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night and the angry storm.
    The Beast of Winter had indeed arrived.
    Feeling an ulcer burning his stomach, Master Pendleton snapped his fingers. A Cree Indian butler named Charles brought over a tumbler of brandy on a silver tray. Pendleton sipped his liqueur and peered out the fourth-story window. He had a bird’s eye view of the fort village below.
    His village. Pendleton had purchased this fort along with Manitou Outpost two years ago. Hudson’s Bay Company had offered the two forts and surrounding territory up for sale so cheap that Pendleton and his Montréal partners took the deal and formed Pendleton Fur Trading Company. It was only after moving into Fort Pendleton and setting up trappers at Manitou Outpost that the officers understood the reason the HBC governor was so eager to relinquish this territory. The forts were cursed.
    Falling snow powdered the rooftops of a dozen cabins. Windows were aglow with candlelight. Inside the cabins, dark shapes moved about as the colonists went through their suppertime routines, no doubt praying over their meals for salvation from the Beast.
    Another bloody death , Pendleton thought. The latest victim had been Percy Kennicot’s wife, Sakari. Percy was one of the officers who lived here in Noble House. He was also a friend and colleague of many years. Avery Pendleton had dined with the Kennicots on many occasions and was saddened by Sakari’s loss, even if she had been just a homely native woman. She had left behind three children.
    How many more must die before this beast is brought down?
    As if to mock Pendleton, the snowstorm formed into a monstrous face. Pendleton blinked and it was gone. How many glasses of brandy had he drunk?
    Behind him, Walter Thain continued to smack and slurp down sardines like a walrus.
    Another migraine tightened around Pendleton’s skull like a vise. He grabbed the edge of the windowsill.
    “You all right, Master Pendleton?” the butler asked.
    Pendleton pinched the bridge of his nose. “Charles, get me some aspirin and fetch Willow for me.”
    “Lady Pendleton left, sir.”
    “What do you mean she left? When?”
    “A few moments ago.”
    Pendleton looked back out the window. A woman in a white fur coat and cap was hurrying across the courtyard. The blizzard shrouded her. Pendleton’s face tightened when he lost sight of his wife.
    12
     
    Willow Pendleton pulled the collar of her snow fox coat tight around her neck. “Damn this horrid place.” She crossed the fort’s courtyard through the snowstorm. “And damn Avery for bringing me here.” Her words and sighs puffed out in angry vapors. Her shoes sank in a foot of snow, soaking the ankles of her stockings. Her body trembled from more than just the skin-prickling, teeth-chattering cold.
    “God, please release me from this hell. I deserve better than this!”
    She had spoken the prayer daily and now wondered if anyone in heaven was listening. Raised as a proper Catholic, Willow had worshipped the Madonna like she was her own mother. Willow had believed that God and His angels were watching over her. Guiding her to the happy life she deserved. Deserved! But now her faith was dying out.
    There’s still hope , spoke her encouraging voice. There’s always the Spring .
    Spring! Ha! challenged a little-girl voice. Spring is ages away. You could die of boredom before then. You could go to sleep one night and never wake up.
    It was ten days till Christmas. The holiday would give Willow a brief reprieve, but then the festivities would pass, and she would have to endure four more months of winter and isolation.
    And Avery Pendleton’s long spells of silence.
    A whirling snowstorm engulfed the fort and tossed Willow from side to side. All the colonists were inside their homes, their doors latched after hearing the news of another death. There was only once place Willow felt truly safe.
    She reached the chapel, a log house that looked like all the others. Its only distinguishing feature was a