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“Montana and Wyoming. And before that Canada.”
“My. And how long will you be here?”
“Not sure. I’m getting kind of tired of pulling up stakes and starting over. So who knows, I may stick around for a while. That okay with you?”
Portia wanted to say it didn’t matter but found herself nodding instead.
“Good,” he replied with a smile. He’d finished his food. “I’m going to take this plate back inside. Thanks for the company, Duchess.”
She watched him get to his feet, and as he walked away, she wanted to call him back. She’d enjoyed conversing with him and learning just a bit more about him. She also enjoyed their bantering. He was right about not many men being able to make her smile and yet she did with him. That he hadn’t wanted her to be the subject of gossip pleased her. Her mother had had no reputation to speak of. Those who knew her called her Corinne the Whore, as if it was the name she’d been born with. One of Portia’s most painful memories was being with her mother one day on the streets of Denver. She couldn’t have been more than nine or ten, but old enough to know how her mother made her living. She didn’t remember where they were going or why, but watching her mother be verbally confronted by another woman was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. The woman screamed at her mother for entertaining her husband and said Corinne was going straight to hell. She then leaned down to Portia and snapped, “And you’re going to be a nasty little whore, too!” Portia remembered her terror and trying to shrink into herself so the raging woman would leave her be. Corinne finally snatched Portia by the hand and stalked away. Tears running down her face, Portia had hurried to keep up, all the while vowing never to be a whore or anything else that would allow anyone to make her feel so small and dirty again.
“Portia?”
She snapped back to the present. “Yes?”
It was Regan. “Are you okay?”
“Just wool gathering. Did Uncle Rhine find you?”
“Yes. Mrs.Landry just announced the funeral will be this evening, so we’ll be going to the cemetery first and then home.”
“What?” The funeral was supposed to be tomorrow at dusk.
“Reverend Cordell is as surprised as everyone else. Mrs.Landry said she forgot to tell him, but apparently the grave is ready and waiting.” Regan continued to study her as if hoping to discover why Portia had been lost in thought. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
Portia offered a small smile. “I’m sure. When are we leaving for the cemetery?”
“In a few minutes. We’re to meet at the buggy.”
Portia picked up Eddy’s blanket and folded it so it could be carried. “All right. Let’s go.”
After returning from the funeral, Portia took off her hat and walked outside onto the small porch attached to her bedroom. Taking a seat on the padded bench, she drew in a deep breath of the cool night air and looked up at the star-filled sky. She would miss Mr.Blanchard. He’d lived a long full life and she hoped he would rest in peace. As she savored the silence, the tension of the day melted away. Off in the distance came the familiar high pitched call of a coyote. She loved the night but it had taken moving to Virginia City to do so. Nights in Denver with Corinne had been filled with constant footfalls and the sounds of the old front door opening and closing as her mother plied her trade. Portia and Regan slept on a rag-filled pallet on the back stoop, which also doubled as her mother’s waiting area, so it was not unusual for them to be startled awake by a strange man standing nearby. But in Virginia City there’d been no rag-filled pallets or strange men, just the velvet night and the low-voiced hum of the mining machines. Jim Dade taught them the names of the stars and Rhine let them use his spyglass to take a closer look. She and Regan often sat out at night giggling and talking. Eddy hadn’t minded as long as their school work was done and they were up fresh and ready for lessons with their tutor the following morning. After the mob that burned their house made it impossible for them to remain in Nevada, she’d been afraid of the darkness and had nightmares for weeks, but eventually they passed and her connection to the night reestablished itself and again brought her peace.
Now however it was the disturbance of her daytime peace that worried her. Everything about Kent Randolph left her unsettled. Everything from his intense dark eyes to his beard-shrouded jaw was making her second-guess all she thought she knew about men and women, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed. On the one hand, it was best to nip this growing flirtation in the bud, but on the other hand, a seemingly uncontrollable curiosity about where it might lead was gaining strength. She hated to admit it but she was no match for him in this. Eddy called him a cat house king, which of course meant he had much more experience with women than she would ever have with men. And as the daughter of a prostitute, she wasn’t sure how she should feel knowing he’d patronized such establishments. That he was unmarried certainly made her feel better. Whenever her mother’s married customers encountered Corinne on the streets or in shops, they went out of their way to avoid eye contact while the well-dressed women on their arms acted as if they’d catch the plague having to breathe the same air. Looking back, it had been an awful life but she was an adult now, her circumstances were radically different, and she had no business judging anything or anyone. The issue with Kent would eventually resolve itself, so putting him and the conundrum he created out of her mind for the moment, she left the bench and went inside to prepare for bed.
