Silver on the Road (The Devil's West Book 1) by Laura Anne Gilman

cooking.”
    She availed herself of the basin and jug of water by her bed to freshen up, washing her face and hands in the tepid water, then repinning her braid, and then met Gabriel by the door. He had cleaned his face aswell, and changed his shirt, too, leaving Izzy all too aware of the faint smell of sweat and horse that were likely embedded in her skirt, now. But he merely indicated that she should precede him out the door, without comment.
    They walked into the saloon, swinging doors separating the dining area from the gambling, drinking, and music on the other side. Despite the flash of longing that shook her from shoulders to soles, Izzy held back the urge to pass through that door, lose herself in the familiar chatter, instead following Gabriel to an empty table. It wouldn’t be familiar on the other side of those doors. It wasn’t home.
    A serving girl came over quickly, but despite their pleasing smell, the first taste of buttermilk chicken and biscuits turned to dust in her mouth. Izzy took a sip of tea to wash it all down and ease the sudden lump in her throat. Distraction. She needed a distraction. Her gaze flicked to Gabriel seated across the table, tucking into his meal like he hadn’t eaten in days.
    She didn’t want to speak of the men they’d met in the road, not sure if such a thing was considered polite table conversation, but she didn’t want to talk about home either, not with the push of regret and fear still in her throat. And she had no stories to tell, nor any idea what stories to ask him for. . . .
    “You done this often? Mentored, I mean.” She’d wondered but been afraid that might be prying. Now the words fell out of her mouth without preparation, and she wished, after the fact, she could take ’em back. Like a devil’s Bargain, you never asked another man what he’d done unless he offered first. Not even your mentor. Wasn’t polite, and it wasn’t safe.
    Although she didn’t think he’d hurt her for asking. Not the once, anyhow.
    He was still busy tucking into his own plate, and she thought at first he wasn’t going to answer. Then he pushed back a little, wiped his hands on his napkin, and pursed his lips. His hair had dried sticking up in places, his face rough with stubble, making him look like a man shewouldn’t want to cross, but his eyes were soft and thoughtful, and he didn’t seem to have taken offense.
    “A time or three,” he said. “Depends on how you’re counting.”
    She frowned at him. Surely he knew how many times he’d done a thing. Was he teasing? No, she thought maybe he was testing her. Not the way he did on the road but the way the boss did, checking to see if she’d thought something through, looked at all the angles.
    “Counting by times . . . or people? You mentored two at the same time.” It wasn’t a question; she was certain she had the answer right.
    “Near enough. Chimera.”
    Izzy did not choke on her tea. It took some doing, though, and she could feel the near miss of heat floating too near her lungs. “You mentored a chimera?”
    “Not intentionally, I assure you.” His faint, mocking drawl was back, and she’d swear he was pulling her leg, except that wasn’t the sort of thing one joked about. Chimera were dangerous . Not so much as demon but harder to find, at least until they revealed themselves. Ghost-ridden, some folk called ’em. But the boss said they weren’t so much ridden as dancing, twining themselves around, half living and half dead, until you couldn’t much tell the difference between.
    The problem was, sometimes the half-dead part wasn’t all there anymore and pretty much always drove the half-living part crazy, too.
    She tried to think of something to say. “I guess I seemed like a lot less trouble after that.”
    Gabriel gave her a look, one she couldn’t quite read. “Not sure I’d say that.”
    She felt her forehead scrunch in confusion. “You thought I’d be trouble? Then why offer?”
    He shook