She
expected to be surprised. But she was astonished. No longer the dun colored
settlement she remembered, Rennieville had tripled in size, was now a sprawling
town teeming with noisy transport rigs of all sizes and types. People, young
and old, rough and refined, bustled from one place of enterprise to another. As
she maneuvered the buggy along South Street she passed many saloons and
bordellos, their business already brisk in early afternoon.
Main
Street used to be a pathway that began on an empty prairie, passed nine or ten buildings
and thirty or less homes, and ended between wooded hills rising to the Sangre
de Cristo range. Now it boasted plank walkways on both sides that served a
multitude of storefronts, their colorful business signs protruding above their
doors.
For
her venture into town Diana wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black serge gown,
and despite the heat maintained a glacial facade. She was glad her simple hat
sported a net veil, for she sensed curious stares from everyone she passed. No
doubt they knew who she was with the silver Double R, the ranch brand,
emblazoned on the sides of the buggy.
The
hotel was more than twice its former size and displayed a decorative frieze
below the roof line. The word pompous
lodged in her mind as she stepped onto the boardwalk, her eyes drawn to a sign
that proclaimed in flourishing letters, Rennieville
Grand Hotel. Pompous and arrogant. She turned, collided with a solid body. She
tottered and dropped her reticule..
"Sorry,
ma'am." The man reached for her arms to steady her.
She
pulled away, stepped back. Like a ranch hand after a sweltering day of work, he
stank of sweat and horse; prairie dirt layered his clothes and the saddlebags
slung over his shoulder. He stooped to retrieve her reticule and she lifted her
veil.
He
tipped his hat. “Here ma'am--"
Their
eyes met and his polite half smile vanished. Her heart plummeted with dizzying
speed, her feet lost contact with an earth no longer there. Breath hissing
through her teeth, she snatched her reticule, turned and fled into the hotel.
She
leaned on the door and fought to compose herself, to cast off fear that
descended like a suffocating blanket. It could not be him. He had died two years
ago. She remembered the day Clem told her. A prison break. He'd been hunted down
and killed. And she had wrestled with alternating waves of shock, dismay,
guilt, and relief.
Relief
had won.
With
slow, deliberate steps she crossed the lobby to the desk. Her voice taut, she
requested a room and asked if her brother was in his suite.
"He's
out.” The clerk peered at her through round spectacles. “Did you say Randolph
Rennie is your brother? Then you are--"
“Yes,
I am." She managed to sign the register with a steady hand.
"Miss
Rennie, for you our best room." He snapped his fingers and a boy arrived
to show her the way. She barely noticed climbing two flights of stairs and
walking along a dim hallway. Inside the room her control began to crumble and
her hand shook as she thrust a coin at the boy. The door closed behind him and
she shot to the window.
The
man was gone; a sturdy couple with a cavorting boy now stood on the spot. It
must have been someone with a slight resemblance. Those eyes though, variegated
slate and silver irises, inky pupils widening with--what? Suspicion? Curiosity?
Not recognition. Not that!
But
she remembered his eyes most of all, how he had looked at her with the smoky
passion of a lover, then the crushing contempt of a criminal on his way to
prison.
Deep
breaths. Deep and steady. Panic ebbed; heartbeat steadied. She had important
things to do today and couldn't afford to sit here revisiting her biggest
mistake.
The Wild Rose Press https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/se
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— Cat
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