She found the boarding house he’d suggested easily enough, and he paused across the road when she entered. He could hardly follow her inside an establishment only for ladies. Settling himself in for a wait of indeterminate time, Mark wondered if now might be the best opportunity he had to send a telegram to Montgomery’s man, informing him of his employer’s daughter’s precise whereabouts. But not more than a minute after he’d had the thought, Miss Montgomery emerged from the boarding house.
The woman could hardly have had enough time to procure a room and place her valise inside, much less refresh herself or take a rest. Mark bit back a smile as he watched her hurry across the road toward him. He stepped back into the entry of an empty shorefront, but he needn’t have feared. She strode by him, eyes forward, as if on a mission.
Leaving his post, Mark hurried after her. Where in the world could she be going? Wherever it was, she must be certain of her destination, as she didn’t hesitate even a half-second to reassure herself of her location.
As far as Mr. Montgomery knew—or so he’d relayed to Mark—his daughter had no real reason to be in Cañon City. She’d simply escaped the family home at her first opportunity, purchased a ticket, and boarded a train the following day. Mark didn’t ask why Mr. Montgomery already had a man employed in Baltimore to watch his daughter on the train or why she felt the need to travel thousands of miles from home to a lonesome frontier town.
Some things were best left unknown.
His job was only to inform her father of her whereabouts and to ensure she didn’t fall into anything questionable or dangerous. It didn’t sound too difficult, and the pay was more than Mark had made in any line of work thus far in his life.
But when Miss Montgomery took a sharp left, straight through the doors of Collier’s Saloon, Mark wondered if he’d underestimated the ability of a coddled young woman to find trouble.
Chapter Two
SALOONS, CHARLOTTEdecided, were both repulsive and exciting.
She stood near the doorway, blinking in the sudden shadowy dark of the place. Smoke curled around her as what seemed like a hundred different pipes and cigars filled the air. It wasn’t unlike the dining room in her father’s home in Baltimore, after the ladies excused themselves to the drawing room after dinner. Although she doubted Chester Montgomery had ever hosted such a motley assortment of gentlemen in his home. A couple of them eyed her now with undisguised curiosity, but most were far too engaged in their drink or their card games to pay her any mind.
Emboldened, Charlotte lifted her skirts from the sticky floor and made her way to the barkeep, who stood behind a scarred wooden bar. She waited patiently for him to drop a glass of amber liquid in front of a man who looked as if he could barely keep his eyes open. When the barkeeper’s gaze found her, Charlotte offered him her most generous smile.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said. “I was hoping—”
“What are you drinking?” he asked abruptly. He didn’t return her smile.
“Oh, no thank you. I’m only seeking—”
He slammed an empty glass down on the bar in front of her. Charlotte jumped.
“I wanted to ask—” she started again, but then the man sloshed a few splashes of what she presumed was whiskey into the glass.
He pressed a cork into the bottle, his eyes on her. Perhaps now he would answer her question. “I’m wondering if you might have seen—”
He thrust a hand out, palm up.
Payment. Of course. She ought to have offered that up front. Perhaps she could have saved the man from wasting his whiskey, as she certainly wasn’t about to drink it.
