“Neither.” He kicked the door shut with his boot, wondering why he always came back here. The old woman never gave him a moment’s peace, and her cooking could kill a man. “You got a room, Maggie? And some hot water?”

“You got a dollar?” She held out her thin hand.

When Jake dropped a coin into it, she tested it with the few good teeth she had left. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jake. She did. She just didn’t trust the United States government. “Might as well take the one you had before. No one’s in it.”

“Fine.” He started up the steps.

“Ain’t had too much excitement since you left.

Couple drifters shot each other over at the Bird Cage. Worthless pair, the both of them. Only one dead, though. Sheriff sent the other on his way after the doc patched him up. Young Mary Sue Brody got herself in trouble with that Mitchell boy. Always said she was a fast thing, that Mary Sue. Had a right proper wedding, though. Just last month.”

Jake kept walking, but that didn’t stop Maggie. One of the privileges in running a rooming house was giving and receiving gossip.

“What a shame about old Matt Conway.”

That stopped him. He turned. Maggie was still at the base of the steps, using the edge of her apron to swipe halfheartedly at the dust on the banister. “What about Matt Conway?”

“Got himself killed in that worthless mine of his.

A cave-in. Buried him the day before yesterday.”

Chapter Two

The heat was murderous. A plume of thin yellow dust rose each time a rider passed, then hung there to clog the still air. Sarah longed for a long, cool drink and a seat in the shade. From the looks of things, there wasn’t a place in town where a lady could go to find such amenities. Even if there were, she was afraid to leave her trunks on the side of the road and risk missing her father.