Page 4 of Christmas at Wolf Creek

Her face lights up like I’ve just offered her the moon. “Really? We can really go trick-or-treating?”

“A tiny version,” I caution, already wondering if I’llregret this. “And we’d need costumes.”

She launches herself at me, small arms wrapping around my neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I already know what you can be too!”

“Oh, do you now?” I laugh, holding her close.

“A witch!” she declares. “A good witch, with a pointy hat and everything!”

How fitting, I think wryly. The reclusive woman in the woods, already viewed with suspicion by the few locals who’ve glimpsed me, now literally dressed as a witch.

“Deal,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “But let’s keep it between us for now, okay? We’ll surprise everyone on Halloween.”

∞∞∞

Halloween arrives with a perfect autumn chill in the air. The mountains are ablaze with color, and the afternoon sun casts long shadows across our yard as I help Nora into her cowgirl outfit. We cobbled it together from pieces found in the attic of the main house—an old leather vest that must have belonged to the previous owners, silver spurs and a lasso that Declan ordered online, and boots Wren found in town.

“How do I look?” Nora spins in front of the mirror, her blonde braids bouncing beneath her hat.

“Like the fiercest cowgirl in all of Alberta,” I tell her, adjusting her bandana. “Annie Oakley has nothing on you.”

She beams, then points to the bed where my costume waits. “Your turn, Mom!”

I eye the black dress, pointed hat, and striped tights with unease. It’s been years since I’ve worn a costume, since I’ve allowed myself this kind of whimsy. But the excitement in Nora’s eyes makes it impossible to back out now.

“Fine, but no photos,” I warn, though I know it’s a lost cause. Kat has become the unofficial family photographer, her phone constantly ready to capture moments for what she calls “the MacGallan family archive.”

Ten minutes later, I’m staring at my reflection in bewilderment. The witch costume is actually... flattering? The black dress hugs my curves, usually hidden under practical sweaters and jeans. The hat sits at a jaunty angle atop my red curls, which I’ve left loose for once.

“You look beautiful, Mama,” Nora says in awe.

I smile, touching the brim of my pointy hat. “And you look perfect. Ready for our adventure?”

She nods eagerly, grabbing the plastic pumpkin bucket Rory found in town. “Ready!”

The sun is setting as we climb into my SUV. I’ve decided we’ll drive to Jake’s ranch first—partlybecause it’s closer, and partly because I’m nervous about how he’ll react. Better to get the most uncomfortable part over with.

“Do you think Mr. Jake will have candy?” Nora asks as we bounce down the dirt road that connects our properties.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. He might not be expecting trick-or-treaters out here.” I haven’t told her how standoffish our neighbor has been, how he barely acknowledges us when we cross paths.

Jake’s ranch house comes into view—a two-story log cabin with a wide porch and dark windows. Unlike our cottage with its cheerful Halloween decorations, his place looks abandoned except for the truck parked outside and the thin wisp of smoke rising from the chimney.

“It looks spooky,” Nora whispers as I park.

“Remember, if he seems busy, we’ll just say hello and go,” I remind her, suddenly questioning my decision. “He might be tired from working all day.”

We make our way up the creaking steps to the front door. No lights welcome us, no decorations soften the stark exterior. I hesitate, then knock firmly, hearing the sound echo inside.

Long seconds pass. I’m about to suggest we leave when the door swings open, revealing Jake Brennan’s imposing figure. He’s wearing worn jeans and a flannel shirt that hangs open, revealing a tanned,muscular chest. A day’s worth of stubble darkening his jaw has saliva pooling in my mouth. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of us.

“Trick or treat!” Nora calls out, holding up her pumpkin bucket with enthusiasm.

Jake stares, at a loss for words. His gaze shifts from Nora to me, lingering on my costume before quickly looking away.

“I, uh, don’t have any candy,” he says gruffly.

“That’s okay,” I jump in, placing a protective hand on Nora’s shoulder. “We just wanted to say hello. This is Nora’s first time trick-or-treating, and we thought—”