Pushing away her unpleasant thoughts, Olivia enjoyed the beauty of the flowers growing wildly along the path she followed into the town.
She strode along the sandy trail shadowed by trees. Birds chirped on the treetops and Olivia enjoyed listening to them. Before long, she was in the town.
As usual, the streets rumbled with wagons and buggies. As she was wont to do whenever she visited the town, she took in the sights and sounds of the town with bliss. The surrounding area of the orphanage was usually very quiet, so she welcomed the noisy atmosphere of the main street.
She longed to someday eat at the Swishing Buck hotel, which was one of the storied buildings in the town. The others were a brothel, an inn, and a saloon.
Olivia immediately shifted her gaze from the saloon’s balcony, where several women in colorful, amorous dresses and painted dresses reclined, smoking cigars.
The aroma of baked goods assailed her nostrils as she passed by the bakery with its shiny plate glass window. She sighted several pastries on display and wished she had some money to buy some rolls for Annie. She was certain her friend would appreciate it.
Olivia halted in front of one of the dressmaker’s shops and stared at the lovely print dresses on display. A gray bombazine dress particularly caught her eye, and a white lace dress fit for a wedding.
She stood there imagining herself in it for a moment. Someone brushed past her on the busy sidewalk and jolted her from her daydreaming.
Oh, Olivia, you’re becoming a sorry case.
Olivia walked on, hoping that one day she would be able to purchase lovely dresses for herself. Not that she was vain or anything, but she felt it would be nice to wear her own clothes rather than hand-me-downs.
Raucous laughter sounded from the Broken Arrow Saloon. Olivia attempted to hurry past the place. Hoots from the drunken men slouching by the double doors had embarrassed her the last time she passed there.
Olivia couldn’t say what made her look in the direction of the saloon when she was trying to avoid the men. Her hurried steps came to a stop the instant she caught sight of a man who looked familiar.
Her blood froze when she recognized the man as the leader of the gang who had raided her Indian village. Her eyes narrowed when the cowboy, standing with other inebriated men, winked at her as a lazy grin spread across his face.
Without taking a moment to think about it, Olivia forced her numb legs into motion toward the man.
She knew the moment the man recognized her. His blue eyes widened and a frown contorted his tanned face.
Olivia peered at his face to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. The small scar in the shape of a curve at the man’s jaw told her she had the right man. And what was more, he had on the same clothes as on the day of the raid.
The stained brown shirt, black trousers, and dirty black boots were all the same.
The other men whistled and surrounded her. The stench of alcohol and tobacco assailed her nostrils. Olivia took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, fighting the urge to retch at the foul smell.
“I remember you,” she said tentatively. “You’re the leader of the gang that raided my Indian village.”
At her words, the men who had hereto surrounded her slightly moved back.
“What in Sam Hill is she talking about?” one of the men asked.
The leader of the gang simply shrugged. “How should I know? The sun is quite hot in its intensity. I’spose it has gotten to her head.”
The men burst into laughter, clearly dismissing her as someone addlebrained.
Reddening, Olivia tightly said, “You can deny it all you want, but I know you led some men deep into the forest to attack my village and kill my people.”
Olivia’s chest beat rapidly against her chest when the man stiffened and his face hardened.
“Who are your people?” one of the men slurred.
“Standing Tree’s people. Cheyenne Indians,” she said with both pride and pain as they were no more.
The men looked at one another and then engulfed in loud laughter.
“Woman, you must be crazy to call Cheyenne Indians your people.”
“Somebody fetch her a mirror.”
