Kristoph Oltmann hadn’t planned on still being alone with no wife and partner to share his life. He thought Maggie Flanaghan was the answer to his prayers, but her secret past makes her unsuitable as a preacher’s wife. Can he believe Maggie has been heaven-sent in spite of her predicament? Can he be HER SANCTUARY, even as she is exactly what he longs for—a haven for his heart?
River’s Bend, Missouri, early March, 1855
The mob harassed Margaret Flanaghan ahead of them, their zeal washing over her in a wave of prejudice and hatred. “I was only gathering medicines for my father.” Her rising terror drained the conviction from her voice, leaving her with nothing, not even a defense. Sharp pains stabbed her bad hip, increasing her limp until she was having trouble staying ahead of them.
“Medicine?” Mr. Jones swung his lantern at her face, forcing her back another step. “Is that what you call that potion over your fire, witch?”
“It wasn’t a potion. It was tea. I was only steeping willow bark tea. For his pain.”
“You were practicing the devil’s arts, witch!”
The crowd of men and women, even a few of the precious children, people with whom she’d traveled from St. Louis, had thought were friends, took up the chant.
“Witch! Witch! Witch!”
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