Deceptive Desires

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Deceptive Desires

By Shira Stevens

(aka Serita Stevens)

Published by Leisure Books

1987

Best Western Suspense

Romantic Times

1988

Best Historical Romantic Suspense

RWA

1988

Serita Stevens

818 -769 0842

The hot sun beat down on the stage making those of us inside even warmer than before. The road from Salt Lake City, where I had started my stage journey, to Ruby City, Montana, was a lonely track, hemmed in by sagebrush and surrounded by steep barren hills. We seemed to have been traveling forever, even though this last leg of my journey had only begun at dawn. I thanked God that my long trip was nearly over — and yet in many ways — it was only beginning.

I tasted the dust of the road in my mouth, even though we had stopped for refreshment less than an hour ago. I wasn’t sure which was worse — the dust or the food!

Indeed, the stage stops provided the worst meals I had ever experienced. Once we had passed the Yellowstone River, and the site where General George Custer had fallen, the food had become unpalatable and outrageously expensive. Imagine four whole dollars for a meal!

Clinging to the strap as the stage swayed, I bounced along, gritting my teeth. Exhausted as I was from the nights of worry and uncomfortable beds, I wanted to close my eyes, yet knew I could not for the ruts in the road made any form of rest impossible.

I felt the sweat and heat under my close-fitting gown and I vowed never again would I dress like this for a stage ride. Not even the leg-of-mutton sleeves, designed for optimum coolness, seemed to give relief. At least I had had sense enough not to wear the whalebone hoops under my sleeves. In fact, I did not even recall whether I packed them or if they were among the items I had sold. So much had gone to pay for this trip. I only hoped Elliot was right when he had said that the west would be a new beginning for us both.

I stared out of the open window at the rusted pans that lay half out of the shallow stream we now followed and wondered what had happened to the men who had mined these waters. How long had they lain there? I knew that gold had been discovered late in the 60’s, just after the Civil War, but some precious metals were still being found. From his letters, I could only guess that my brother had made some startling discoveries.

A deep longing to see my twin enveloped me like the dust that surrounded us, and my hand inadvertently went to my throat to touch the heart locket he had given me. Truly, I missed my twin brother and would be glad to be with him again, to see his smiling face. If I could indeed see his face! He had told me in his last letter that he seldom shaved out here. Tears came to my eyes and I quickly brushed them away. His last letter was nearly eight months ago. What had happened to him in those eight months and why hadn’t he responded to my letters since? He had warned me several times to take care of myself. Now, I wondered if he had cared for himself.

This last leg of my journey seemed the roughest of all. As the stage hit a washout and jarred me again, I grabbed the side of my seat. Was the journey a mistake? I supposed after the long trip from Chicago, I should be used to this, but I wasn’t.

As the stage swayed, I was glad I’d eaten little when we had stopped for lunch. The driver had said he would be changing horses again before reaching Ruby City. Perhaps then I would feel more like eating.

At my side, an elderly gentleman uncorked the bottle he’d brought out from his old battered coat and took a greedy swig, not spilling a drop as the stage lurched.

The tap on my shoulder startled me. But I quickly realized it was the young boy seated across from me — the one who reminded me so much of Elliot with his cocky bravado. He held out a piece of apple for me.

Smiling at him, I shook my head. “Thank you. David, but I’m not hungry.” I prayed the growling in my stomach wouldn’t betray me, especially since I knew that the apple was probably the last of the boy’s food until our next stop.

"It's … It’s okay. Really.”

“Well, if she don’t want it, lad. I’ll take it.” Mrs. Germinadi, a grossly overweight woman, continued to fan herself.

He looked at me again, and I shrugged, “It’s yours to do with as you wish, David. But you might want it for later. After all, you are going further than either of us.”

The boy looked at the fruit a moment and put it back in his pouch. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Mrs. Germinadi grumbled, but it wasn’t the first time she had been displeased on this trip.

* * *

The coach climbed the steep grade on higher ground. The world seemed to change in that moment from the shimmering gray of sagebrush hills to the cool hues of blue and white. The green of the river sparkled beneath it. As the sun shone on the mountaintop, I felt a ray of hope. Everything would be all right, I told myself. Elliot would be at the stage stop waiting for me.

I stared at the distant mountains, still covered with snow despite the heat, looking for some answer.

I wondered what my life would be like out here. Closing my eyes, I mentally reread Elliot’s final letter: what had he discovered? Why had he warned me to be careful of what I wrote him? If only he had written back and told me. If only he had sent for me. Nervously, I wondered if I shouldn’t have waited a bit longer in Chicago, or perhaps tried yet another teaching post. But no, my fear for Elliot had forced me into action. Nearly a year without any word from him was far too long.

Taking several deep breaths, I closed my eyes as I tried not to see the barren lands or feel the illness caused by the motion of the stage. I did not know how much longer I could stand the close confines, this heat, or my traveling companions.

Despite the tight quarters, the passenger across from me had stretched out his legs and reclined so that his unbuttoned vest revealed a huge stomach. As I stared at him — at his audacity — he leered in response. Quickly, I looked away. Even the drab scenery was preferable to looking at him! I glanced at the watch fob that had been my father’s. According to the driver, we would be in Ruby City by sunset. My heart hammered with nervous anticipation of what I would find. I longed for a bath. Most of all, I longed to see Elliot — and talk to him.

“Wanna play a game?”

The boy captured my attention once more. I smiled at him and nodded as he took out a deck of cards.

In the distance, several dust clouds rose like miniature cyclones. Squinting with the heat and the glare of the sun against the snow, I realized these were not cyclones but riders. Did trouble lie ahead?

The riders continued at their breakneck speed pulling their horses suddenly to a halt in front of us. The stage was forced to stop. For a fearful moment, it seemed as if we were being held up, and then I realized that the men wore metal stars on their shirts. Beside me, the old woman opened her eyes, “We here?”

I shook my head just as the door was flung open and a rifle was thrust into the carriage. “Sorry, ladies and gentlemen.” The man who faced us tipped his hat politely. “We’re lookin’ for a runaway. A fugitive from justice. Man’s dangerous. Just wanted to check and see none of you passengers might have seen him. We have reason to believe he planned to meet the stage today.”

“Well, I’ll be!” Mrs. Germinadi exclaimed. “I suppose you’re going to make us get out and search us.” She huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf while David leaned closer to me, his eyes the size of the apple he had just put away. I put my hand out to touch him and he gave me a tentative smile.

“Would you mind putting that away?” I glared at the gold-starred man. “You’re frightening him. And you’re frightening me.”

The man wet his lips. “Sorry, ma’am.” He handed the rifle to someone else and held out his hand. “Gotta insist you come out.”

I glanced at several of the others in the carriage and felt relieved at the chance of stretching my legs for the moment. I gave my hand to the sheriff and took David’s small one in mine. Together we stepped onto the dusty road.

A rope hung from one of the branches, swinging empty in the wind, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. Elliot had told me — in his first letter — that justice in the West was swift but often was not justice at all. Forcing myself not to think about the poor man who had obviously suffered at the end of this rope I turned my attention to the riders.

“Ma’am.” One of the riders spoke. “Mind standing under the tree over there? Wouldn’t want the sun to hurt your pretty skin.”

Without looking up I nodded and walked toward the shade he indicated. David came with me.

“That your boy?”

We both turned toward the man still in the saddle. For a moment I paused, struck by the startling blueness in the eyes and the way he seemed to be studying me. I shifted uneasily.

“That your son, Ma’am?” He pushed his hat forward.

I shook my head. “David’s just a stage friend. He’s ... traveling onto Helena.”

“See.” His laconic drawl was almost Southern in tone. As his attention turned to the others, I felt a sense of relief.

It took several minutes for all the travelers, six of us, to escape the heat and confines of the carriage. Mrs. Germinadi continued to fan herself, while another woman put up a parasol. Again, I couldn’t help but think of all I had sold or been forced to leave behind in order to make the trip. Two trunks were all I had been able to take. Perhaps one day when we had more money, Elliot would let me send for those things I had left with friends.

The man who had assisted us peeked in the carriage again, pulling up cushions — as if someone could or would want to hide beneath them!

“Nope, Logan.” He addressed the man on the horse who had talked to me. “He ain’t here.”

“Just what is the name of this desperado you are seeking?” My neighbor’s high-pitched voice seemed to cut through the heat. “And what has he done?”

The man named Logan glanced in her direction, but his eyes returned to me — as if he suspected me of doing something evil. I felt my heart beat faster and I knew for certain that it was not just the heat. “The man’s name, Ma’am, is Edward Elliot.”

I wet my lips and felt the dryness in my throat. I tried to swallow and glanced upward towards the man who was speaking. Our eyes met and once again I felt my pulses racing. Could my fear and worry be seen? The man they were seeking could not be my brother Elliot, and yet our last name was Edwards. Would Elliot have reversed his names? But why would he be hiding? What could he have done? Hadn’t his last letter to me indicated that he had found something marvelous?

“Excuse me.” The voice hardly sounded like mine and I was trembling so hard I could barely hear my own thoughts. “What did he do ... that you should seek him so?”

The man, who continued to stare at me, shifted in his saddle. I glanced toward the gray horse, and then met the man s eyes again.

It was the third man who spoke. “Edward Elliot is suspected of murdering a government agent.”

“Murder?” I gasped.

“Oh, dear me. Oh my,” Mrs. Germinadi fanned faster. “Murder! And you suspected that he might have been here on our stage? Oh, dear me.” She continued to fan. “I should never have come out here. I should never have listened to my son. I…—^”

“Ma’am.” The man named Logan spoke. “I believe you are becoming over-emotional. It’s a simple search. We don’t know for certain that Mr. Elliot has committed this murder. We know only that he is missing and that we are seeking him. I can assure you,” he glanced toward the sheriff who had assisted us out of the stage, “Mr. Washburne has matters well under control.”

“Well, if he has matters well under control —” my neighbor continued to shriek.

Logan gave a sardonic smile. “Clay, why don’t you assist the ladies back in the coach. Morgan and I will continue to ride ahead. I want to see if the fellow is hiding in the mountains.”

“I think we’re wastin’ our time,” the sheriff said, “since nobody’s seen the man fer near on he paused to count on his fingers, “five or six months.”

Logan glared at the sheriff. “He’s around. He has to be. If he received the telegram, he’s here and we’re going to find him.” He reined in his restless gray. “I thought sure he would meet this stage. Seems I was wrong.”

I held my breath. My telegram had done this? Had Elliot really received it? Had my brother planned to meet my stage? The many months without news from him had made me fearful, but hearing that he might have truly received the telegram revived my hope.

The man, Logan, continued to stare at me and I wondered if my own reddish brown hair, covered by my bonnet as it was, was recognizable as being the same color as Elliot’s. Did he see the family features? How well did he know my brother?

The others started getting back in the coach. David pulled at my hand.

“Boy’s headed toward Helena. That where you’re going?” Logan rode his horse closer to me, and I could feel myself shaking.

“Me?” My voice squeaked.

He nodded.

My throat was dry. “Ruby City. I’m headed for Ruby City.”

“Oh?” He looked down at my ringless hands. “You have family there?”

My mind blanked. “Do I have family where?”

“Ruby City?”

The sun seemed to beat down upon me unmercilessly. David stood tall as if his presence alone would protect me.

“I ... yes ... no, I mean I have a cousin who lives there.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “You’ll be staying with your cousin then?”

It was impossible for me to think with the man staring at me. I was aware of his sun-darkened skin, the crinkles about his eyes, and the lines on his face. His deep blue eyes had such intensity that they seemed to burn through my very soul. As they watched me, I felt myself shivering from deep within.

“I ... don’t know yet. They ... uh ... don’t know ... that I’m coming. It was ... a surprise.” I wet my lips, but nothing seemed to help. Indeed, all this was a surprise to me. I would not believe my brother Elliot had harmed anyone, or that he would be on the run.

“I see.”

“Is there a reason you continue to stare at me, sir?”

“You want me to punch him out, ‘Lisa?” my protector asked.

I smiled at David as best I could and took his hand in mine. “No, darling. Let’s just get back on the stage.”

We moved forward but before my foot could reach the metal step, he spoke again. “You’re an attractive woman, Miss ... ‘Lisa.”

I winced at his intimate tone.

I did not consider myself a beauty and I displayed none of the flirtatiousness that attracts a man’s attention. Dimpled blondes were in vogue. My straightforward manner and auburn coloring were quite out of fashion. I felt myself trembling inside. Why had he singled me out? This man staring at me could probably have any woman he wanted. And even though I knew there was a scarcity of women here in the west, I doubted this man’s attentions were sincere. I knew, therefore, that he must be up to some trick. He suspected me of knowing Elliot; he was trying to unnerve me.

“Come on, David.” I urged the boy up the steps.

He shook his head. “You go first. I don’t trust these cowboys.”

I saw the man, Logan, smile slightly.

Ignoring the tightening in my stomach, I reached up to touch David’s unshaven cheek.

David sighed and stepped up as Logan rode closer behind me. “Have a way with kids, do you?”

“So I’ve been told.” I turned to respond to him — not wanting to and yet drawn to him.

Once again, he smiled. “The name’s Logan, Logan James, Miss. I hope that I will have the opportunity of calling upon you. My lands are quite near Ruby City. Indeed, I’m often in town. Now, what did you say the name of your cousin was?”

I was caught off guard. In one of my brother’s letters, he had mentioned a Logan James. The references had not been complimentary. If this was the same man, did he have anything to do with my brother’s current problems? Elliot was always getting into jams as a kid, forever counting on help from me or Mother to save him at the last minute. Was I too late to save him now? As I looked again into the blue eyes, I had the distinct feeling that this man’s search for my brother was not motivated only by the desire for justice. No, he sought Elliot for some other reason. The question was what?

“What did you say your cousin’s name was?” he repeated.

“Uh ... Baxter.” I said, giving my mother’s maiden name.

“Baxter? Strange. I know of no Baxter in Ruby City.”

“Well,” I shrugged. “It’s been some time since I’ve had contact with them. Perhaps they’ve moved on.”

He stared at me a moment longer. “What will you do then, pretty lady?”

I glared at him. “Don’t call me that. Please.”

“Then give me a name, pretty lady.”

David appeared at the door of the coach. “‘Lisa, you okay?” He tried to give Logan James a mean look.

“I’m fine, David.” But my voice was tight and I did not feel fine. Elliot was in trouble and I was torn between staying and talking to this cowboy to learn what I could or continuing on with the stage.

A hot dry wind blew the dust about. I coughed slightly. The sun was directly behind him now and I blinked as I looked up into his eyes. Was the sun blinding me or was it the power of his stare? I only knew I could not let him associate me with Elliot. At least, not until I found out exactly what my brother was accused of and what he had done.

“Well, pretty lady?”

David hovered nearer. But what could he do? His yet unchanged voice challenged the lawman. “If you don’t leave my friend alone, I’ll –”

The man frowned and adjusted the reigns on his restless horse. “Don’t worry none, son. I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to your friend.”

“Come on, David.” I pushed him back in and, doing what I should have done moments ago, I turned abruptly and headed back toward the open stagecoach door, feeling my skirts touching the dust of the road.

The door was slammed behind me, but before the driver could start the horses, Logan James rode up to the window.

“I thought you were in a hurry to find your murderer,” I said.

He smiled at me and, tipping his hat, said, “I am. And I shall find him, since I usually get what I want. We will meet again, Miss ‘Lisa. We will meet soon.” I quickly pulled down the shade in his face.

Mrs. Germinadi gasped at my rudeness, but the man deserved more than just a slammed shade.

My heart pounded as the coach pulled away. I could feel the sweat on my brow. The elderly gent stared at me and silently he handed me a canteen. “I don’t want any water.”

“This isn’t water, miss.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded — even though I didn’t want anyone to see my nervousness, I took the man’s canteen and felt the sweat of his hand. Forcing myself to smile at the fellow, I took a gulp of the drink he handed me and nearly choked as the heat surged through me.

Coughing violently, I felt Mrs. Germinadi’s plump hand pounding my back. “Heavens, man! What did you give her?”

“Only a little scotch."

My face went beet red. This time, I took a long drink from the water canteen. The tepid water was not cooling, but at least it relieved some of the dryness of my throat.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. The breeze on my face told me that the fat lady was fanning me. I wanted to open my eyes and thank her, but I couldn’t. I seemed to have no strength at the moment and felt the hot tears under my lids.

* * *

Elliot had come out West over two years ago to seek his fortune. After our parents died, he had promised he would take care of me, but the little money he had was quickly dissipated. When he heard of the land boom, he decided that we should go West, but he did not want me to join him until he had a home ready for us.

Promising that he would never let any harm come to me, we had bid each other a tearful goodbye at the train station in Chicago. He said he would send for me as soon as everything was ready. Meanwhile, he trusted that I had enough to live on.

I touched my worn silk reticule as the memory returned to me. I had had enough money — but for only a few months.It soon became apparent that I would have to seek a position.

I wrote several letters to Elliot — at his last address. With each mail I hoped for a reply, but none came. His last letter to me — dated in December — had talked of how he loved the land and of the marvelous surprises he had for me. Even as he praised the land and the country he also warned me in the direst of terms how very careful I would have to be when I did come out West.

Careful of what? I had no clue.

He said he did not want me to arrive until he had all in readiness, but promised he would send for me very soon.

Scolding him for not having written me sooner, I quickly replied, telling him of my desperate straits. There had been no answer to that letter or to those that followed. Finally, I was forced to seek a situation.

With my education, teaching had seemed natural, although the only job I could find was as governess to some spoiled youngsters in a huge house on the South Shore of the Lake. The position would have been passable if their father had not wanted ... well, he had not wanted to wed me. That much I knew.

Forced to quit, I took small rooms near the rail station and sold off as much as I could. My existence was meager but it was better than what I had been doing before.

The time came when I knew I must give up waiting and travel to Elliot on my own. Tom Anders, a longtime friend, had insisted I marry him. But how could I until I knew what had happened to my brother?

Refusing Tom, I made my decision. With Elliot’s last letter in hand, I went to the telegraph office and informed him that I would be coming by train and then by stage to Ruby City, Nevada Territory — of course, now it was the state of Montana, If he was at all able, I knew Elliot would meet me. If not ... well, I didn’t want to think about the possible reasons for my brother’s long silence. I only knew that I wanted to be with him again and that with my money dwindling fast, it was imperative I leave Chicago.

* * *

The jerking of the coach brought me back to reality.

What was I going to do? I didn’t know whether I was more worried about myself — and the fact that I had counted on Elliot being there to greet me, to help me and get settled in our home, and provide for me, as he had promised our dying mother — or about Elliot’s obvious problem.

My poor brother. What had happened to the big find he had written of? What had happened to him? At all costs I was going to find out where he was and clear his name — even if it meant dealing again with Mr. Logan James.

A shudder went through me as I thought again of Logan James and in my mind’s eye, saw his startling blue eyes staring down at me. Clenching my fists, I renewed my vows. Yes, I would help my brother — even at the cost of taking on Logan James.

We had one more stage stop to change horses before we were to arrive in Ruby City by early evening. Even as we washed our faces in the stream flowing nearby, I found myself thinking of Logan James and wondering about his connection to my brother.

With aching joints and a worried countenance, I reboarded the stage and noticed that we had a seventh passenger. Riding atop with the driver was Clay Washburne, the sheriff. Of course, I hadn’t known his name earlier, and only realized he was the sheriff when I saw the gold star on his lapel.

Tipping his hat, he stared at me for a moment before nodding. Did he see the similarities between me and Elliot? I prayed not. I still did not believe my brother could have killed anyone, and certainly not a government agent.

As I leaned back against the cracked leather seat, I tried not to think of my fears and tried instead to study the mountains and valleys which seemed to surround us. Indeed, for most of the journey I could see why he had loved the land out here, these wide open spaces the snow-capped mountains towering over us like guardian angels, and the crisp clean air. As the road rose again toward the town perched as it was in the shadow of one of these giants, I pulled my cape closer about me and felt the chill of the approaching evening.

I really had no desire to see Ruby City or spend much time in it. From what Elliot had said it was a town that had been and gone. Set up as a tent city during the mine rush, it had grown to a fair size with people coming from all over to make claims. But when the mines gave out and dwindled, the number of people had dwindled too. It seemed only those die-hard miners who still believed there was gold in the hills, only the ranchers who valued the land for their cattle, and the cowboys who worked for them, and the squatters who demanded their farming rights under the Homesteader’s Act remained. Houses, once grand passions, now were rotting ghosts. I prayed they were the only ghosts I’d see.

By the time the stage reached its destination of Ruby City, I was totally exhausted. Nevertheless, I was glad to have arrived at last. Soon the mystery of the past few years would be cleared up and I would see my darling Elliot. I was determined to find my brother as soon as possible and settle into our new home. He had told me he had a place for me, and I was sure he did, or soon would. Even if it was only a lean-to on the plains somewhere, the fact that I would be with him, my own family, was enough for me.

Hugging David and wishing him well, I told him that I would write him when I had settled. Then, accepting the driver’s help, I stepped down and looked around the small town. The stage rumbled on to its next stop.

Directly in front of me was the telegraph office. Next to it stood the general store which also served as the post office. The main street had a few stores, and one or two frame buildings, including the sheriff’s office and jail house. Down a narrow twisted street, I could see stables, a smithy and a few cabins. Wagons dotted the streets, as did saddle horses, tied to the posts in front of the muddied wooden walkway.

“Your case?” Sheriff Washburne said as he handed me my leather-bound possessions, his aged hand touching mine. "Looks mighty fine.” His fingers traced the E.E. on my brass lock. “Yep, mighty fine.”

I shrugged and grabbed my portmanteau from him, forgetting just how heavy it was.

“Tell me, is there no church here?”

“Why sure, ma’am. Just up the street a bit and down toward the next valley. Pretty little thing it is. Right by the mountainside. Built it there so the miners could go pray afore they went in. Course, we don’t have much minin’ here, nowadays.”

“Oh?” I squinted as I put my hand to my brow and looked up into the dying sun. “What do you have here?”

“I’m surprised, ma’am. Would have thought your, uh, cousins would have told ya.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I snapped. “They are my cousins. But as I explained earlier to your men, they don’t know I’m coming.”

He smiled and slid down from the top, hitting the ground with a thud. “I’d rightly guess as they won’t know, neither. Not if you’re plannin’ on spending time here. We’ve not had anyone by that name for quite a spell. Looked it up in the register, I did.”

“Oh.” I flushed. “Then in that case, I shall have to decide what to do.” I continued scanning the street, watching the men walking into the saloon and the rickety hotel just opposite us. The name above it said Janey’s Place. Not many women were in evidence and those who were seemed to be the floozy type, heavy make-up and feathered costumes, ancient faces that had seen better days. Like them, the building was in sorry need of repairs. In fact, the whole town seemed to live in the shadow of its former self.

I frowned. I had hoped that I would find some companionship here; I hoped, too, that Elliot would indeed meet me at the stage. But then, if he was a wanted man, as the sheriff said, I couldn’t very well expect him to walk right up to me. Not with the law standing right here.

“You’ll excuse me, sir.” I took my bag from him and walked into the telegraph office.

The office was small containing only an uneven surface and a barred window. No one seemed to inside the inner office.

“Hello?” I called out, trying to peer inside the telegraph room. “Is anyone there?”

“Yeah, honey, I’m comin’.” The plump elderly lady slammed the back door, shaking the whole building, smiled and plunked her huge body down on the stool opposite me. Her whole face was framed by the bars of the window. “Now, what can I do for you, child?”

I flushed. It had been a long time since anyone had called me “child.”

“Well? I ain’t got all day. You got a message you want to send?”

I shook my head. “I ... I was just wondering ... I sent a telegram here about
—” I had to think back and realized I had traveled nearly a whole week to get here. “— two weeks ago to Elliot Edwards. Do you know if he received it?”

“Edward? Edward?” She mumbled to herself as she flipped through a pile of yellow envelopes. “Nope, no Edwards here.” She peered through the window again.

“Said you send it two weeks ago?”

I nodded. “Elliot Edwards.” I paused ... “Or perhaps, Edward Elliot.”

Frowning, she rolled up the desk top and my eyes widened as I saw all the paper there. I wondered how anyone found anything in that mess! But she seemed to know what she was doing and went directly to one of thepigeonholes. Flipping through more envelopes, she shook her head. “Nope. Sorry, dearie.”

“Does that mean he picked it up?” A note of hope crept into my voice as I prayed that my worst suspicions weren’t going to be confirmed.

“Can’t say that he did. Can’t say that he didn’t, missy. Just know it’s not there. Chances are that he did, though to confess, I haven’t seen the lad ‘round for some time. Maybe he had someone else come pick it up.”

“Do you know Mr ... Elliot?”

“Know most of the folks in this town. Leastwise, those that stay a spell. In the beginning, he used t’come in, chat me up, you know, like I was his best girl.” She grinned and coyly touched her gray bun.

“Who else might have picked up the telegram?” I asked, eager for any information which would lead me to my brother.

She shook her head and wisps of graying hair escaped from the bun. “Don’t rightly know. He were keeping company with Drucilla, one of the girls in the hall,” she shrugged, “but that were some time ago.”

“Oh.” I drew back. I’m sure the disappointment was evident on my face.

“Something wrong, honeybunch?”

I sighed and looked out toward the street. It was getting dark and soon I would hardly be able to see anything. Just as I thought that, the old lady adjusted the kerosene lamp brighter. I studied her a moment, not knowing who to trust in this town.

But what was I going to do? I had come out here, all this way, to be with my brother and now that I was here, it seemed I was still alone.

Gingerly, I touched my reticule. I had only $50 to my name and with the prices out here in the west wasn’t going to last me long.

“You care for a cup of tea? Got the water boilin’. Sure does get cold in here sometimes, and who knows when in tarnation that darned machine’s gonna go off. When it starts clicking away,” she shook her head, “just like a baby crying. Gotta take care of it quick.”

I smiled at her analogy and nodded. “Tea would be nice. I paused. “The food was so horrid at the stage stops that —“

It was then she noticed my case. Why you ain’t hardly been in town none!”

“No, I haven’t. I just arrived and I was supposed to met but —”

She opened the Dutch doors and let me into the inner sanctum. “Don’t you fret none, child. Whoever, supposed t’meet you, he’ll come. These damn men forget ‘bout everything sometimes. And then he’ll come a’rushin’ in and a’beggin’ your forgiveness.” She eyed me as she poured the steaming water into a cup. “He your intended?”

I shook my head, smiling slightly. “My brother.”

“Tarnation!” She held up the lamp to my face, and indicated that I should take off my bonnet. I don’t know why I did, but I did. “Come to think of it, you do look a bit like him. Got the same hair anyway. Though mind, it’s been months since I seen him meself. Like as not, he’s holed up in some mine working his claim.”

“He has a claim!” My heart pounded. I had suspected and hoped that was the case but Elliot had never actually said anything about mining himself. If he had found gold, or some other precious metal then all our worried would be over.

“Rightly so.” She nodded, her huge hand hovering over the milk.

“Yes, please.” I removed my cape and warmed my hands in the small coal stove sitting near the center of the room.

“You think this is cold. Just you wait. We get some real storms here.”

I shrugged and hoped I could find Elliot and move on to a warmer climate before the winter became too severe. I had always hated Chicago winters, and being in this wilderness where the weather was even more damaging didn’t thrill me.

Accepting the tea, I asked her, “What can you tell me about the Edward ... I mean Elliot’s claim?” I hoped she hadn’t caught my slip as I recalled that Elliot had switched around our name. “Where is it —?” I looked up at her.

“Name’s Theora, child. Theora Lewis. Finally got me a man four years ago and then he goes and gets himself killed in some silly gun battle.” She shook her head. “So here I am, mindin’ the store.” She smiled at me and then sat down. The chair creaked with her weight. “Can’t say I know much about Elliot’s claim cuz he’d be filin’ with Ezra Perry over at the bank.”

I looked out again, at the now dark street. Drunken laughter could be heard coming from the saloon.

“Well, it doesn’t look like Edward’s coming for me tonight.” I sipped the tea. “Perhaps I’d better see about getting a room and bath.”

“Only place t’go is ‘Janey’s Place’ cross the street.”

“That isn’t a hotel. It’s a —”

“Sure it is, hon.” She grinned. “Don’t look like much but it’s the only hotel in Ruby City. Course we used to have three, no it were four, good places. Janey’s Place looked lots better in its time, too. But as business fell, so did the places. Now Janey’s Place is about the only hotel left where visitors can stay.”

I frowned and looked out the window again.

“Can’t say as it’s any great shakes, but it’ll do. Now if you were staying for a bit, I’d say Miss Lily’s would do you. But I know for a fact that she ain’t got no vacancy now.”

“I suppose the hotel will have to do,” I sighed.

“That where you’ll be if anyone comes lookin’ fer you?”

I nodded and pulled my cape on. Lifting my case, I headed toward the door.

“Honey. I need t’know yer name. That is if I’m goin’ to be directin’ anyone yer way.”

“Oh. Right.” I paused and looked again toward the empty street. “My name is Elisa Edwards.” I picked up my case. It felt heavier than before, but maybe it was the heavy feeling in my heart.

“Wait just a cotton pickin’. You’re Edward Elliot’s sister? You married?”

I shook my head. “Elliot Edwards ... is my brother’s real name. But for some reason —” I saw her eyes narrow. “— he changed his name. I ... don’t know why.”

“Honeychild, if I were you, I wouldn’t tell anyone that you’re Edward Elliot’s sister. Last I heard he weren’t none too popular.”

I wanted to ask her why and find out what she could tell me, but the machine in the office began clicking rapidly and Theora ran towards it, hastily jotting down notes. Knowing she would be busy for a while. I decided I might as well find a place at the hotel and have something to eat.

The street seemed deserted as I crossed, but I had the strange feeling I was being watched. My stomach tightened as I paused mid-street and turned. In the darkness I could see no one.

I wanted to think it was Elliot, but my gut knew it was not.

Quickening my step, I hurried the rest of the way, only to stop on the wooden steps outside the hotel.

There, coming out of the saloon with two women one on each arm — was Logan James.

His eyes met mine and he dropped the arms of the two ladies as he came forward quickly to meet me. I was thankful that I had replaced my bonnet before leaving the telegraph office.

Deciding I would not allow him to intimidate me as he had done earlier that day, I started to pick up my case again.

“Allow me, ma’am.” He smiled and tipped his hat.

“I can manage on my own.”

“Can you now?” Still smiling, he leaned down and picked up my case despite my protest. “Rather heavy for a delicate young thing like yourself.”

I shrugged.

Seeing that he insisted on carrying the portmanteau and too exhausted to quarrel with him, I made my way into the hotel. He followed, and I couldn’t help but note that his ladies followed after him.

The exterior of the place had indeed seen better days. But as I entered the smoky interior, which served both as the lobby of the hotel and, within the same room but off to the far side, the saloon, I was duly impressed. The lobby was reasonably well-furnished, considering where we were. In Chicago, I had seen better — my favorite being the fabulous Palmer House with its Venetian marble and Egyptian glass. But this was the West and if I intended to stay, I would have to try to accustom myself to less. Not that my life had been opulent, but certainly it seemed to have been more civilized than what I was hearing from the saloon now. The men, sitting around the tables playing cards and puffing on their cigars made more noise than the piano player who attempting to make some sort of music. Sawdust covered the floor; I assumed because it was easier to clean that up than to mop the floors daily. I was certain the women strolling around the tables adorned in little else but their ostrich feathers were not doing any housework.

No one seemed to be available in the hotel section, a carved hardwood extension of the bar and so I waited patiently, touching the marble slab which, if the inscription read right, had also been importedfrom Italy. Several of the mirrors hanging on the wall behind were cracked and in need of cleaning, but it obvious, too, that they had been brought from elsewhere. I glanced at the man at my side and wondered if he’d had anything to do with it.

He grinned at me. And taking my look for an opening he said. “You gonna wait all day. Miss ... uh ... Baxter?”

I flushed.

“That’s not my name. I said my cousins were Baxter.

“Oh. And just what do I call you, pretty lady?”

“Nothing.” I snapped. I pounded irritably on the bell which I had only just noticed.

The gentleman, if you could call him that, who came forward was dressed rather shoddily for a hotel clerk. I pulled back, slightly disgusted. It was impossible not to notice the odor of whiskey on his breath.

“Can I help you?”

His leering smile nauseated me. I didn’t know who was worse — him or Logan James — and I felt trapped in by these two despicable creatures.

“Yes. I need a room.”

“For how long?” His yellow tobacco-stained teeth flashed as he grinned at me, examining me as if sizing me up.

“I don’t know ... I ... for a night at least.”

He hummed to himself as he looked at his array of keys. “Got a share. Cost you five dollars.”

“A share!” My eyes widened. For the price he was charging, I expected a suite. “Can I have a bath there?”

He shrugged. “Extra fifty cents.”

I frowned. At this rate my money would be gone in no time. “Is this the only hotel in town?”

“The only one.” He reached down and from beneath the counter took a small bottle out. Taking a gulp, he replaced it quickly, and then gave me a big smile so that the smell of his whiskey permeated the air around me.

“You do have a choice, pretty lady.”

“What’s that?” I asked, turning momentarily.

“You could room with me.”

I glared at him and opened up my reticule. “I will take that share. Please have someone bring me up a bath and hot water.” I placed a five dollar bill and two bits on the counter, hearing the hollow vibrations as they touched the fragile wood.

The clerk nodded and handed me a key. “Up the stairs and to the right.”

“Will someone bring up my luggage?”

There was a moment’s pause before the clerk responded. “Sure. I’ll get someone.”

I scrawled my name on the ledger he handed me and, taking the key, hurried up the stairs, feeling the blue eyes of Logan James following me.

By Shira Stevens

(aka Serita Stevens