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Always an avid reader of romance fiction, Cynthia's dream of becoming a published author happened much later in life, however. "Sometimes life does not give us what we deserve and for me, it just kept setting up road blocks that deterred me from getting there right away," she admits candidly.

But it was those life lessons that transformed her into the author she is today. In order to write the kind of raw, human emotion she wanted her readers to feel, experiencing such lessons first hand made for the best teacher in the world and her first published historical romance, Wind Warrior, epitomizes every emotion possible.

Wind Warrior is a compelling historic love story that catapults its readers through a time when colonists pioneered newly discovered territories and its Native inhabitants struggled to maintain their culture, freedom and lifestyle. It is a story of desire, of an insatiable need to survive all odds, and a love so strong it conquers everything including human evil.

The heroine, Leslie Michaels, has a special gift known only to her family. She is a visionary and her dreams become haunting, filled with a stranger and a journey that denotes oncoming danger and heartache. Fate has a way of righting many of life's injustices, and for Leslie it changes her life forever. She is forced to flee into the wilderness after her loved ones are murdered and escape the villainous trapper who is hell bent on staking his claim over her. Her strong will to survive is her only companion during her journey.

That is, until she encounters the handsome war chief, Winnokin, who first came to her in her dreams. Not only does he prove her rescuer and protector, he also teaches her that tragedy can breed happiness and the passion to live and love deeply once again.

Leslie Michaels detected the immediate transformation in the stranger's eyes after she reached out and stroked the tips of her fingers slowly along the strong, angular curves of his chin and jaw. She looked for a change, some kind of reaction that told her he found her to be too bold or forward. However, his calm reserve gave away no emotion at all. She was pleased that he did not draw away from her touch or display any signs of displeasure. More than anything, she wanted to know what was going on in his mind.

Did he find her attractive? Would he want to know her more intimately? She could not believe that those thoughts were even running through her mind. By God, she thought, I'm thinking just like one of those dance hall girls always standing outside the saloon at the settlement.

She certainly was not the kind of woman to just throw herself at a man. She was generally shy and reserved, and it normally took a while before she warmed up to someone, especially a man like the one right there in front of her. .

And to think, she sighed, that his lips may just taste sweeter than sugar. She could feel her cheeks flush and patted them with her palms. This man certainly made her feel brazen. She wondered if he found her touch as pleasing as it was for her. When the moments passed with words unspoken between them, Leslie was afraid she truly overstepped her bounds.

There must be someone else in his life, a wife or betrothed, she thought. She searched his eyes to see if disinterest reflected in their depths, but he was too difficult to read. Leslie leaned back slightly and pondered if his lack of response was more out of duty or respect and not wanting to offend her.

I am such a––a fool––a stupid, crazy ninny, she chastised silently and lowered her head to hide her embarrassment. Just because I am drawn to him like a bee to honey does not mean he feels the same about me, she argued with herself. After all, we are from different cultures. Those in my world would never approve of such a union.

Leslie's heart began to pound rapidly in her chest when he moved slightly and reached out for her. She gasped faintly when he tenderly clasped her chin to raise it and gazed into her eyes. A lump caught in her throat, and she knew she could not swallow even if she tried. Joy filled her heart when she watched as his beautiful, full lips began to slowly curve into a smile.

The pleasure she felt overwhelmed her and she pressed her fingers to her lips and sighed softly. She did not know his name, where he came from, or what kind of person he was. What she did know was that she felt no fear, no apprehension, in his presence. She did not hold back and drew herself up from her squatting position to kneel before him.

His beautiful, amber eyes were captivating, and Leslie knew at that very moment that she could get lost in their depths for an eternity. She wanted nothing else. He clasped a hold of her tiny wrists and placed her right hand upon his shoulder.

She reacted instantly and did not hold back. She needed, wanted, to touch more of him and slowly ran the flat of her palm down the length of his naked chest, feeling the strength of hard muscle beneath his light copper skin. It amazed her how such a masculine man could feel as soft as a rabbit's pelt. Her eyes drifted again to the fullness of his lips, and she craved to have her own held captive by them.

He was the most handsome man she had ever seen, and even though he was Indian, it did not sway her from wanting to share something more with him. The comfort and safety she felt was far from odd, even knowing it would prove disturbing to others. Leslie dismissed all doubt and worry from her mind. She never was a person to be affected by what others thought. And she was not about to start now.

If he was an admirable man with a kind and compassionate heart, that was all she needed to know. She felt an immediate connection and shivered slightly when he reached forward to tenderly move a tendril of her hair away from her face. It seemed natural and right to rest her cheek against the palm of his hand.

His thumb glided softly against her skin, and she shivered slightly as she tilted her body to nuzzle the side of her face against the warmth of his touch. He reached his other hand to cup her face and draw her nearer.

Leslie could feel his breath caressing her skin, and she knew he was going to kiss her.

"Come. Let us ride the wind together," he whispered softly in her ear. Slowly his lips brushed across her cheek, barely touching skin, causing her body to tremble in response.

This was the moment she hoped for, and she leaned her body closer and raised her chin to meet the pressure of his lips. His powerful arms were tender as they softly folded about her until their bodies were pressed together in a heated embrace.

The loud, shrilling chatter of gray squirrels playing outside her bedroom loft window jolted Leslie from her sleep as though cold water had just been thrown upon her face, and she bolted upright, into a sitting position.

"No!" she cried softly.

She realized it was just a dream as she ran her palm softly across the spot where she could swear she still felt the warmth of the stranger's touch. Her eyes scanned every corner of her room, and her heart sank from the disappointing realization that she did indeed dream of the beautiful stranger once again. She turned and watched the humorous antics that continued outside her window.

Shoo––shoo, you two," she scolded. "Did you have to choose this very moment to wake me?" she continued as she shook her head and stretched her limbs like a contented feline.

For a moment she played back the memory of the dream that had haunted her over and over again for the past two months. When is this going to end? She wondered. What does it all mean?

It was not just this particular incident that bewildered her. For as long as she could remember, Leslie had always been taunted by such riddles. Early in her childhood, she had learned not to question her special ability to see what would happen in the very near future through her dreams.

She never feared them, because they were so very much a part of her life, and she naturally assumed every one had the same experiences in their life. That is, until she was old enough to speak and express what she saw with her parents.

Leslie was nearly seven when she finally began to understand what was happening to her, what she was born with. Her mother, Olivia, had sat her down and carefully told her of the special gift they both shared. It was a guarded secret that had been passed down for five generations by the feminine line on her mother's side.

Still, the dream she had just experienced was so different and more personal than any she had before. This dream involved her emotions. She knew this particular stranger would play a major role in her future. She just did not know what, or when, or where. Each time he entered her sleep, it became more real, and her attraction for him grew stronger. She was becoming drawn to his long, dark hair and a physique, which looked as though it had been chiseled from stone. He was a mystery for now, and she was certain it was one that would be solved sooner rather than later.

She tried to dismiss the thought of him from her mind and hummed softly as she rose from her cot and attend to her toiletry. She filled the porcelain bowl atop her small nightstand made of pine with cold water from its matching rosebud pitcher. As she washed her face, she could not rid the stranger from her mind, or the color of his skin, or the texture of his hair. Because of the way he carried himself, she knew he was a man who could be feared if the circumstance presented itself.

Who is he? Where does he live? She had so many questions rattling around inside her head that needed answers. She assumed he was a member of one of the Iroquois tribes that inhabited the area.

As confusing it all was, Leslie did not dwell on it further. For as sure as the sun was to set that very evening, she knew their paths were destined to cross, and soon. It was then and only then that she would be forced to deal with whatever cards fate had decided to deal her and it was only then that she would find her answer. Slowly she descended the makeshift ladder of pine slats that began to bow slightly in the middle from her constant use.

"Are you up yet, Papa?" she called out as she looked over her shoulder.

She expected to see him sitting at the large, wood table he constructed for them when they first arrived to the territory, from the very pine that surrounded their property.

"Yer pa ain't here, sweet thing."

Leslie could not help but shutter as she recognized the voice of Red Farmer. He moved into her view with a look of hunger in his eyes as he watched her descend the final rungs of the ladder.

"Mind telling me what you're doing here?" She glared with as much hatred as she could muster.

Red cocked an eyebrow at her boldness and licked the drool from his lower lip.

"Why don't I just shows ya?" he sneered as he took a step forward.

Leslie bolted to the cupboard at her right and, in one swift move, snatched an iron pot from its peg and flung it at Red's head.

Red was quick to twist his body in time to miss the assailing weapon and cackled devilishly as he raced from the cabin.

"Some day I'll have ya. You'll see," he threatened loudly before disappearing into the heavy brush bordering their property.

The muscles in Leslie's jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth in anger. Why, the nerve of him––to simply sneak into my home is inexcusable. What else is he capable of doing? She stewed.

She continued to sputter to herself as she gathered all the ingredients needed for the hotcakes she would make for their morning meal. Flour splattered all over her apron when she missed her aim, and the egg she reached for broke between her fingers from squeezing it too tightly.

"Dang it!" she yelled and stomped her foot in frustration as she repeated the steps. She added a cup of cow's milk to the mixture and started to beat the batter with a vigorous fury as she contemplated whether to tell her father of Red's visit. The cabin door swung open, and Leslie screeched loudly and jumped with a start. The bowl slipped from her hands, but luckily she caught it before it shattered to the floor.

"I didn't mean to scare you, darlin'!" her father, Jebidiah, apologized. He took a deep breath as he inhaled the strong aroma of coffee coming from the pot brewing on the small iron stove in the corner of the cabin. His arms were full of chopped firewood, and with three long strides, he crossed the room to stack the logs beside the hearth.

"It's gonna be a mighty fine day, darlin'." He winked and patted his belly, which was still hard with muscle for his forty-three years. "Our traps will be full with some fine beaver pelts. I just know it!"

Leslie smiled at her father. He was such a handsome man and still turned the heads of all the ladies in the settlement whenever he entered a room. His thick, soft brown hair favored a boyish curl that always threatened to tumble upon his forehead, and he had a contagious chuckle that afforded him many friends wherever he went.

She poured tiny round circles of the batter onto the heated frying pan and chewed her lower lip nervously.

"Papa, I don't mean to dampen your mood, but––um … "

"What is it, girl?" he interjected. "Let it out!"

Leslie cleared her throat and flipped the pancakes before answering. "Well, you see … Red was here when I came down this morning."

"You mean you didn't invite him in?"

She hesitated briefly. The last thing she wanted to do was worry him needlessly. Especially, since he was leaving that very morning on a four-day trapping excursion. She knew if given the opportunity, he would force her to stay with one of the neighbors while he was gone. She hesitated for a moment and wondered what would be the best way to answer him and decided just to get it over with.

"Well … no."

Her father's displeasure was obvious when his nostrils flared and his face turned even redder as the anger rose within him. She placed the bowl down upon the table and raised her palms in an effort to calm him before he exploded like a locomotive stack that needed to let loose some steam.

"Now, just cool your German temper, Papa. He might have knocked and I did not hear him, that's all." She shrugged. "After all, I was up in the loft and––"

Jebidiah gave her a look that quieted her immediately.

"I'm not likin' this, Leslie. I'm not likin' it at all." He banged his fist down upon the table, and Leslie reached for the bowl as it jostled near the edge. "What is he doing back in these parts?"

She placed a stack of golden cakes in front of him as he lowered himself onto the bench beside the table and leaned forward to tenderly pat his arm.

"Maybe he just wanted to apologize for all the trouble he caused last spring." It bothered her to lie, but she didn't want her father to worry needlessly while he was away. She sat down across from him and poured them each a cup of coffee.

Jebidiah shook his head, and his brow furrowed with concern.

Leslie hummed softly to try and relieve some of the tension in the room. She wanted to kick herself for even mentioning the visit. Ever since Red was banished from the settlement for stealing personal items from the graves of the local natives, her father had been on edge. Turning Red over to the authorities was necessary, she reasoned silently. What Red had done nearly caused a deadly uprising between the now friendly tribes and settlers of Hollow Pass. If her father had not intervened, she was certain everyone in the settlement would be dead right now.

"You know, I do not want you here alone. I want you staying with Tess until I return."

Leslie huffed. The last thing she wanted to do was find herself a prisoner and locked up in a cabin with Tess Kilgallon. She was a wonderful lady but more protective than a hungry grizzly sitting upstream during a salmon run. The woman would clearly question Leslie's freedom every day her father was gone. Simple chores would elevate into major causes of concern, and she whimpered her dissatisfaction.

"Papa, you know I can take care of myself. There is not a man in the territory who can out shoot me or fling a knife as straight and true. It is not the first, nor will it be the last time I have been left alone to fend for myself." She reached out to clasp his hand. "Papa, I'll be just fine! Please do not fret."

Jebidiah shook his head with worry. "Red is not a trusting man, especially where you are concerned." He pointed his fork to stress his words.

"Oh, Papa! Enough! He is not an idle-minded man either. Besides, I think he's a bit scared of me." She chuckled. "You should have seen how fast he high-tailed it out of here when I flung that very pan at his head." She pointed to the instrument, laughing gaily.

When her father joined in her laughter, she knew she had calmed his fear. All she had to do was convince herself. Once the morning meal was finished, they spent the next hour sitting by the fire and chatting about everything and anything that came to mind. She loved watching her father whittle a small cube of pine into different shapes.

He was quite the craftsman, and his carvings were popular amongst the settlers. She was glad he decided not to rush right out after they ate, so they could spend a little quality time before he left.

They talked about what needed to be done before winter turned the landscape to pure white. When Leslie mentioned the holidays, her father's eyes shrouded with sadness as he gazed her way.

She knew what he was thinking: how much she resembled her mother––her hair the color of harvested wheat and eyes the color of a lime before it was fully ripened. It broke her heart to hear him cry in the middle of the night, still missing her dear mother so very much after all this time. The fever, which took her mother two Christmases ago, had been completely unexpected. It nearly downed Leslie as well. Her father was relentless in his efforts to keep them both alive. It was the longest fourteen days of their lives. Burying her mother nearly destroyed him. If she had succumbed as well, she knew it would have been the key to lock away his sanity forever.

Leslie rose from her rocker and knelt on the floor at her father's feet and placed her head upon his lap.

Jebidiah petted her hair tenderly and sighed with a contentment that warmed her deeply. "The man who wins your heart, darlin', will be a man surely blessed."

She rose to her knees, placed a loving kiss upon his cheek, and squeezed him fiercely. "He would have to be a man like you, Papa, to win my heart."

Jebidiah tilted his head to the side and ran his finger softly along her cheek. "You have filled mine with such joy, darlin' … so much joy." He smiled and turned to look toward the window. "I best be getting my things together. Shaun will be here soon to get me."

Leslie was glad her father would be trapping with Shaun Kilgallon, their closest neighbor's son. He was an accomplished trapper, like her father, and knew how to use a gun and survive in the wilderness.

For a brief moment, the stranger in her dream came to mind. When she focused on what Shaun looked like, Leslie was certain there was nothing similar about the two men. Shaun's shoulders were not as wide, nor was he as tall as the stranger. She sat back on her heels as her father rose from his chair. She looked up at his towering frame and she smiled sweetly.

Jebidiah stretched his massive arms above his head and yawned out loud. He smiled down at her, offering his hands, and lifted her up with one sweep into a warm embrace.

"Do me a favor, sweet." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "Wrap some of them hotcakes you made extra of this morning for me, will you?" He winked.

Leslie placed a kiss on his nose and moved quickly as her father gathered his gear and placed it by the doorway.

There was a knock at the door, and her father opened it to find Shaun extending a freshly baked loaf of bread in greeting.

"Me mother sent this ov'r to ye," he offered with a heavy Irish brogue, "and said ye be more and welcome to stay with her while we'r gone." He winked at Jebidiah as he crossed the threshold. "I'd feel better knowin' ye dinna stay here alone."

Leslie closed the distance between them and reached for the bread he extended. A warm sensation ran up the length of her arm when their fingers touched, and she blushed like a schoolgirl.

She stood on her toes and placed a sweet kiss on his lightly freckled nose.

"I thank you for your concern, Shaun Kilgallon. But, like I told Papa, I'll be fine––like always."

Shaun reached out to caress her cheek with the palm of his hand. His gray eyes softened tenderly. "Ye know how I feel 'bout ya, Les."

Leslie noticed the beaming smile on her father's face. It was plainly obvious he approved of Shaun's display of affection. Her eyes scanned the contours of Shaun's face from the tuft of his wavy, auburn hair to his strong, square jaw and those thick lashes of his that curled at the edges. She wondered what it would feel like to taste his lips in a very deep and very long embrace and smiled as she fluttered her eyes coyly at him.

"You are sweet, Shaun. I promise to be careful. I'll visit your momma often, I swear." She brought her palms together as if in prayer and smiled sweetly as she batted her eyelashes at him.

Jebidiah moved beside his daughter and encircled her waist with his arm and chuckled heartily.

"We best be going, son. "Tis a lost cause trying to sway this one's mind."

Leslie laughed as well as she moved toward the table to cut the bread in half and then into slices. She wrapped the pieces in clean cloth, tucked it into her father's satchel, and then turned and embraced him warmly.

"Come home safe, Papa," she whispered in his ear. "My love goes with you."

Jebidiah squeezed her tightly. "I love you, darlin', and please, do not stray far from the cabin, and––"

"I know, Papa. I know," she interrupted. "Make sure I have the shotgun with me at all times. I promise, and I will." She nodded.

Jebidiah smiled as he cupped her face tenderly between his giant hands. He leaned forward and kissed each cheek softly before releasing her.

Leslie looked at Shaun and smiled.

"You be careful too. I'm depending on you to keep Papa out of trouble."

"Will ye promise ta accompany me ta the Founder's Day dance if 'n I do?" He toyed.

Leslie placed her hands on her hips and tried her best to look scornful. "You bartering with me, Shaun Kilgallon?"

Shaun chuckled. "Aye," he nodded, "that I am. Just makin' sure no one else stakes their claim while I am gone." His eyes twinkled playfully.

"Well, don't stay awake nights fretting about it either. Now off with the two of you––scoot!" she replied as she shooed them out the door.

Leslie waited only a short while before leaving on a walk to her very special place, just in case the men returned for something they may have forgotten. It was such a splendid hideaway, amid stately pines that towered nearly thirty feet tall. Rays of sunshine streamed through fissured branches to a small pond fed by a natural spring. This was her haven where she wasted away hours fantasizing about falling in love again, sharing a home with a husband, and children born of their love.

The small parcel of land they once farmed back in Ohio could not compare to the beauty that now surrounded her. She sighed deeply and breathed in the fresh open air that was peppered with the crisp scent of pine. Her eyes scanned the area and took in the wonder and splendor of a picturesque landscape with majestic snowcapped mountains in the distance, a colorful array of wild flowers that included a mass of black-eyed Susans, yellow buttercups, and beautiful violets. She giggled with delight when she sighted a family of beavers frolicking across the pond from where she began to wash the soiled laundry she had brought with her to clean.

The playful critters dove to scoop mud with their wide, flat tails from the pond's bottom and then patted the wet earth upon the wide mounds they built to house their pups. Before too long, rivulets of sweat began to flow between her breasts and saturate her chemise. The cool water against her parched skin felt refreshing, and Leslie gave in to the temptation and stripped down to her undergarments.

Like the beaver, she dove with skill and precision. Her smooth, even strokes barely caused a stir as she swam the length, and then the width, of the pond until her energy was spent. For a short while, she floated on her back and enjoyed the calming embrace of the water as it refreshed her skin. Her hair fanned out lazily behind her, glistening in the sunshine as it rippled softly upon the water's surface.

She felt at peace, renewed, and hopeful of those things yet to come in her life. Despite the stranger who continued to haunt her dreams, Leslie was certain there would be a happy future in store for her and Shaun if she ever decided it was a life she truly wanted to share with him. They had been courting since the holidays, and she knew it would not be long before he asked her father for her hand in marriage.

The thought of marriage with him seemed almost daunting at times, the more and more she dwelled on it. Courting was nothing like it had been with her deceased husband. Whenever they could find a stolen moment, they kissed and held each other tightly, avowing not only their love but the fiery passion they could barely contain. It was not like that with Shaun. She enjoyed being in his company, but the thought of lying naked in his arms never entered her thoughts. There was a comfort between them that was warm and safe. She knew that Shaun would do anything, risk anything, and obtain whatever he could just to make her happy.

Hollow Pass was a simple settlement, and having a pick of the finest in male flesh to choose from was about as slim as finding a herd of pure thoroughbreds in the wild. Leslie knew she was at the point in her life where she had to concede to being alone forever or accepting a man who would do his utmost to bring happiness into her world, even if she did not love and desire him passionately.

Many women in the wilderness settled for less. Many grew in love years later after the children were born and after a life were created and built from sweat, hard work, and struggling together to survive. Shaun came from a wonderful, kind-hearted family. Her father liked and respected him. Even though the light kisses they shared did not shake her to the very core of her being, she still enjoyed his touch and being held by him. Still, Leslie could not help but wonder what it would be like to be with the stranger in her dreams. What kind of feelings would his kisses stir within her? Was he real? Did he live with one of the neighboring tribes? Would he find her attractive? Could a red man be free to love a white woman? The same questions, the same concerns, played over and over again in her mind.

She shivered as a cool wind caressed her body, and Leslie snapped back into reality.

What am I thinking? I'm letting my dreams get carried away, she thought as she started to swim toward the shore. She could tell from the position of the sun that it was getting late and time for her to return to the cabin.

She dried quickly, dressed, and walked to the north side of the pond to gather some fresh pine boughs so she could replace the old stuffing in her mattress later that evening. Little forest creatures scampered in every direction as she approached. Leslie smiled as blue birds fluttered about overhead, warning each other of the human who just entered their domain. Gray squirrels chattered with bother as they skittered up the massive, gray-brown trunk of a nearby Scotch pine to find safety amongst its branches. She shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight and watched them briefly.

"Well, hello, you two!" she called out as their tiny heads bobbed up and down, as if in worried conversation. "I'll be gone in just a minute." She giggled as she continued to go about her business.

It took nearly the rest of the day to work the thick, jagged branches away without destroying the soft, pine scented needles. Meticulously, she filled the simple mattress with a blend of needles and wild game feathers that she had accumulated over the past six months and then stitched the seams tightly together.

Once the sun began its decent below the west horizon, Leslie finished tidying the cabin. She loved to watch the sky turn from azure to pink, then violet, and despite the darkness that settled in, a glorious canvas came alive with a mass of sparkling, tiny diamonds illuminating the sky. It was a ritual she practiced for as long as she could remember, earning her the pet name Stargazer. Leslie changed into her night dress and sat in the rocker by the fireplace. As she rocked slowly back and forth, it was not long before her mind and body began to relax, becoming one with the flames that flickered and danced before her.

An ominous feeling came over her, and goose bumps fluttered up and down her arms, prickling the hair at the nape of her neck. Tiny white spots danced before her eyes and clouded her vision. Her skin became flushed, and then instantly she broke into a cold sweat and felt extremely light-headed. She knew what was happening. When her body lost control, it was nothing like having a dream. This was a real life premonition, and it scared her to death. It was a sensation she experienced a hundred times over, and no matter how old she got, it never got any easier. It never made her feel less afraid.

Leslie forced herself to rise. She swayed and weaved as she walked toward the door. Her feet felt like she was trying to lift them out of three inches of heavy mud. The feeling grew stronger and stronger as sweat seeped from every pour of her body. More than anything, she wanted to dart outdoors into the cool, fall night. But she tested the security of the door's bolt instead and was satisfied to find it secure. She flipped around to lean against its solid surface and support her tiny frame until the room stopped spinning.

"Relax, Leslie. Stay calm. Breathe slowly," she spoke aloud.

Is this a warning for me or someone else? She asked herself.

She ran her fingers through her hair and found it damp with sweat. She swallowed hard and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands.

"This is not what I need right now!" she hollered out loud. Leslie felt like her legs would buckle beneath her, and she slowly slid to the floor with a soft thud. She drew her knees tightly to her chest and willed the tremors that made her shake uncontrollably to subside. The pressure in her head felt like it was ready to explode. When she looked down at her hands, a loud gasp escaped her mouth.

She watched in horror as her fingers turned a soft gray, then blue, and went completely numb.

"Damnation!" she screamed and pounded the floor with her fists and then shook them repeatedly to try and force some feeling back into her hands.

"Why, Lord? Why now? Who is it this time? Is it Papa? Is it me?" She tried to rationalize. Now was not the time to lose it. Her father went on many trapping trips. He always returned home safe. There was nothing to fear, to be afraid of. He was with Shaun. The natives were friendly. Stop. Think. Stay calm.

It took two days to check the traps and one more to travel to Hollow Pass to trade his pelts.

Three more days, just three more days, and then they will be home, she tried to convince herself. She tried to rise and used the door to steady her shaky body. Whatever bad tidings were about to befall them, Leslie knew it was out of her control. Still, she could not quell the tears of fear that began to cloud her vision or the sickening feeling of nausea that grew in the pit of her stomach and started to rise in her throat.

Slowly she made her way back to the rocker and mindlessly rocked away the seconds … the minutes … and focused on reminiscing about all the wonderful past events in her life. She rubbed her temples with her fingers to try and stop the insistent pounding. She knew she had to try and focus, try to get her mind on something else, even if it meant thinking about the life she shared with her husband and little boy before she lost them to that fateful storm long ago. Any thing would do––anything.

Think, she thought. Just think of something else, something to get your mind off your fears.

Married at seventeen, a mother at nineteen, widowed and motherless at twenty-two, she felt as though she had lived an entire lifetime already. Never in a hundred years did she think fate could be so unkind as to repeatedly plague upon one family so much pain and heartache. Her darling three-year-old son and husband were taken from her together when they were caught in a winter blizzard on their way back from a visit to the local mercantile. The storm came out of nowhere and took the town by surprise.

Leslie whispered the Lord's Prayer and beseeched for her father and Shaun's safety. She asked for the strength to endure what was to lie ahead and tried to fill her mind with pleasant thoughts instead. There never was a time her father returned home empty handed. She smiled. Leslie tilted her head back and willed her body to relax, rocking slowly and trying to focus on the flames that sparked with color before her. What surprise will you bring back for me, Papa, this time? Will it be a bottle of perfume or a bolt of fabric to sew a new dress?

She loved her father so very much. They had grown closer over the past two years. They relied on each other now, not just for companionship but to create new memories and leave the painful ones behind. It was not easy. When he first decided they would leave Ohio and settle on land that his brother Matthew deeded to them after he made his fortune following the Louisiana Purchase, she was not kind to him and reacted terribly.

Leslie remembered how upset she had been with her father. It was difficult for her to leave her friends, the home she grew up in, and the home she started with her husband, as well as his grave and that of their child and her mother. It took time for her to realize that Hollow Pass gave them closure and the start of a new beginning together. It took some time for her to forgive her father.

The white birch logs crackled and hissed loudly as the heat drew the moisture from the bark. Leslie rocked, oblivious to the warmth radiating from the fire and the orange-gold flames that cast shadows on the walls around her. She continued to reflect on the past, her journey east with her father, the terrains they crossed, and the perils they survived together to settle in this cabin they now shared and had grown to love.

Soon her eyes grew heavy. The strain of worry began to take its toll. Weary and drained, it was too much of an effort to climb the ladder to her loft, so she settled upon her father's cot and fell into a deep sleep that was void of dreams for the first time in months.