The Blood Upon Her Sleeve
A weary bride steps onto a lonely platform wearing the unmistakable stains of violence, instantly upending the quiet expectations of a frontier town. Can a union forged through a newspaper advertisement survive the deadly secrets both strangers carry into the mountains? The noon train screamed into Mercy Hollow beneath a boiling cloud of Colorado dust. Steam rolled across the platform as passengers descended, but the moment Mara appeared on the iron steps, conversations died one by one. She carried a worn carpetbag in one hand and a cracked leather satchel in the other. Mud stained the hem of her plain brown traveling dress. And across one sleeve was a dark streak of dried blood. Mara ignored every stare. Her eyes searched the platform until they found Abel Stone. He was impossible to miss. Nearly seven feet tall, with massive shoulders, a dark beard, and hands …