More shifting. “I don’t really concern myself with what other people think.”
“Commendable. I imagine that’s not always easy, especially in a small town.”
Sam said nothing, her silence all the confirmation Bree needed.
Bree decided to push forward. “What do they have against these guys anyway?”
Sam looked down at her hands. “Have you asked any of them?”
“Several,” Bree admitted. “But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that small-town folk are wary of outsiders, myself included, and are cautious about what they share.”
“So, you’re asking me?”
“As a local and one of the owners, you’re the perfect person to talk to,” Bree told her. “You can see both sides.”
Sam looked off toward the woods, almost as if she was wishing she could make a run for it. “Why does it matter? You’ve got your story, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Do I? Because on the surface, Sanctuary seems like a great place with good men and women doing good things.”
“It is,” Sam confirmed.
“But then why the rift?” Bree shook her head. “People don’t polarize without reason, whether it be real or imaginary. I can’t in good conscience write about how great this place is, knowing there’s an undercurrent of disquiet among the locals. Is it based in fear? Are these guys dangerous? A threat to the community or something?”
“What?” Sam looked shocked. “No, of course not. Like you said yourself, they’re good guys.”
“Then, help me understand. Off the record, okay? I just need to wrap my mind around this, so I can do this place justice.”
Sam was close; she just needed some gentle coaxing. She stared off into the distance, as if deciding where to start. Bree waited patiently.
“You have to understand that the Winstons were a popular, important family,” Sam finally began. “Their family history goes back to the founding of Sumneyville itself, and this resort was a big part of it. It was a real nice place. Fancy, too, but community-oriented. They often held celebrations around Christmas and the Fourth of July and invited the whole town.”
Bree nodded encouragingly. “Sounds nice.”
“It was,” Sam agreed with a sad smile. “When Matt went off into the service, there was a terrible fire. He lost his whole family, and the resort was destroyed.”
“I read about that in the town’s history as part of my background research.”
“Folks around here took it hard. The Winstons were active in the community and local politics. Their passing left holes that had to be filled. Matt was gone; no one expected him to return after what happened. So, other people stepped up, the town adjusted, and everyone went on. Matt’s return has stirred up a lot of old feelings and memories—some good, some not so good.”
Everything Sam said jived with what Bree had heard in the salon. Any family as wealthy and powerful as the Winstons, even if they were highly regarded by the majority, would inspire resentment from a few—especially if they blamed the Winstons, rightly or wrongly, for their own lack of success. With the Winstons gone, so were the obstacles.
“I take it, those who filled the holes aren’t quite as beloved as the Winstons.”
“Not quite, no. Though, to be fair, I don’t think anyone could live up to their legacy. They were good people, very civic-minded.”
Once again, Sam corroborated what Bree had already read and heard—that the prodigal son was carrying on the tradition by creating Sanctuary, becoming a thorn in the side of the hole-fillers in the process.
“Do you think those reacting negatively toward Sanctuary are doing so because they feel threatened by Matt’s decision to remain?”
“I don’t know what they think, Miss De Rossi, but I do know that asking questions like that isn’t likely to get you the answers you’re looking for.”
“Lenny Petraski said something similar, though his analogy involved beehives and honey.”
Sam stiffened visibly at the mention of the local cop, which Bree found more revealing that anything Sam had said.
“You don’t think much of Lenny, huh?”
“We’re not close. Different circles, I guess.”
Before Bree could ask her to elaborate, Nick appeared from the woods on horseback with another animal in tow, effectively ending their conversation.
“Thanks, Sam,” Bree said quietly. “I appreciate your candor.”
Sam nodded. “When you’re asking your questions, just remember to consider the source.”
With that cryptic statement, Sam waved to Nick and began walking toward the wooded area off to the left.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cage
Cage dismounted and watched Sam head off toward the woods to the cabin she shared with Smoke. The two women had looked to be in a serious discussion when he arrived, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was about. He wasn’t worried though. Sam was one of them. She wouldn’t share anything they didn’t want shared.
“You’re early.”
Bree shrugged. “I finished sooner than expected and decided to come up. I hope that’s not a problem.”
He patted the horse’s neck and pulled a pair of carrots from his pocket, giving one to each animal. “Not at all. Are you ready to begin your adventure?”
Bree’s eyes grew wide. “Those are for us? We’re riding horses?”
“Best way to get to where we’re going,” he said with a grin.
“And where is that exactly?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Bree approached the horses, her steps slow and hesitant but her excitement tangible. Cage wondered if he’d done the right thing by planning a trail ride. After the way Bree’s eyes had lit up when she saw Heff riding during the tour, it had seemed like a good idea.
The mare turned her head and lifted her snout, inviting Bree to pet her. Bree obliged, reaching up to stroke the animal’s neck. The look of childlike wonder on her face when the horse nuzzled her suggested he’d made the right call.
“Have you ridden before?”
“Once, when I was a kid. I’m not sure it counts though. It was a pony ride with a traveling circus. But I loved it.”
He knew exactly what she meant; he been to a few of those himself.
“Nothing to it.” He showed her how to put her foot in
