Soul of a Crow (46 page)

“We won't be far behind,” Sawyer promised. “The winter will pass quickly.”

Malcolm banged inside the front door and then into the bedroom. He was visibly out of breath.

“Hold up, boy, what's got you worked up?”

“Quade just rode in,” Malcolm answered his brother. “An' he brung roses for Mrs. Rebecca. Said he found 'em blooming on the prairie.”

Boyd covered his face with both hands. Though pain raked his throat, he said only, “It's for the best.”

At last he lifted his gaze to Malcolm and his dark eyes burned with determination. He said, “Let's go north, shall we?”

_ _ _

The story continues in
Grace of a Hawk
, coming in 2017

Acknowledgments

The creation of a book is an intricate process that is never the solitary work of the writer. I want to thank those of you who contributed to the writing of this book, whether consciously or not, including the incredible musicians, primarily in the stringband and bluegrass genres, whose artistry inspired me during all those late nights (my preferred writing time), and the readers whose spirited emails requesting more about Lorie and Sawyer, Boyd and Malcolm, and of course Whistler, gave me even more reason to continue their journey. I truly love these characters; when the series is complete I will go into a mourning of sorts, likened best perhaps to the way you feel when your child experiences newfound independence in any capacity, whether heading to nursery school or embarking upon his or her own marriage, when you think, I've done my best and I can't look back now.

My husband and three girls, of course, deserve credit for their patience and encouragement, for sharing me with my computer and bearing with me when I can't seem to stop talking about the nineteenth century and all its delectable charms and fascinating horrors; for my middle daughter running inside and shouting, “Mom, come see this sunset! I bet you could write it into your book!” and for my husband, who simply grins when people ask if he's read the “love scenes.”

I must thank my publisher, Michelle Halket, for her ideas and suggestions, which have made
Soul of a Crow
into the book it is today. I enjoy her company tremendously, and cannot wait to see where this road we're on will take us—but then, the unexpected is half the fun of any journey. (The journey is the thing, of course).

And finally to my readers—thank you for letting me know how much you've loved reading about Lorie and her menfolk—most especially my dear friend/reader Shannon Daniels, who loves Malcolm as much as I do. And thanks to all the readers who have found Lorie courageous and inspiring, how you've taken it upon yourself to learn more about the realities of prostitution in the nineteenth century. I believe there is a story in every soul on this earth—around every curve in the road and in every stalk of grass growing over the ancient tracks of wagon wheels long since worn away, in the hues of each sunset and every word ever spoken that remains hovering in the air about us—if we only know how to hear them. It is my privilege to tell even a few of those stories–I've compared it to a kind of haunting, but one that I welcome, wholeheartedly. And so thank you for reading; I promise to keep writing.