“It’s the sleeping quarters for the Astral Society meeting,” she says. “We’ve had more confirmations than expected. We’re two beds short.”
I take a breath, steadying myself. “We can shuffle some of the regular guests.”
“And the kitchen,” Mabel adds. “Mrs. Baxter says we haven’t enough ingredients she needs to feed them all.”
“I’ll send Fred into town. Make a list.”
“Right away, Miss Alice.”
She hurries off, leaving me lingering at the stranger’s door, lost in the fog of the last hour.
No time to think. No time to feel.
There’s far too much to do.
Chapter 3
KODIAK
I’m so goddamn thirsty. Tongue dry as a brick.
Sons of bitches stuck me good. My ribs scream every time I so much as breathe. Back’s no better. Shoulder blades feel like they’ve been used for target practice. Ain’t spilling blood no more, least not fresh, but my body won’t quit reminding me I damn near died.
I’d count myself lucky to be breathing, if not for this iron shackle clamped on my wrist.
Can’t rightly say how I ended up here.
Last thing I recall clear is riding out in the open country heading north from La Grange, Kentucky, where I’d squirreled away saddlebags full of what might’ve been the slickest job I ever pulled. Broad daylight. L&N train hauling near ten thousand in payroll cash.
Took it clean off the rails with two horses and a winch, timed just right on a bend. Only had to kill two—both guards, both armed. No civilians. Clean work. Smart work. The kind you grin about for years.
But I ain’t grinning now.
Thought I’d picked a quiet place to camp. Deep in the scrub, tucked between two ridges. Fire low, horse fed, saddle off. My heart wrenches at the thought of losing that fine animal.
No shout, no warning. Just two shapes outta the dark. Badges, maybe. Maybe just hired guns chasing a payday. Said I was under arrest.
I laughed, I think.
Reached for my iron, but they swarmed me. Lost the gun. Fought barehanded. Might’ve had a chance if they hadn’t brought knives.
Sharp steel. Cold, then hot.
They stabbed me till I stopped fighting. Till the light narrowed down to a pinpoint, and I figured that was it.
But it ain’t.
There’s more story, seems, just ain’t sure what it is yet.
From the racket outside and the creak of boots passing the door, I reckon I’m in a hotel. Question is, who the hell locked me here?
Only clue I got is Alice.
Miss Alice. Miss Alice.
Christ almighty. The staff don’t tire of calling that poor woman’s name, asking her permission to sneeze or spit. Seems she’s the one running the place, and that’s the part I can’t square. She’s been tending me. Stitched me up clean. Keeping the fever down.
Pretty thing. Gentle touch. Tried to keep me easy. If a woman like that’s gone and locked me up, maybe it’s for her own protection, not knowing me from Adam. Maybe her people ran off the bastards who ambushed me and brought me here for mending. If that’s the case, I’ll heal up quick and walk out a free man soon as I can prove I don’t mean her no harm.
