had enough to eat,
and new costumes were being constructed by the seamstress to replace those that had
worn out or burned in the fire.
Harry supervised the improvements and restorations with even more joviality than
before. Caitlin had groomed her horses to a satin sheen of renewed health, Florizel and
his cohorts were perfecting a new clown act of which he was inordinately proud, and the
jugglers, aerialists, acrobats, and dog trainers went about their tasks with cheerful
absorption. Hope wafted in the air like a seductive perfume.
Morgan kept to himself. He did not visit Tamar again. His one night with her had been
more than enough to purge him of any desire to share her bed a second time. She was
easy to put from his thoughts.
The same could not be said of Athena Munroe. They hadn't met again, yet her eyes and
her scent came back to him both waking and sleeping. There was no reason in it, and
no sense. On the day that Miss Munroe and her society friends were to have their
promised tour of the circus, he made an immediate decision to visit Ulysses at the
Windsor and remain there. The only way to rid his thoughts of Athena Munroe was to
avoid her as much as possible until the troupe left Denver.
It could not be soon enough for him. He walked in the street just off the plank sidewalks,
preferring the feel of gravel to dead wood, and constant clouds of dust to human
contact. He wore shoes, so as not to attract too much attention—that was one of his few
concessions to civilization. And he would not embarrass Ulysses.
He slipped between carriages, drays, and wagons bearing every kind of freight. Water
tank wagons sprayed the dirt in a vain effort to keep down the dust, and dirty water ran
To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04
Page 91 of 410
down the ditches on either side of the street. Fetid odors from the river and smelters
hung in the still air. Bands of idle boys stood about and mocked passersby, though they
left Morgan strictly alone.
He winced at the continual din of sawing and hammering as new construction went up
throughout the district.
The tall brick and iron buildings on either side of the street seemed to draw inward a
little more with each step he took, as if they intended to crush him. He passed
numerous Chinese laundries squeezed between saloons and mercantiles, the Mint with
its disintegrating bricks, and the vast Tabor block at the corner of Larimer.
The Windsor Hotel rose a full five stories at the busy intersection of Eighteenth and
Larimer, ponderous in heavy gray stone. Morgan stared up at it, all the hairs on his body
standing at attention. Men and women, most well-dressed and prosperous, went blithely
in and out the door as if the sheer weight of the construction might not topple over upon
them at any moment.
"Are you drunk?" someone shouted. "Get out of the way!”
He sprang to the side just as a heavily laden wagon bore down on the place he had
been standing. His ears ached with the noise. He could run away from it—either back to
the lot or into the hotel.
He stepped up onto the sidewalk and braved the doors. A pair of befrilled matrons, busy
with their conversation, bumped into him coming out. They paused to gawk at him and
then hurried on their way.
The lobby opened up around him, a glittering cavern of gilded ornamentation, wrought
iron, and polished brass. Chairs and sofas with velvet cushions were arranged in
groupings with potted plants. Laughter and conversation echoed. Morgan caught the
To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04
Page 92 of 410
smell of freshly cooked food from another entrance, which he guessed must lead to the
Windsor's dining room.
He kept close to the edge of the vast space and worked his way to the desk where
young male clerks waited on guests with their bags and bundles. Morgan stood to the
side while the nearest clerk finished with the elderly couple at the desk, summoned a
uniformed bellboy,
and new costumes were being constructed by the seamstress to replace those that had
worn out or burned in the fire.
Harry supervised the improvements and restorations with even more joviality than
before. Caitlin had groomed her horses to a satin sheen of renewed health, Florizel and
his cohorts were perfecting a new clown act of which he was inordinately proud, and the
jugglers, aerialists, acrobats, and dog trainers went about their tasks with cheerful
absorption. Hope wafted in the air like a seductive perfume.
Morgan kept to himself. He did not visit Tamar again. His one night with her had been
more than enough to purge him of any desire to share her bed a second time. She was
easy to put from his thoughts.
The same could not be said of Athena Munroe. They hadn't met again, yet her eyes and
her scent came back to him both waking and sleeping. There was no reason in it, and
no sense. On the day that Miss Munroe and her society friends were to have their
promised tour of the circus, he made an immediate decision to visit Ulysses at the
Windsor and remain there. The only way to rid his thoughts of Athena Munroe was to
avoid her as much as possible until the troupe left Denver.
It could not be soon enough for him. He walked in the street just off the plank sidewalks,
preferring the feel of gravel to dead wood, and constant clouds of dust to human
contact. He wore shoes, so as not to attract too much attention—that was one of his few
concessions to civilization. And he would not embarrass Ulysses.
He slipped between carriages, drays, and wagons bearing every kind of freight. Water
tank wagons sprayed the dirt in a vain effort to keep down the dust, and dirty water ran
To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04
Page 91 of 410
down the ditches on either side of the street. Fetid odors from the river and smelters
hung in the still air. Bands of idle boys stood about and mocked passersby, though they
left Morgan strictly alone.
He winced at the continual din of sawing and hammering as new construction went up
throughout the district.
The tall brick and iron buildings on either side of the street seemed to draw inward a
little more with each step he took, as if they intended to crush him. He passed
numerous Chinese laundries squeezed between saloons and mercantiles, the Mint with
its disintegrating bricks, and the vast Tabor block at the corner of Larimer.
The Windsor Hotel rose a full five stories at the busy intersection of Eighteenth and
Larimer, ponderous in heavy gray stone. Morgan stared up at it, all the hairs on his body
standing at attention. Men and women, most well-dressed and prosperous, went blithely
in and out the door as if the sheer weight of the construction might not topple over upon
them at any moment.
"Are you drunk?" someone shouted. "Get out of the way!”
He sprang to the side just as a heavily laden wagon bore down on the place he had
been standing. His ears ached with the noise. He could run away from it—either back to
the lot or into the hotel.
He stepped up onto the sidewalk and braved the doors. A pair of befrilled matrons, busy
with their conversation, bumped into him coming out. They paused to gawk at him and
then hurried on their way.
The lobby opened up around him, a glittering cavern of gilded ornamentation, wrought
iron, and polished brass. Chairs and sofas with velvet cushions were arranged in
groupings with potted plants. Laughter and conversation echoed. Morgan caught the
To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04
Page 92 of 410
smell of freshly cooked food from another entrance, which he guessed must lead to the
Windsor's dining room.
He kept close to the edge of the vast space and worked his way to the desk where
young male clerks waited on guests with their bags and bundles. Morgan stood to the
side while the nearest clerk finished with the elderly couple at the desk, summoned a
uniformed bellboy,
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