She needed money and safety. Ideally, she needed to leave the Wyoming Territory. She could coordinate helping her family from somewhere else—somewhere no one was looking for aredheaded Sutcliffe. Even remaining here in Cheyenne was dangerous. She was much too close to Roebuck for comfort.
But where could she go? Even if she found some means to leave, what would she do once she arrived? She’d heard her brothers whispering tales of desperate women, and here she was, on the verge of becoming one herself.
No. Izzy squared her shoulders. She’d beg for crumbs in the street before she became one of those ladies.
She adjusted her skirt, the hem catching the edge of the newspaper that had fallen to the floor earlier. She began to gather it up as she thought through various ways she could earn money. The problem was that every job she could imagine was so very time-consuming and made such a small amount of money. Traveling cost money. And if there was some solution to helping her family, it would be expensive. She’d need to pay for another lawyer—an honest one this time. How many linens would she need to wash to have enough? How many rooms would she have to clean in a hotel?
It would take ages to make up what she’d lost from Mr. Rogers. And that was time Papa and her brothers would spend toiling away in a prison. She needed a good sized amount of money, and she needed it sooner than she could earn it.
Izzy quickly crossed off the idea of obtaining it illegally. It was bad enough that people assumed her family had acted out of greed; she wasn’t about to make it worse. Besides, the very idea of it turned her stomach.
The newspaper crinkled in her hands, and Izzy glanced down at it as a memory rose in the back of her mind. Jumping up, she grabbed the saddle bag from where it hung from a peg on the wall. Rifling through the meager contents, she found the old newspaper she’d bought in Roebuck.
She spread it out on the bed until she found what she was looking for.
The matrimonial advertisements.
Curiosity quickly overcame her hesitance. In no time at all, she was imagining the possibilities. By the time she came to the end of the advertisements, she’d identified six men.
Six men who likely had the means to help her family and who were the ideal distance away. Close enough for reliable mail service, but far enough away that no one would be looking for her. Men who would gladly pay for her to travel to their towns.
Izzy glanced at the floor. She needed more paper.
Chapter Three
CREST STONE, COLORADO
“I suppose this will do.”
Hale Darby arranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression. Most of the time, he liked the people who chose Darby’s Boardinghouse. This gentleman, however, was proving to be an exception.
“It’s the best we can do for today. I’ll inquire at the general store to see if they have any heavier material,” Hale said, as nicely as he possibly could. Mr. Quarles had only arrived at the boardinghouse the night before, and he’d already taken up more of Hale’s time than all of the other guests combined.
“As long as I can sleep past five-thirty.” Quarles pulled at the three layers of drapes Hale had spent the last hour locating and hanging. The man had taken up most of his morning and had caused Hale to beg his sister to go to the depot to meet the woman scheduled to arrive in town.
His bride-to-be.
A shot of fear chased itself straight into Hale’s chest. What had he been thinking when he’d placed that advertisement with Mrs. Gilbert’s mail-order bride service? He must have been out of his mind. Mad with loneliness. Awash with longing. Desperate for—
“Mr. Darby!”
Hale startled at the sound of his name. Quarles looked at him expectantly.
“Yes, I’ll go to the general store later today,” Hale said, ready to be done with this man and his demands. He’d already insisted the washbasin be scrubbed again even though it already sparkled, requested two extra quilts despite the warm nights, complained about the cooking at breakfast, and asked for a litany of other pointless items.
