Chapter One

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her suspicions. She was being followed. Hastening her pace, Samantha made her way down the boardwalk toward the mercantile. Keeping her eyes on the wooden boards at her feet, she avoided meeting the gaze of anyone she passed. Samantha was quite used to going unnoticed and that's just the way she preferred it.

For two and a half years, Samantha had been running. Running from the man who had murdered her father. Running across Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas from the man who had vowed he would find her—and have her.

The law had not aided her. They were all too afraid of the well-known outlaw Clinton Matthews. He had quite a reputation—and a long reach. Several times, Samantha had been near capture and always she had managed to slip away unharmed. She had hope that Clinton Matthews would give up his search—it had been five long months that she'd been living peacefully in this small Oklahoma town with no sign of him.

Slipping into the mercantile, Samantha attempted to stick to the shadows and hide herself from her pursuer among the hanging baskets of herbs. No such luck.

"Samantha. Why on earth did you not stop when I called your name?" Judith Channing wife of the preacher, and quite renowned town gossip, snapped as she came to a stop beside Samantha. She fussed with the graying dark hair that had slipping loose from her bonnet. "You were practically running down main street like some common hoodlum."

Samantha forced an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you. I was lost in thought."

Judith seemed a bit unconvinced but shrugged. "Well, no matter, I have your attention now."

"I was actually in a hurry," Samantha lied, attempting to step around the thin wisp of a woman.

"Nonsense, this won't take long." Those small brown eyes glared at her over Judith's beak-like nose. "I am concerned for you, Samantha dear."

Samantha adjusted the empty basket she carried and shook her head. When she and Athena had stumbled into this dusty town five months ago, they had both been weak, starving, and so very tired of running. After spending the first couple of nights sleeping in an alley and begging for food, it hadn't been the preacher and his wife who had shown concern and helped them—no, it had been the saloon owner Johnathon and his wife Barbara. They had put Athena up at the livery with proper feed and care. They had taken Samantha in without question, given her a home and a job at the saloon, and made her feel the first glimpses of safety and security that she had felt in a long time.

Samantha had learned what kind of woman Judith Channing was then and she knew the woman had no real concern for her—she simply wanted to put her pointy nose in business that it did not belong in.

"I'm doing well, Judith. There's no reason to be concerned for me."

With a click of her tongue and a tilt of her head, Judith had Samantha taking a step back and averting her gaze. "I believe there is. I pride myself in knowing the comings and goings of this town, and yet, you refuse to let anyone know anything about yourself. You're living with those sinners in their saloon where fornication, gambling and alcohol all flow freely. I want to help you save yourself from that life...."

Samantha's grip on the basket tightened. Her jaw clenched so tightly, she feared that the entire mercantile—which had grown quiet during Judith's plea—would hear it popping. She rose to her full height, standing several inches taller than the preacher's wife, and squared her shoulders. "The Morgan's are wonderful people, Judith, and the only ones in this town who seemed to care about a young woman starving to death on their streets. My life, my business, is my own and I share it with those I trust—that list does not include you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to be getting back to the den of sin I call home."

With that, Samantha strode from the mercantile and did not pause for breath until she walked into the back door of the saloon and came to rest in the storage room. Her hands were shaking as she dropped the basket and covered her face. She knew what most in this town thought of her—and that was largely her own fault. She had avoided making friends or sharing anything personal about herself. The less anyone knew—the better. If Clinton Matthews came here looking for her, he had proven he would hurt those she cared about to get to her—and caring about people made it harder when you had to run.

Even with the Morgan's, her only friends in this town, she kept a wall up. They knew her name was Samantha and she was twenty-one years old and alone in the world other than a horse she loved dearly—that was all.

Despite her best efforts to hold it back, a sob escaped her throat. Samantha had never allowed herself to fall apart—she'd never had time. The longer she stayed still in this town, the closer she got to believing she may have found peace, the harder it got to push her feelings aside.

"Samantha?" Barbara Morgan's voice interrupted her hurt. "Oh, honey, what's wrong?"

Samantha took a deep, steadying breath, swallowed down her pain and pulled her hands from her face. "It's nothing. I'm fine," she assured the other woman with the ghost of a forced smile.

Barbara shook her head, her kind blue eyes softening. "We've never pushed you to open up to us, Samantha, but you know you can, don't you?"

Her heart broke a bit but Samantha forced herself to nod. "I'm okay. I promise."

Barbara sighed and pulled Samantha into a hug. For a moment, Samantha let herself lean into the embrace. Barbara was a full-bodied woman. Her voice was raspy from years of smoking, her face heavily-lined. She was not a proper lady, having made a living pleasing men before meeting her husband Johnathon twenty years ago and running saloons everyday since then. But Barbara was a warm, kind, and caring soul and one of the best people that Samantha had ever met.

It made it so hard to keep the wall up around herself.

When Barbara pulled away, her eyes went to Samantha's empty basket on the floor. "Where are the things you were getting?"

With a sigh, Samantha picked up her basket. "I decided to shop later."

Barbara let out a snort. "Ms. Holy and Righteous was there, wasn't she?"

Samantha walked to the desk and sat her basket upon the ledgers she was in charge of organizing. "Yes."

"And is that why I found you in tears?"

"Of course not," Samantha replied honestly. "She's hardly worth crying over."

"Good." Barbara went to the door that led up the staircase to the apartment that Samantha had been living in with the Morgan's and calling home. "Now, come on upstairs. Johnathon and I have something rather important we need to discuss with you."

Something in Barbara's voice gave Samantha pause and told her she was not going to like the discussion that was about to take place. She prayed she wasn't about to lose her safe haven.

Once she was sitting at the table in the small kitchen, Barbara spared a glance at Johnathon as if waiting for the man to speak. He ran his hand over his rather large mustache and adjusted his glasses. "Barbara and I have some news to share with you. Perhaps we should have shared it sooner, but we weren't certain of our decision until today."

Folding her trembling hands in her lap, Samantha forced herself to meet his gaze. "What news?"

Silence greeted her question. A very heavy silence. The ticking of the clock seemed to echo in the thick air. Finally, Barbara cleared her throat. "We have sold the saloon, sweetheart. We will be leaving on the train tomorrow. We are moving back east. Our son lives there and he recently got married and his wife is expecting our first grandchild. We want to be close to our family."

Samantha took a moment to process that information. She couldn't blame the Morgan's for wanting to live near their family—if she had any family left in the world, she would want to be near them. But leaving tomorrow? And selling the saloon? What was going to happen to her? They certainly hadn't given her much warning or any real time to find a place to stay.... She could get a room at the hotel but her money would eventually run out—what was there for her to do in this town to make money other than keeping books and sweeping floors here in the saloon?

"I believe you may have blurted all that out a bit too quickly," Johnathon scolded his wife as he got to his feet, filled a glass with water from the pitcher and placed it on the table in front of Samantha.

"Well, I apologize, but you didn't seem to be in any hurry and I thought it best to get it all out of the way quickly," Barbara grumbled.

Samantha was careful to hold back her storm of emotions. "I suppose I'll have to move into the hotel. I thank you all for everything you've done for me..."

Barbara shook her head, cutting Samantha off. "Don't be foolish! We wouldn't simply toss you on the street. Before we agreed to sell, we had several meetings with the man purchasing the saloon and we ensured that he would honor our wishes when it came to you. You will be keeping your job here. He knows what your duties are and we've assured him that you do them well. You will be making ten extra dollars a month to help see that both you and Athena are fed. You will have to move into a room at the saloon since the new owner will be calling this apartment home."

Another rambling mass of information for Samantha to attempt to take in at once. Barbara was well-known for those. After several deep, steadying breaths, Samantha began to truly process Barbara's words and collect her own thoughts. She was about to lose the only two friends that she had left in the world—and while they clearly had done all they could to ensure she would be taken care off, that didn't change the fact that Samantha was once again going to be all alone.

"Who is the new owner?" she finally managed to ask, her voice strained.

"His name is Thomas Williamson," Johnathon replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "He seems a decent man and one that will honor our wishes when it comes to you and this saloon. The other women will be notified today as well and they'll be readying a room at the end of the hall upstairs that will be yours."

Samantha winced. The serving girls—that served more than just drinks. While Samantha tried not to judge them harshly for their professions, she knew it was something she herself could never do. And those women weren't friendly with her—though that had probably been due more to her own avoidance of their company than anything else. She didn't avoid them because of what they were—she avoided them simply because she tended to avoid everyone.

"Please don't be angry with us, Samantha," Barbara pleaded, her jaw trembling slightly. "While we may not know the details, we know that your life had hit a rough patch before bringing you here. You've been here nearly half a year and I think this town would make a good home for you. We did what we could to see that you would have a roof over your head and money in your pocket even after we've left town."

Samantha forced a smile to her face and swallowed her sadness and desperation. "I'm not angry at either of you. You've done more for me in the last five months than anyone else had in two years. Go. Be with your son and your grandchild. Thanks to you, I will be just fine here and I'll make sure your saloon is well taken care of."

"Wonderful!" Barbara tapped her hand on the table and shoved herself to her feet. "I have some packing to tend to and I'm certain you have work to be getting to. We will have one last dinner together tonight and in the morning we'll introduce you to Thomas Williamson before we catch our stagecoach."

That night as Samantha lay wide awake upon her bed, she could not seem to turn her brain off. Warning bells were ringing in her mind. Her every instinct was telling her that Barbara and Johnathon leaving was going to throw her life into turmoil once again—Samantha simply didn't know how and, most importantly, she had no idea what to do about it.

A/N: If life goes according to plan, this story will be getting regular updates now! At least every other day or so! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all are staying healthy, safe, and sane during this difficult time for our entire world.