Grace ambled out of the office and strode down Main Street toward the Esperanza Arms. She’d never understand why Rosamond and her new dandy husband, Garrick, had chosen that name. Maybe Garrick’s uncle, the Earl of something or other, had planted that English-sounding name on the hotel. Maybe they’d named it for the wing currently being added to the north end of the building and the wing they planned to build to the west. Grace reckoned they couldn’t exactly call it the Esperanza Wings. She laughed out loud at the thought.
“What’s funny?” The Rev fell into step with Grace as she continued down the dusty street.
“You following me, Rev?” She kept on laughing, even as her heart did a stupid little hop.
“Not on purpose.” He chuckled. “We just always seem to be going in the same direction.”
A bothersome shiver, not at all unpleasant, swept down Grace’s spine. She had to stop these involuntary reactions to him. No man had ever affected her this way. The Rev himself hadn’t ever. It was downright nonsense. But when did feelings ever have anything to do with good sense? She mentally put her foot down, ordering those feelings to vamoose.
“So, what were you laughing about all by yourself?” He seemed in a jolly mood himself.
She dared to cut him a glance, knowing he’d be wearing that teasing grin. She was right, so she returned a smirk. “I was just wondering why they named the hotel what they did.”
They stepped up on the boardwalk outside the building at the same moment Rosamond and Garrick Wakefield emerged through the fancy etched glass doors.
“Well, what do you know?” The Rev waved a hand toward the couple, who’d shared a double wedding with Beryl and Percy last year. “Here are the folks to ask.”
“Ask what?” Rosamond’s eyes shone with pure joy, just as they had on her wedding day. They’d recently returned from their honeymoon and now were teaching at the high school as well as running the hotel.
Grace tamped down a mild case of envy, both for their happiness and for their getting to see Beryl last summer.
The Rev shook hands with the Englishman. “Good morning, Garrick. How’s business?”
“Excellent, Reverend.” Garrick’s brown-eyed gaze lit on his pretty wife, and he smiled. “Couldn’t be better.”
Grace wondered what it would feel like to have a man she loved look at her like that.
Rosamond sidled over to her and touched her arm. “What was your question?”
Grace traded a look with the Rev, and they both laughed.
“I was just wondering why you called the hotel the Esperanza Arms when it’s wings you’re adding, not arms. Why not call it the Esperanza Wings?”
While the Rev and Rosamond laughed heartily, Garrick tilted his head and blinked. Then he chuckled. “And you came all the way over here together to ask that?”
Grace hiked up her gun belt. “I don’t know why the Rev came, but I’m here on official business.”
Everyone sobered right up.
“What is it, Grace?” Rosamond lifted her hand and came just short of putting her arm around Grace’s waist, as she might any other female friend.
Grace stepped back an inch or two before that could happen so she could maintain a look of authority. “Two things. There’s been some items stolen from Mrs. Winsted’s mercantile. I need to check with the shopkeepers here at the hotel—” she waved a hand toward the row of six shops that lined the south side of the hotel along Main Street “—to see if they’ve had the same trouble. Anybody said anything to you?” She directed her question toward Garrick.
“Not to me.” He looked at Rosamond. “Sweetheart?”
“Not at all. Surely they would tell us. Don’t you think it’s a good sign they haven’t reported a robbery?”
“Pretty good.” Grace nodded. “I’ll just tell ’em to be on the lookout. Sheriff Lawson thinks it might be boys out for mischief.”
“What’s the other thing?” Rosamond moved back over to Garrick, and he placed a protective arm around her. She nestled under it, and they both stared at her like they were expecting bad news.
Grace wondered what it would feel like to have a tall, strong man put his arm around her that way instead of her always having to be the strong one. She cleared her throat crossly to dismiss the foolish idea.
“Dathan Hardison and Deke Smith broke out of Cañon City State Penitentiary with the help of their gang. They’re vowing revenge on the folks who put them there.”
Rosamond gasped. “Rand and Marybeth.” Naturally her first concern would be for her brother and his wife, who had helped to stop the bank robbery and put the outlaws in prison.
Grace considered her own sisters’ participation in stopping the robbery. “Good thing Laurie and Beryl aren’t here.” Once again, she’d allow that Romans 8:28 applied in this case.
“You’re in danger, too, Grace.” The Rev grunted in his gentlemanly way. “But I don’t think anyone will be safe as long as those men are free. We’ll have to pray those lost souls will see their need for salvation before they cause any more harm.”
Grace clenched her jaw. She had been praying, and look what it got. The varmints broke out of the strongest prison in Colorado, and now the decent folks of Esperanza would be living in fear until they were caught. For the hundredth time in nearly three years, Grace wished she’d shot Dathan Hardison and his crazy-as-a-loon partner dead.
“Well, I’ve got business to tend to. ’Scuse me.” She touched the brim of her hat like a man would do and strode away, her heels thumping on the boardwalk. The Rev caught up with her, only this time the cadences of their footfalls didn’t quite match, as they had earlier.
They arrived at Cappello’s Haberdashery at the north end of the building and stepped inside the open door.
“Welcome, welcome.” The sprightly little Italian man grinned broadly, causing his wide black mustache to wiggle oddly. “What can I do for you fine folks?”
Grace asked about possible thefts, and he reported that no such thing had happened in his establishment.
“But I shall be on guard.” Mr. Cappello waved an index finger in the air like Caesar vowing to defend Rome. “And you, Reverend Thomas. What is your pleasure today?”
The Rev was already trying on hats in front of a mirror on the glass countertop. “I’m thinking of changing my style.” He looked at Grace. “What do you think?” He indicated the bowler he sported, so different from his Stetson. Although both were black, the bowler changed his look from that of a man who belonged in the West to a citified dandy.
Grace coughed out a little laugh, unable to subdue a slightly derisive edge to her tone. “You goin’ courtin’ or something, Rev?”
He turned his attention back to the mirror. “I’ve been thinking about it.” He spoke absently, as if talking to himself.
Grace’s
