“But I must—”
“Now, miss,” said the clerk patiently, “you can wait at the hotel or boardinghouse.Ain’t no one going to rent you a horse or buggy to travel alone to Rushton or the Circle R, not these days.”
Shea set down her valise in disgust, and her fingers tightly gripped the art case she held at her side.
When she’d decided to come West, she’d sold everything back home.She’d made her decision, and it meant she had to leave the past behind.
That past was a lie that seemed to undermine everything she’d ever believed.She had always accepted life as it came, had always been able to meet it on its own terms, but now …
She didn’t even know who she was.It left her vulnerable, afraid, when she’d never been afraid before.Everything she knew, believed in, was unreal, and she didn’t know how or why.
But she knew she had to find out.
She had looked at the clipping so many times.Looked at her father.How many times had she wished for a father?Dreamed of having one?But for some reason her mother had kept him away from her, and her away from him.
And every time she looked at the piece of newspaper, she also saw the man her father helped convict.A thief and perhaps even a traitor.
He hadn’t looked like a thief, not from the sketch.His face was strong and arresting, and she was struck by the contradiction between the strength she saw there and the charge.She wondered whether there could be extenuating circumstances.A Reb fighting in his own way for his cause?But then why had he kept some of the money?
It was a riddle she would never solve, but perhaps she could solve the one of her father.
Why, dear God, had her mother lied to her?Shea had considered a number of reasons.Perhaps Sara Randall had hated the West, or perhaps she and her husband hadn’t been able to live together.
The more Shea wondered, the more she needed answers.The only way she could get them was by going to the source, but that was frightening.Had her father not wanted her?Had he not known about her?Would he believe her?Every time she considered the trip, she felt herself shiver with both anticipation and misgiving.Did she really want to know the answers?She wasn’t sure.What she did know was shehadto find answers.
She tucked a falling lock of hair under her bonnet as she glared at the clerk, wishing for one of the rare times she looked more intimidating.
She had a pleasant enough face, but certainly not one that sent hearts afluttering.Everything about her was ordinary.Plain brown hair with remarkably little curl.Blue-gray eyes, which were wider than she would have preferred, although people often said they were her best feature.She’d never cared overmuch about clothes, preferring reading and drawing to fussing over appearances.
Serenity was her most distinctive attribute, her mother had often said.And because that quality seemed to please her mother, the person she loved most, she quieted the hunger inside her for adventure.
But her mother had been wrong.Serenity indicated a lack of passion, and Shea was passionate about many things.She was fiercely protective of those people and things she loved and felt deeply about injustice.She just kept those feelings to herself, hiding them under a cloak of surface practicality.They were too personal to share with others, even her mother.
But now serenity was getting her no place.Neither was impatience nor passion.
She glared again at the clerk.A week seemed a year.She tried to explain.“My name is Randall.I … have to get to Jack Randall’s ranch.”
The stationmaster’s face softened.“You kin?”
Shea wasn’t sure what to say.She had blurted out the previous information mostly from frustration.Her father may not even know about her.Or believe her.Or maybe there had been some terrible mistake.But the Randall name seemed to have an effect, and she obviously needed an effect.
She lifted her chin.“His daughter.”
“Well, jumpin’ guns, I didn’t know Mr.Randall had a daughter.”
“I’ve been back East,” she said.
“Well, wish I could help you, Miss Randall, but that don’t change nothing.”
She felt the tension behind her eyes magnify.Almost blindly, she reached down for her valise and turned toward the door.She had to find a way.
She reached the porch outside and paused, trying to decide what to do next, when a man came out the door.She had barely noticed him inside, a tall man leaning against a wall.
“Miss Randall?”he said, taking his hat from his head in a gesture of courtesy.
She nodded.
“I heard you say you wanted to go to the Circle R.Perhaps I can help.”
