ungodly thoughts and she quickly banished them.
After a few minutes, she heard him swear. Fingers crossed, she hoped he wouldn't take
his anger out on her. The bruise around her eye had faded, but was still tender.
He was digging in his pocket when he came back to her. His hand came out, holding
coins and a couple of crumpled bills. "Here, take this. You're on your own 'til I come back.
Shouldn't be more'n a week." He picked up the valise he'd left with her and stared to walk
away.
"Pa? Wait!"
"What?"
"Where are... What am I supposed to do?" She looked down at the money he'd handed
her. Two dollar bills and half a dozen coins. One was a five dollar piece, but the rest were silver
and copper. No more than eight dollars in all. "Where will I stay?"
"Find a place. Get yourself work. You can't expect me to take care of you all the time."
Without a word of farewell, he strode to the door and disappeared into the night.
The station agent was a nice man. He let her stay in the station until morning.
* * * *
Eight weeks after leaving Dodge City, Merlin rode into Denver. He'd climbed
three-quarters of the way up the mountain they called Pike's Peak, nursed a homesteader with a broken
leg until he could hobble around on his own, and spent near a week in a snow cave when winter
swept down from the peaks as he was making his way out of the Rockies.
Denver was a mighty fine city, but it looked to be a lot quieter than Dodge had been.
He'd heard Colorado was going to be a state soon and some said Denver was to be the capital.
Maybe next year was the word he'd heard in some saloon or other, if Congress would get off its
collective arses.
For the first time since he'd ridden out of Dodge City, he was glad to see other folks.
Before anything else, he got himself a room in a hotel with indoor plumbing.
What the day was didn't matter much to him. When he heard church bells somewhere,
he decided it must be Sunday, which explained the lack of traffic on the streets. There was a bath
house next to the hotel, so he took advantage of it. Got himself a shave too, and vowed to buy a
new pair of socks to replace the ones he'd wore holes in, first thing on Monday.
Maybe while he was here, he'd look up that woman Buff and Silas were acquainted
with. Tilly Something-or-Other. "Bet if I ask about high-class bawdyhouses, I'll find her, "he
mused as he turned off the gaslight.
The next morning he took himself over to the Post Office to see if there was any held
mail for him. When he'd sent the telegram from Dodge City, he'd let the folks know where he
was heading.
"Lachlan? I did see something with that name," the clerk said, when asked. He turned to
a wall full of cubbyholes. "Lachlan. Yes, here 'tis." Pulling a bundle of envelopes from a
well-stuffed cubby, he checked their addresses.
"Merlin Lachlan?"
"That's me."
"Then these are all yours. 'Pears you've got a sight of readin' to do."
"I'm obliged," Merlin said, taking them. He restrained his curiosity until he was
outside.
Most of the envelopes were from his folks, but there was one from Regina and one from
Iris. The return address on the forwarded one with foreign stamps was illegible, but his name was
carefully printed. He reckoned it was from his older brother. Buff's handwriting was a caution.
He crammed the bundle into the pocket of his duster and headed toward the hotel. He had all
afternoon to spend on his mail, before he went out to see what Denver had to offer after dark.
Maybe he'd have dinner sent up, with a pint of brandy. After more than a year of living rough, he
felt like enjoying a little luxury. He hadn't slept on ironed sheets since he left New Orleans.
Later, replete with rare steak and creamy mashed potatoes, he leaned back against a pile
of pillows and started with the oldest letters first. Ma and Pa were well, and starting to plan their
trip to Australia. He reread the paragraph where Ma said they were thinking to come home the
long way, through Europe. She'd a
After a few minutes, she heard him swear. Fingers crossed, she hoped he wouldn't take
his anger out on her. The bruise around her eye had faded, but was still tender.
He was digging in his pocket when he came back to her. His hand came out, holding
coins and a couple of crumpled bills. "Here, take this. You're on your own 'til I come back.
Shouldn't be more'n a week." He picked up the valise he'd left with her and stared to walk
away.
"Pa? Wait!"
"What?"
"Where are... What am I supposed to do?" She looked down at the money he'd handed
her. Two dollar bills and half a dozen coins. One was a five dollar piece, but the rest were silver
and copper. No more than eight dollars in all. "Where will I stay?"
"Find a place. Get yourself work. You can't expect me to take care of you all the time."
Without a word of farewell, he strode to the door and disappeared into the night.
The station agent was a nice man. He let her stay in the station until morning.
* * * *
Eight weeks after leaving Dodge City, Merlin rode into Denver. He'd climbed
three-quarters of the way up the mountain they called Pike's Peak, nursed a homesteader with a broken
leg until he could hobble around on his own, and spent near a week in a snow cave when winter
swept down from the peaks as he was making his way out of the Rockies.
Denver was a mighty fine city, but it looked to be a lot quieter than Dodge had been.
He'd heard Colorado was going to be a state soon and some said Denver was to be the capital.
Maybe next year was the word he'd heard in some saloon or other, if Congress would get off its
collective arses.
For the first time since he'd ridden out of Dodge City, he was glad to see other folks.
Before anything else, he got himself a room in a hotel with indoor plumbing.
What the day was didn't matter much to him. When he heard church bells somewhere,
he decided it must be Sunday, which explained the lack of traffic on the streets. There was a bath
house next to the hotel, so he took advantage of it. Got himself a shave too, and vowed to buy a
new pair of socks to replace the ones he'd wore holes in, first thing on Monday.
Maybe while he was here, he'd look up that woman Buff and Silas were acquainted
with. Tilly Something-or-Other. "Bet if I ask about high-class bawdyhouses, I'll find her, "he
mused as he turned off the gaslight.
The next morning he took himself over to the Post Office to see if there was any held
mail for him. When he'd sent the telegram from Dodge City, he'd let the folks know where he
was heading.
"Lachlan? I did see something with that name," the clerk said, when asked. He turned to
a wall full of cubbyholes. "Lachlan. Yes, here 'tis." Pulling a bundle of envelopes from a
well-stuffed cubby, he checked their addresses.
"Merlin Lachlan?"
"That's me."
"Then these are all yours. 'Pears you've got a sight of readin' to do."
"I'm obliged," Merlin said, taking them. He restrained his curiosity until he was
outside.
Most of the envelopes were from his folks, but there was one from Regina and one from
Iris. The return address on the forwarded one with foreign stamps was illegible, but his name was
carefully printed. He reckoned it was from his older brother. Buff's handwriting was a caution.
He crammed the bundle into the pocket of his duster and headed toward the hotel. He had all
afternoon to spend on his mail, before he went out to see what Denver had to offer after dark.
Maybe he'd have dinner sent up, with a pint of brandy. After more than a year of living rough, he
felt like enjoying a little luxury. He hadn't slept on ironed sheets since he left New Orleans.
Later, replete with rare steak and creamy mashed potatoes, he leaned back against a pile
of pillows and started with the oldest letters first. Ma and Pa were well, and starting to plan their
trip to Australia. He reread the paragraph where Ma said they were thinking to come home the
long way, through Europe. She'd a
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