't you see? I prayed and prayed that you would be freed from that horrible place and the Lord answered."

          Samantha nearly laughed. She had no real belief in God or the Devil. Heaven or Hell. As far as she was concerned, if there was some all-knowing, all-powerful God and He allowed such atrocities to take place in the world, then He wasn't any kind of god she wanted to know too intimately. It hadn't been prayers or gods that had removed her from that hotel and Thomas Williamson's grasp—it had been Zachary Marston.

          Samantha swiped a bit of dust from her blue sleeve and tipped her head. "You have a good day, Mrs. Channing..."

          As Samantha turned to leave, Judith's hand closed around her wrist and stopped her. "Please, I am only trying to help you. I want to extend an invitation to you, Samantha."

          Samantha pulled her arm out of the other woman's grasp but before she could speak, Judith's voice was once again assaulting her ears. "Now that you are no longer living in that den of sinners, I want to invite you to come and get yourself more involved with our church. We have a service every Sunday morning, and we also offer bible study classes for ladies twice a week."

          "I don't think I'm interested." Samantha was doing everything within her power to bite her tongue and hold her temper. Everything within her hated the woman in front of her.

          Judith tsked. "Don't be so quick to damn your soul, Samantha. Now that your living conditions have improved, you need to worry about your spirt—and your reputation."

          Samantha's brow rose. She was fed up with this woman's judgments. "Reputation?"

          "Of course. All a woman has is her reputation and you shouldn't have those ladies visiting you at your home in the hotel. And you also should be careful about being seen with Zachary Marston.." she whispered his name as if it were some dark secret.

Samantha's spine stiffened. Always the type to defend those important to her, she was quick to interrupt. "Those ladies are better women than you and Zachary Marston has been nothing but kind to me," she snapped, though kind was probably pushing the truth a bit. Yes, the man had been a hero and had gone above and beyond to help her—he had also been quite bristly at best during their interactions.

Judith shook her head. "I've known him since he was a boy, Samantha. He's a horrible sinful man. Tragic what happened to his family and there are those who think he may have had a hand in those murders...."

          A dark shadow fell over the women and Samantha quickly looked at the silhouette that had come to stand behind Judith. Even with the sunlight blinding her and that hat pulled low, shadowing his face, Samantha knew it was Zachary. "Still sticking your nose in things that don't concern you I see, Mrs. Channing. Nice to know that even after I've been gone a good five years, some things haven't changed and I can still count on knowing where to get the gossip."

          Samantha and Judith had very different reactions to that deep voice growling in the mid-morning air. Samantha felt a tremor wash down her spine that had nothing to do with fear—it was a feminine wave of pleasure that had her swallowing hard. Never in her twenty-one years had Samantha felt anything that could compare. It both shocked and confused her.

          Judith, however, did not have such a pleasurable reaction to hearing that growl. She let out a sound that could very well be compared with a squawk before spinning around quickly and wringing her gloved hands. After letting out several unintelligible stutters, Judith found her voice. "I can assure you, Mr. Marston, that I am a good Christian woman and therefore I do not gossip."

          Zachary pushed his hat back slightly and that rugged face was no longer hidden in shadow. Strong, high cheekbones, messy black stubble, dark brown eyes, and a guarded expression. Those tremors once again washed down Samantha's spine when those eyes gazed into hers.

          Zachary was quick to look away and turn his attention back to the preacher's wife. "I'm sure... and I've never killed anyone." Samantha was sure she could hear sarcasm in his tone. Had he killed people? He certainly looked like someone who knew how to kill people armed to the teeth with weapons the way he was.

          "I'll pray for your soul, Zachary Marston. Lord knows you need it. I just hope that you won't bring any further trouble or death to this town than you already have."

          Samantha saw pain flash across Zachary's rugged features. Just as quickly as that emotion showed itself it was gone and his face was once again a mask of indifference. "I'll do my best, Mrs. Channing."

          With nothing else said and without another glance in Samantha's direction Zachary strode away toward the train station.

          Judith sniffed and turned back to Samantha. "As I was saying..."

          "I have never met anyone who seems to enjoy the sound of their own voice quite as much as you, Mrs. Channing. I believe I've heard about enough of it myself. Have a good day now."

          Samantha rushed off after Zachary leaving Judith stuttering and scoffing behind her.

          "Mr. Marston!" Samantha called out, just before he could enter the warehouse beside the station. She let her gaze linger on the way his black clothes seemed to hug his solid, masculine frame from behind as Zachary came to a stop but did not turn around.

          Samantha came to a stop a few feet behind him and took a moment to catch her breath. He had been striding away quite fast and his legs were much longer than hers. "What do you need?" his voice interrupted her recovery.

          Samantha nearly laughed. Just as she'd thought to herself earlier—bristly at best. "I haven't been able to speak with you since I left the saloon. I want to thank you, Mr. Marston. I owe you a huge debt for what you've done for me."

          His broad shoulders heaved in a sigh as Zachary turned to face her. "Zachary. And, no, you don't."

          "Yes. I do," Samantha insisted. "Had you not taken it upon yourself to help me..."

          She saw his jaw tighten as the muscles twitched. "But I did and you're fine now."

          "Thank you, Zachary."

          At this the man simply grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. Samantha chewed at her lip. "I know you spent a considerable amount of money to protect both me and Athena and I want to let you know that I will find a way to repay..."

          Zachary shook his head quickly. "No, you won't. That won't be necessary."

          "But..."

          He held up his hand. "Look, I did what I did because I wanted to and because it seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't do it because I wanted anyone to feel as if they owed me anything. You should probably do as Mrs. Channing says now and keep your distance from me. Folks will talk."

          Samantha could not stop an unladylike snort at the mention of Judith Channing. "That woman is an intolerable harpy. She has been rude, judgmental, unhelpful, and unkind since I came to this town and the day I take advice from her will be the day I sign my own admission papers to the state asylum."

          She saw Zachary's eyes widen before he blinked several times. Samantha knew she'd probably said too much but she had never been the type to bite her tongue when she felt something needed to be said. It was then that a rather amazing thing happened—Zachary's lips curved in a slow, lazy smile that took away the sad lines around his brown eyes and had them lighting up as a dimple appeared in his cheek. "Well alright then."

          Samantha felt a bit of color rise in her cheeks. "Alright then."

          She saw his expression once again become guarded almost as if a solid wall had just been erected around him. Samantha knew the signs—she was quite adept at keeping a wall around herself as well, though she was finding that more difficult to do with Zachary. Mainly because something inside of her knew that she did not need one. He was confusing, yes, and he seemed so different from all she'd known for so very long, but she found herself trusting that—trusting him.

          "People will talk if you continue to speak with me, Samantha. I have a reputation." As if to reinforce his warning, she heard a group of people whispering nearby as they watched them closely and pointed in their direction.

          Samantha paused. A reputation as a killer? As a man who had something to do with the murder of his family? A murder she had never heard about until today. She saw that pain in his eyes. The sadness etched deep into his expressions and found herself feeling a kinship born from shared trauma. Zachary had not murdered his family but someone had just the same as Clinton Matthews had murdered her father.

          She squared her shoulders, throwing that group of onlookers a warning glance that had them lowering their heads and moving away. "I have never bothered myself much, or at all really, with the opinions of others."

          Zachary studied her a moment and she wondered what was going on behind those dark eyes. Did he feel the same unexplainable pull toward her that she seemed to be feeling toward him? It made no logical sense—especially given the way she had lived her life the last two and a half years keeping everyone at arms-length—but Samantha did not want Zachary at arms-length.

          "I really should be going now, Samantha."

          Before he could turn away, Samantha reached out and laid her hand over his forearm. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and her bare fingertips touched his tanned, skin. Zachary tensed. Samantha swallowed hard and removed her hand.

          "You're a good man, Zachary. Athena and I would have been lost without you. I want to thank you again. Is there anything I can do to offer you some compensation for all the help you've given me? I don't have money but is there a favor, work, anything that perhaps you might need help with?" Her father had been the type of man to take advantage of kindness and leave debts unpaid—his gambling and drinking addictions had been all he could focus on the last few years of his life. Samantha was not the same. She wanted to do something to pay Zachary back for all he had done for her.

          Zachary seemed hard in thought a moment. That tension was still quite visible in his posture as he averted his gaze and looked out at the sun, squinting into the light. Finally, after several long moments, his gaze once again found hers. "If it's that important to you, then yeah I have a job you can do. I have a farmhouse outside of town a ways. It is in bad need of repairs. I have a friend helping me with the heavy lifting outside but I'm sure the inside could use a woman's touch to ever be a home again. You help me with that and we'll call it even."

          Samantha nodded. "Of course. I would be more than happy to help you. I work three days a week for the post office and I'm hoping to get jobs at the doctors' office and the hotel but I will use all my extra time fixing up your house. When would you like me to start?"

          "I'm heading that way today with a load of supplies. You can come out, take a look, figure out what you'll need and get it ordered." Zachary studied her. "But I don't want you working yourself to the bone to pay back a debt I don't consider necessary."

          "I'm not afraid to work hard."

          "Clearly. Three jobs?"

          "I have to keep a roof over me and Athena's heads and food in our bellies," Samantha replied, feeling a bit annoyed at the need to defend her decisions. Zachary was impossible to read as he simply studied her with that same indifference. She wished he would let that wall down and smile again.

          A group of children ran by laughing loudly as they chased a ball that was bouncing down the rutted street. Samantha smiled as she watched them. She wondered how it would be to feel that carefree again. When she turned her attention back to Zachary he was quick to avert his gaze. "Athena is a nice horse," he admitted. "I've seen her in the livery a few times over the last few days."

          Pride filled her as Samantha thought of her best friend. "I've had her since she was three. She's all I have left in the world."

          Zachary appeared as if he wanted to ask a question but then he adjusted the rifle sling on his back and waved off a fly that was buzzing around them. "Go get her saddled and ready. I'm picking up a load of supplies and then we'll head out to the house."

          "I was supposed to speak with the doctor this morning...."

          Zachary nodded down the road. "I saw his cart pulling into town so he's at his office. Get your horse, speak to the doc, and I'll pick you up." With that, Zachary turned and walked away leaving Samantha thankful that he had given her an opportunity to repay the debt she owed and also confused as to why he was so bristly and what exactly had happened in his life to make him that way.