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“That’s good to know. Thank you.”
While Mr. Miller stoked the pot-bellied stove and made a pot of coffee, Rena browsed around the store. Her gaze lingered on a bolt of brocade peach taffeta. She hadn’t worn a dress in two years, and none that she’d owned had been created from such costly, beautiful fabric. A girl like her had no business dreaming about expensive things. It wouldn’t matter how she dressed, anyway. Not now. She could look like a queen, and it wouldn’t do her a bit of good.
No man would ever want her, and she’d arrived at the point she no longer cared. Who needed love with all the anxiety and heartache that went along with it?
Rena had gotten along well enough on her own. The thought of a man bossing her around, telling her what to do and when to do it, made her balk at the very notion of it. She preferred to remain alone and independent than relinquish her freedom.
Which was precisely the reason she was heading to Holiday to see her cousin. She held high hopes she could start over there without the past dogging her every faltering step. Theo had even hinted in his last letter that he might have a job lined up for her at the mine where he worked.
Rena filled a tin with crackers from the barrel in the store. When she took the crackers to the front counter, Mr. Miller handed her a cup of hot coffee that was the best thing she’d tasted since she’d left Amarillo. While he cut the wedge of cheese she’d requested, Rena sipped the strong, black brew and looked through a display of gloves. A pair of work gloves, made of the softest leather, fit her hands to perfection. She dearly wanted the gloves, but the price forced her to return them to the shelf.
As she finished the cup of coffee, she added dried apples, a tablet with a pencil, and a sack of assorted penny candy to her purchases.
“Is there a place in town where I could buy feed for my mule? I don’t want to start up the mountain before he’s properly fed and watered.”
“Sure. Head over to Milt’s Livery. He’s honest and fair and will take good care of your mule. If you’re looking for a meal, the bakery should be open by now, or there are a few restaurants, but you’ll get more food for less expense at the bakery. You could go there while Milt sees to your mule.”
Rena nodded, hoping Mr. Miller couldn’t hear the gnawing roar of hunger in her empty belly. She’d run out of food yesterday morning and decided she could do without until they arrived in Baker City. Now that they were here, she really should get something to eat, or she might be too weak to journey onward.
When the store owner gave her the total for her purchases, she took money from her pocket and counted it out to the penny.
“I hope you have a safe trip to Holiday, Miss Burke. Just be sure you don’t travel at night. There are bears in the mountains and cougars in the hills, not to mention a few unsavory types who wouldn’t be above waylaying anyone they see traveling alone.”
Surprised by his words of caution, she intended to heed his warning. Old Scout wouldn’t stand a chance against a bear or cougar. The crotchety fella was half afraid of cats as it was. Rena could shoot anyone who bothered her, but she’d rather not get into a situation where defending herself was necessary.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Miller.” She nodded to him in gratitude. “Thank you for the advice and the coffee.”
“You’re welcome. Come back anytime.” Mr. Miller waved as she carried her purchases outside, stowed them in her saddlebags, and then led Scout up the street in the direction the store owner had indicated she’d find the livery.
She crossed a side street and saw the sign for the livery just ahead.
“Mornin’,” a beefy-armed man said as she stepped inside. “Can I help you with something?”
“I was hoping to buy a little feed for my mule and give him a place to rest for about an hour.” Rena glanced around the livery as her eyes adjusted from being out in the sunlight to the darker interior that smelled of hay and horses. At a glance, the place appeared clean and orderly, showing the owner took pride in the upkeep of his business. Assured she was about to leave Scout in good hands, she loosened her tight grip on the reins.
“I’d be happy to help you with that, miss.” He told her what he’d charge, then motioned toward an empty stall. “I about forgot my manners, miss. I’m Milt Owens, and this is my livery. Haven’t seen you around Baker City before.”
“I’m just passing through,” Rena said, leading Scout into a stall that had fresh straw on the floor and a bucket full of clear water. Scout sniffed the water, then took a long drink.
“Where you heading?” Mr. Owens asked as he filled a shallow pan with feed and set it inside the stall. Scout didn’t waste any time in tasting it.
Rena ignored his question and motioned to her mule. “Thank you for seeing to Scout, sir.”
“My pleasure.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “If you need a meal, I recommend the bakery. They have the best cinnamon buns I’ve ever tasted.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Owens. Mr. Miller at the mercantile also recommended the bakery. Thank you again for keeping an eye on Scout.” Rena hated to be apart from Scout, but she was starving. The mention of cinnamon buns made her mouth water. At the rate she was going, she’d start to slobber, and someone would assume she’d gone rabid and threaten to put her out of her misery.
Before she changed her mind, she nodded once to Mr. Owens, marched out the door, and headed back in the direction she’d come. She turned at the corner and pulled up short before she plowed right over one of the most fashionable women she’d ever seen. Thick, dark hair was stylishly arranged beneath a hat that matched a glorious gown in a deep shade of raspberry pink. The woman’s skin was flawless, her eyes bright, and her smile wide as she studied Rena.
“Good morning,” the woman spoke in a soft, friendly tone.
“Good morning,” Rena said, wishing she could look even a smidgen as elegant as the woman. “I apologize for not watching where I was going.”
Much to her dismay and mortification, Rena’s stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. The heat of embarrassment seared her cheeks. She had to force herself not to duck her head and run off.
The woman’s smile widened. “Were you on your way to the bakery, by chance?”
“I was. Mr. Miller at the mercantile and Mr. Owens at the livery both recommended it.”
