admit, was remarkably similar to its twentysomething version. She was a Nordic skier and a professional nutritionist, and it showed.
Terrell pondered her a moment, then bent and picked up her robe. He held it out and looked to the side. She huffed and grabbed it.
âIâm just exhausted, honey. Maybe coming down with something.â
âItâs fine.â Her tone betrayed her.
Doesnât sound like it.
He lay down on the bed, thinking, while his wife continued to get ready for the day.
They headed down to the lobby a few minutes early. Neither was in a great mood now. Bullet was there to greet them, as enthusiastic as heâd been when he first picked them up. With him were two large and athletic Chinese men, whom Bullet didnât introduce.
Outside, Bullet filled the silence between the chief and his wife. The smog was starting to blow off with a north wind. âWeather is beautiful. We call this Golden October in China. Earlier in the month we celebrate National Day. By next year, Tram Village will be ready to have its own event.â
As they walked down the main drag, Bullet pointed out the resortâs attractions: a working replica of Jacksonâs Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, a âCowboy Stageâ for shoot-outs and country music, a gold-panning area for children, and a corral for small animals.
For the first time since their arrival in China, Charlotte was quiet. Not taking pictures. Terrell tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away. No visitors were in the village; the resort had just opened, and only a few of the lodgeâs weekend homes behind the main strip had been sold. The only people present were construction workers, busy putting the final touches on the façades, and a few maintenance men who were sprinkling the imported dust with water so it didnât blow away in the wind.
As they came to a stop outside an imitation clapboard saloon, Bullet spoke again. âBest breakfast in the West!â
Charlotte giggled politely and Terrell forced a smile.
âXiao is running late, I am afraid. My colleagues here will take you on tour of the restaurant in the meantime.â Bullet excused himself and walked back toward the hotel, still without introducing the two men.
Charlotte spoke slowly and loudly to their new hosts. âHe-LLOOO. NICE TO MEET YOU.â
The chief discreetly shook his head at his wife.
The gargantuan men looked at each other, but didnât smile or respond. They turned and walked toward the front, where automatic glass doors led to an antiqued swinging saloon-style gate. The men pushed through without holding the door for Terrell and Charlotte.
They stood in the middle of a large dining room. The wooden chairs had obviously been carefully chosen to mismatch just right, and they were overturned and resting on picnic-style tables. Game mounts were everywhere. They were regionally appropriate for the most part, but a few exotics sprinkled the walls: dik-diks, a polar bear, and even a rhino head.
The restaurant was empty except for the four of them. Smelling sawdust and fresh paint, Terrell assumed the kitchen had never been used.
After allowing them to wander for a few minutes, the men led Terrell and Charlotte downstairs to the kitchen. The menâs silence was off-putting. In the kitchen, empty and devoid of utensils, thegiants stopped again, this time glancing at each other for a moment before one waved his hand in a semicircle, meaning Look around .
âWell, this is weird,â Charlotte whispered to Terrell as they walked around equipment they didnât know and had no interest in learning about. Terrell just shrugged. He caught one of the giants looking at his watch.
âSomewhere to be, big guy?â Terrell broke the strange silence. He was getting annoyed with the bullshit tour. âWhat are we doing down here?â
âShhhh. Honey!â Charlotte pleaded.
The men continued to look straight
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