Chapter 3

Seven years ago, Samuel Maxwell had knelt before my elders, a desperate man.

His ranch was failing, his family fractured after a series of misfortunes that felt like a curse. He'd heard stories of my tribe, of our connection to the land, our ability to heal and restore balance. He'd offered aid to my people during a harsh winter, a debt of honor my tribe felt deeply.

I was the one chosen. The "Spirit Guide" in training. To fulfill the pact, I married Ethan.

I brought the old ways, the respect for the earth, the quiet ceremonies that coaxed life back into the parched Maxwell lands. The cattle thrived. The orchards bloomed.

Kay was born, Little Eagle, a sign the spirits were pleased.

All to end like this.

And Samuel thought I would bear another child for this family? For Ethan, who had destroyed his own son?

I straightened, pulling Kay's blanket tighter around his still form in my arms, though he was on the gurney. It was a reflex.

My gaze met Samuel's.

"When your grandfather saved my tribe from starvation, offering aid when no one else would, we swore an oath. I came here to honor that. I gave you my life, my spirit. I gave you Kay, a child of two worlds, a bridge to the sacred. That was to repay the kindness."

My voice was surprisingly steady.

"If I were to bear another child for this house, after this... the spirits would not allow it. Your family cannot bear such unearned fortune on the back of such cruelty. It would invite a true and final disaster."

I looked towards the gurney. "Little Eagle is gone. The debt is paid. The blessing is withdrawn. I must go."

The crematorium in Tucson hummed through the night.

I sat outside, on a cold stone bench, chanting the songs of passage for Kay, my voice a low murmur against the city's distant sounds. His journey to the spirit world needed my guidance.

At dawn, Samuel, looking a decade older, his eyes hollow, handed me a small, surprisingly heavy wooden box.

Kay's ashes.

"You're truly not coming to the service, Ella?" he asked, his voice raspy. "Just a small one, here in town."

I clutched the box to my chest. It was still faintly warm.

"A funeral is a ritual for the living, Samuel. For those who need to say goodbye in that way. My goodbyes were sung through the night. Little Eagle is with the ancestors now. He is at peace."

I paused. "I will return to my people. To the mountains. It is time for me to complete my training."

I would not leave Kay's essence in this place, near Ethan.

But I had promised Samuel. I handed him a small bundle: Kay's first moccasins, a favorite carved wooden horse, a tiny shirt.

"For his memorial. So you can have a place to remember him, if your heart needs it."

He took them, his hands shaking.

When I returned to the ranch house that Ethan and I had once shared, intending only to gather my few personal belongings, their voices reached me before I even opened the door.

Laughter. Hers, light and tinkling. His, a low rumble I once loved.

I pushed the door open.

They were on our bed. The bed where Kay was conceived, where he'd crawled in on stormy nights.

Sophia, wearing one of my silk robes, was twirling something between her fingers. Kay's turquoise amulet, now reset into a garish gold pendant, nestled in the hollow of her throat.

"Ethan, darling," she purred, "I was reading this fascinating article. These spirit stones... they say their power is enhanced if they're... close to all your chakras. Maybe we could try wearing it... differently?"

Ethan kissed her neck, his hand sliding under the robe. "Is that so, little witch? We have eighteen new charms Sophia's psychic made from 'blessed' stones to go with it. Maybe we can see how many you can... accommodate tonight."

"Oh, you're terrible!" she giggled.

They were defiling his memory, his very spirit, with their filth.

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. The pain was a distant thing.

Ethan looked up, saw me standing there, clutching Kay's ashes.

No guilt. No shame. Only annoyance.

He disentangled himself from Sophia, pulling the robe tighter around her.

"Finally decided to come back?" He gestured dismissively at the wooden box. "What's that you're hugging now? More of your superstitious junk? This house is starting to look like a reservation gift shop."