Page 98 of The Widow and the Wanted

“That ain’t much better,” Boone says.

She beams, as if he has paid her a compliment. “Don’t fret, mister,” she says, jingling the ring of keys at her hip. “I only see to the rooms. Goldie says any man asks after me, she’ll feed him to the hogs.”

He cracks a smile at that.

“This is Boone and Okee,” I say. “Boys, this is Pearl. I used to look after her when she was a little one.”

“How do you do,” Okee says, tipping his hat.

“Now you’re the little one. How ’bout that?” Boone follows.

My smile fades and my hand whips out, jabbing him in the arm. He feigns injury as Pearl and Okee chuckle softly.

We pass through a curtain into a narrower hall, where the noise of the front room softens into something lower and more luxurious. The walls press closer here, hung with gilt-framed mirrors that throw back blurred slices of us as we move—my smoke-stained skirts, Boone’s battered coat, Okee’s grave face beneath the brim of his hat. The air grows warmer.

Behind the closed doors lining the corridor come the unmistakable sounds of the house’s true commerce: a woman’s low moan rising and falling, the rhythmic creak of a bed straining under its burden, a man’s rough grunt, another voice gasping softly in time. A sharp cry pierces the wall to our left, followed by lazy laughter. Farther down, the muffled sounds of rutting pulse behind another door, the headboard knocking a steady beat against the plaster.

None of it quite syncs. The noises overlap in a strange, carnal chorus that makes the narrow hall feel like the air is being drawn out.

“Lively place,” Boone remarks.

I shoot him a warning sideways glance.

Pearl chatters as she walks, unfazed by the noise and too delighted by my presence to hold her tongue.

“You should have seen this place when Goldie first took it. Rats big as pups. Wallpaper peeling off in strips.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “I was left in West Virginia.”

She stops short. “I missed you terribly.”

The sharpness goes out of me at once. “I missed you too, dear.”

“But you’d married a prince.”

“Is that what Mother told you? He was hardly a prince. Just a wealthy, spoiled boy.” The words leave my mouth before I can soften them. I look away. “He died. In battle.”

Pearl’s face falls. “You’re a widow now?”

“She’s a sight more than a widow, miss,” Boone says. “She’s an outlaw.”

I let out a laugh, half amused, half appalled. “I am no such thing.”

“Bona fide gunslinger,” Boone goes on, ignoring me.

Pearl giggles. “Is this your new beau? I like him.”

Before I can answer, Boone says, “We both look after her.”

“Oh my,” Pearl says, delighted.

“Boone,” I chide.

Okee only shakes his head and admires the wallpaper.

Pearl leans closer. “You did have quite a reputation.”

I turn to her with a gasp. “What do you know about my reputation?”