Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Granger began to perspire. "I will inform the man to work closely with Mr. Stewart and offer any help he can."
"And not to interfere," James added.
Granger nodded his agreement.
"Good," James concluded. "Now if you will excuse us, we have business to discuss."
James knew his curt dismissal of Granger was not to the man's liking, but he reacted as he knew he must and left.
"Now, Zac, we've wasted enough time. I want my daughter back as soon as possible and with as little scandal as possible."
"Believe me, James, I want the same thing. I can't wait to have this task over and done with."
Prudence felt relieved as she stepped off the stagecoach in Wells City, Kansas. Her body ached from the rough ride. She was certain the driver had intentionally hit every rut and rock on their journey here. Her linen duster was covered with a film of dust and her dry mouth longed for a cool, quenching drink.
Her traveling experience had started out rather well, but the further west she journeyed the less she saw of civilization. At least civilization as she was accustomed to it. The land itself possessed a raw, untouched beauty. She admired the changing landscape, and the cultural differences fascinated her.
Her first sight of a savage took her by surprise. She hadn't expected to see an Indian amongst white people or dressed in white man's clothes. Prudence had thought all the heathens were restricted to the reservations, but she learned quickly from her traveling companions and her own insights that there were those who worked for the U.S. Army as scouts and were free to come and go as they pleased. Then there were the Indian women who were married to white men. Prudence found that they were not accepted by polite society, and she kept her distance until she could ascertain for herself their status in the Western culture.
She didn't think it was possible to feel as fatigued as she did. Her traveling bag was placed on the ground with the others and Prudence eyed it woefully. She wasn't certain her arms could lift it, but experience had taught her to retrieve her bag as soon as possible, since at the last coach stop one of the passengers had been lax in securing his bag and someone had walked off with it. She reached for her satchel and picked it up. Her sore arm muscles protested in pain.
"Don't complain, Prudence Agatha," she scolded herself in a whisper. "This is what you wanted."
She stepped up on the wooden boardwalk that ran the length of the buildings down the street. Not that there were many. Six in all, Prudence got from a fast count. She brushed the dust from her linen duster as best she could and coughed from the particles of dry dirt that floated around her. She adjusted her bonnet, which had tipped to the side, and secured the white silk ribbon beneath her chin. Clapping the dust from her gray gloves, she walked into the coach station office.
The office was small, and the shadows of the late afternoon sun were not dispelled by the small amount of light that came through the open door. Two benches sat against one wall, while the other wall was occupied by the usual ticket counter and cage. Prudence approached, ready with her query.
The man behind the iron bars, where the tickets could be purchased, smiled at her question. Then his face split into a wide grin. "Sadie? You’re here to see Sadie?"
"Yes, that's correct," she answered, thinking the man slow-witted. "I don't know her last name, but I was told to ask for Sadie. Someone would know her."
"Everyone knows Sadie, miss," the man grinned. "You’re here to work for her?"
Prudence, fearing her reply might make a difference, said, "Possibly."
The man's face brightened even further. He ran his hand back over his unkempt brown hair and across his mouth. "Sadie's place is the fourth building down on your right."
"Thank you, sir," Prudence said with a pleasant smile, and turned to leave.
"Miss?"
Prudence turned around. "Yes?"
"I’ll see you at Sadie's."
Prudence nodded, still thinking the man witless, and walked out of the office. She counted the buildings as she passed them and came to a stop at the fourth, a bit puzzled.
"A saloon?" she whispered. Had the man given her the wrong directions? She glanced up at the sign. The Devil's Den.
Prudence shook her head. Could her mother have possibly known a woman of such ill repute? Or worse, could her mother have turned into such a woman herself? Fear never entered her mind, only curiosity. With no thought as to her actions, she pushed at the swinging doors of the Devil's Den and marched inside.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The late afternoon sun streamed through the front windows, casting a glare across parts of the room and leaving the rest in the shadows. There weren't many customers about. Two men sat at one of the round tables near the rear while three others stood at the bar, drinking. The other tables, about eight in all, were empty and a piano stood silent against the far wall.