Soon, the coffee was boiling, and I started to make breakfast. Sam helped as Father appeared, followed by the children. There was a lot of explaining to do about the window, but no one seemed too concerned. Sam downplayed the whole thing.
“But,” Sam added, “if it wasn’t for Paddy, we might have lost another hotel.”
“Where is Paddy?” Father asked as he filled a coffee cup.
“Probably sleeping.” I laid several rashers of bacon onto the griddle. “I’m sure he’s tired from all the hard work he did last night.” I didn’t mention that he had gone to watch the executions.
We continued to prepare breakfast, but Paddy still didn’t come out of his room.
“Perhaps he left before we got up,” Sam said as he walked to the bedroom door and opened it. “He’s not in his bed.”
We planned to open that evening for supper. After we finished breakfast, Father took the children out for the morning, so they wouldn’t be underfoot. As I dusted the tables in the dining room, a man entered the hotel, and I immediately recognized him as the businessman from Clay Street who had been part of the vigilantecommittee the night before. He removed his hat, his face serious. “Mrs. Kendal?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Preston Ayres.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ayres. Unfortunately, we’re not open quite yet.”
“I’m not here as a customer. I’d like to speak to Mr. Kendal, if I may.”
Sam must have heard his arrival because he came out of the kitchen, where he was patching the window until we could get a replacement.
“Mr. Ayres,” Sam said, a slight frown on his face. “What can I do for you?”
Mr. Ayres glanced between us, concern in his brow. “I came about Paddy.”
“What about Paddy?” Sam asked as he came to my side.
“I don’t know how to say this. He was found this morning, not too far away from where we hanged the Ducks last night.”
“Found?”
“Dead, I’m afraid.”
My lips parted as shock passed through me.
“What?” Sam frowned. “How?”
“People thought he drank too much and that he was passed out next to one of the buildings facing the bay.” Mr. Ayres gripped his hat. “But when someone tried to rouse him this morning, there was no scent of alcohol on him. No evidence of foul play, either.” He shrugged. “He just died in his sleep.”
My gaze collided with Sam’s, and my breath caught.
“We brought his body here. Didn’t know where else to take him. The men brought him to the back.”
“You did the right thing.” Sam nodded. “If you could take him to his room next to the kitchen, we’d be obliged.”
“Sure.” Mr. Ayres put his hat back on and tipped it to me. “Mrs. Kendal.”
I tried to smile my thanks, but I couldn’t think straight.
Was Paddy a time-crosser?
Several men brought Paddy’s body into the hotel and laid him on the bed, then they left silently.
Without a word, Sam rolled Paddy onto his front and moved aside his hair.
And there was a time-crossing mark.
