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He’d changed his surname with his change in careers. The absence of one entirely was unusual and piqued his curiosity. He knew some of her story. One day, he’d love to hear the rest.

“The injured woman?”Seth asked, sticking to the matter at hand. “Is she up to a few questions?”

Her smooth auburn brows furrowed with concern. “Can it wait until tomorrow? She has taken something for the pain, and I’d hate to disturb her while she’s resting.”

“I can come back,”he agreed.

“In the meantime, how about a drink on the house?”Sneed suggested.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m on duty.”

“Another time, then,”the saloon owner replied, gesturing toward the door, clearly eager for him to leave. He added, trying to downplay the incident, “You’re new in town, but you’ll soon find out that shootings happen day and night in Laramie, especially on this side of town.”

“That’s what the town council hired me to fix. Not only is it unlawful, it makes it difficult to attract new residents and businesses. I’ll return tomorrow before opening to talk to the woman involved and any other witnesses.”

With a last assessing glance at Charlotte, who had given no sign she recognized him, he adjusted his hat and quietly walked out. When the doors swung shut behind him, his boot heels striking the planks on the porch echoed twice before the piano player resumed his off-key banging.

***

After excusing herself with the excuse of checkingonPrue, Charlotte climbed the stairs at a steady, unhurried pace.

Inside, she was a jumble of nerves and panic.

When she reached the second-floor landing, she raced to her room.

With shaking hands, standing on legs limp like noodles, she locked the door and slumped against the smooth wood panel.

Seeing her rescuer after so long, not to mention across three states and nearly 900 miles, had been a shock. Despite years of learning to contain her emotions, she’d almost given herself away.

When she thought of that awful night, which often intruded on her peace of mind, she always remembered his kindness.

Did he recognize the naked, abused girl he’d rescued from the burning attic?

The same girl they’d wanted for questioning and searched the city for a month or more to find.

And what about Augustine? He’d never been mentioned in any of the newspapers, but he was severely injured.

What if he had died? Did her face adornwanted postersnext to vicious outlaws and gunfighters on the sheriff’s jailhouse wall?

Images of her hero hauling her to jail in shackles appeared in her mind.

The vision shifted to a courtroom with a judge in black robes and a twelve-man jury all staring at her in the witness chair.

When asked about her remorse for the man whom she’d burned horribly in the fire, she denied it.

In the same situation, she’d bash him on the head with a lit oil lamp again.

Angry shouts of“guilty”and“hang her!”rang in her ears. The vision quickly shifted to a cold, spartan prison cell. Through the bars on the window, she could see gallows. Charlotte’s hands flew to her throat, feeling the rough, scratchy rope tightening around her neck.

In a voice barely audible, she asked of her empty room, “As a girl of nineteen, what could I have done to deserve such a fate? Isn’t a lifetime of punishment enoughforwhatever I did? If not, I don’t think I can bear more!”

With a hitching breath, she slid down the door to the floor.

She would have cried, which might have helped, but she was dry-eyed, as she’d been since the long-ago day when she’d lost her husband—shot down in cold blood by a ruthless, unfeeling son of a bitch.

That had only been the beginning of the emotional upheaval and physical hardships she would face.

Tears were a waste of time and energy, changing nothing.

***

Well past midnight, Seth fumbled with a dozen keys as he searched for the one that would unlock his new home.

When he finally entered and dropped his heavy saddlebags onto the bare wooden floor, the dull thud echoed through the quiet house.

Too exhausted to look for a lamp, he relied on the moonlight seeping through the curtains to find a room with a bed.

He kicked off his boots and removed his dusty clothes.

A bath was in order, but he lacked the energy.

Rather than dirty the linens, he stretched out nakedon top ofthe covers.

It was too warm for even a sheet, anyway.

Grateful for the comfort of a soft bed, a luxury compared to a bedroll on the ground or a hard mattressat the inn, he sighed and closed his eyes.

Expecting to fall asleep instantly, an hour passed, and he found himself staring into the darkness, unable to quiet his mind.

His thoughts kept circling back to a petite, terrified young woman in a smoke and flame-filled attic, a vision that had haunted him.

Seth couldn’t imagine the hardships she’d endured since St. Louis.

The violence that surrounded her—assaults and gunfire—combined with the company she kept made for a turbulent life.

Tonight, when she’d stood up to him, strong and determined, her eyes had the same haunted look as when they first met.

While her experiences may have left scars on her heart and mind, he was glad they hadn’t dampened her spirit.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she ever had lighthearted moments, smiled, or laughed.

What would she be like outside the saloon?

Maybe at a picnic or a barn dance with food, music, and laughter.

The thought of her swaying in his arms, her soft body pressed against his with a gentle smile curving her pink lips, and a spark of joy in her lovely green eyes finally lulled him to sleep.