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Mara Claire Wexler kept her hand pressed to the bruise blooming along her ribs as she walked, because pressure was…

The house sat quiet in the late-summer light, not the peaceful kind of quiet that comes with satisfied work and…

The letter arrived on a damp Tuesday in April, borne by a postman who had mastered the Boston habit of…

The wind in Cheyenne, Wyoming didn’t merely blow in the winter. It behaved like a debt collector with cold fingers,…

You learn a few things if you live long enough to watch three generations of people try to outrun their…

The wind in Harlow Creek did not simply blow. It judged. It slipped through the loose boards of the livery…

The Montana Territory did not bother with politeness. It had no patience for people who wanted life to be gentle,…

The scratch of a pen shouldn’t have sounded like a verdict. But inside the walnut-paneled library of the Thorne Estate…

The first rule of staying alive in a city that ate secrets for breakfast was simple: be forgettable. Forgettable hair….

The winter market in Pinebreak was loud in the way only a frontier town could be loud: not the clean…

Jenna Anderson ran the way a person runs when the world has decided her body is a bill that can…

She was just the girl who refilled water glasses. That was the story everyone in Marble & Thorn told themselves,…