CHAPTER 5

ALEX Gunnison walked back up the dark street, bearing a tray and very conscious of the stranger following him.

The sense of déjà vu was strong. He’d been tracked almost like this right down this very street back in ’79. Except that time it had been bright daylight, the streets crowded with people.

Now it was dark, the streets as close to empty as Leadville streets ever were. That only made the stalking figure seem all the more threatening.

Come closer, friend, Gunnison thought. Come closer and I’ll put this tray into your face with one hand while I go for my pistol with the other.

“Sir, sir, pardon me, sir…”

Gunnison ignored the man.

“If you’ll just let me ask you something…”

Gunnison readied himself to heave the tray. But when he turned, he didn’t do it. The man appeared far more pitiful than threatening. He was old, ragged, and clearly had been down on his luck for many years. He approached Gunnison with a manner much like that of a dog that has been kicked ten too many times.

“Is there something I can do for you, sir?” Gunnison asked.

“Well, if you might, sir, I’m nigh starved, and I smelled your food…”

Gunnison felt a wave of deep pity. No question here that this man’s need was real. It’s a sad old world, Gunnison thought. So many people with so little.

“Are you hungry, sir?”

“Mighty hungry, son. I’m sorry to be bothering you…”

“Sir, I can’t share this food here with you, but…”

A few moments later, the man was walking away, bubbling over with thanks, clutching the money Gunnison had given him. Gunnison watched to make sure he headed not for a saloon but for a cafe. He did.

Gunnison grinned and resumed his journey to the hotel.

Sometimes the best feeling a man could have was to help out his fellow man. Gunnison had double cause to feel good tonight, then. He’d helped first a lonely Englishwoman, and now a pitiful old vagrant.

Saint Gunnison. Brady Kenton would be proud.

*   *   *

He knew something was wrong as soon as he reached the landing on his floor. Pausing, he looked down the hall. It was dark down where his room was, but it looked as if the door might not be fully closed—and he’d left it locked.

Gunnison hesitated, then set the tray down in the hall, quietly, and reached beneath his jacket. No one else was in the hall; there was no noise from his room.

He drew his pistol and advanced slowly toward the door of his room.

It was open, slightly. Gunnison’s heart began to hammer quite hard. He edged down the hall, pistol ready, paused near the door, then wheeled around, pushing the door open the rest of the way with his foot, the pistol held level and ready to fire.

She was gone. The bed was empty. He glanced around, used the mirror to see the parts of the room he couldn’t see otherwise.

She wasn’t hidden under the bed or behind the wardrobe. She had left entirely—and, interestingly, had not taken any of his possessions when she did.

Gunnison holstered his pistol, frowning, concerned.

Why had she fled? Especially considering that she was weak, sick, hungry … and food was on its way?

No way to know. Maybe she really was insane and had fled for no good reason. Maybe there really was a man pursuing her, and she’d been found and forced to run.

Gunnison examined the lock and latch. It was undamaged. Nobody had kicked this door open; she had opened it from the inside.

Gunnison went back out to the hallway and picked up the tray of food. He carried it back to the room and set it on the table. Maybe she would return momentarily.

But she didn’t return. Gunnison eventually took the tray back outside, onto the street. It didn’t take long to find a vagrant; there were plenty of them in Leadville.

“Here you go, friend. Enjoy your meal.” The man was devouring the food with the vigor of a starved mongrel as Gunnison went back up to his room. He extinguished the light, undressed, and went to bed, feeling depressed and oddly worried about Rachel Frye, a virtual stranger to him, yet someone who had managed in mere moments to engage his sympathies. He hoped she was all right.

Gunnison fell asleep wondering if she really could be Brady Kenton’s daughter.