The Way Home by Megan Chance

Author:Megan Chance [Chance, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1936632060
Publisher: HarperTorch
Published: 1997-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Dallas. Texas

When Cole rode into Dallas, the dim gas lamps lighting the main streets were just flickering and throbbing to life. But in spite of the eerie, false glow of evening, Dallas was just as busy now as it was during the day. Hogs ran wild in the streets, dogs nipped and barked at his horse's heels as he rode past, men and women strode laughing and talking from one false-fronted building to another. The only difference was that the wagons loaded high with buffalo hides were parked along the streets instead of blocking them, their owners gone to get falling-down drunk in the saloons.

Cole paused, drinking up the music of Dallas, the fragrance of untanned hides and dust and blood rotting in the heat. Nothing bad had ever happened to him in this town. He'd won more often than he'd lost, he'd had some whores he still remembered. And, of course, there was Jenny.

He wondered where she was now, what dance she was attending, whether there was even a party tonight. If there was, she would be there, he knew. Her family was one of the Dallas elite, her father a former New Yorker who came to Texas to take advantage of the Reconstruction. Carpetbagger was the dirty word for a man like Robert Spears, but Cole was willing to be magnanimous and forget all that. He'd never had much use for that kind of resentment anyway. Carpetbaggers were just as likely as Texans to lose at cards.

There was a hotel not far from here, one of the finer establishments in the whole of Texas. Three stories, with glass windows in the main room. Cole had never stayed there before, but he'd already decided that this visit he would. It was where the wealthier, more respected travelers stayed, and he wanted to impress the Spearses. He rode past the flea-bitten saloon he usually took a room at and hitched his horse in front of the Eagle Hotel.

It was as well kept as some of the hotels outside of Texas, with a brightly lit main room and a carpet on the floor—though it was too dusty to see the pattern on it—and a jovial, round man buzzing behind the front desk. The room smelled of cigar smoke and money. Cole made his way to the clerk. He leaned against the desk and pulled a cigar out of his vest pocket, lighting it and taking a few puffs before the man turned to him with a big smile.

"Welcome to the Eagle," he said. "How can I help you?"

Cole smiled. "I'll take a room."

The man turned the guest book to him and dipped a pen. "If you could just fill in your name "

Cole scrawled his name on the line. "Maybe you could tell me—I've got an invitation to one of those dances tonight—"

"You mean at the Fargo?" The clerk frowned.

"No, no," Cole said. "One of those society things."

"Ah. You must mean Lucia Brainierd's dance." The clerk's expression cleared. "You'll be able to find it easily.

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