There's No Place Like Rhodes (Book 2)

Drunken Harlot

Karen wished the demons that haunted her waking mind would take a break for once. She'd wanted her guilt to hold off in favor of her intrigue over Arthur's personal life. She'd kept occupied enough last night with the others. But the pleasure was short-lived and the whiskey bottle beckoned her this morning.

It wasn't her fault. She'd awakened in an unfamiliar bed, sweating, and her hands shaking in a way that had her panicking. Karen only needed a couple swigs from her whiskey bottle to return to mostly normal. Before they left the house, she managed to refrain from downing more, as tempting as it seemed after the things Charlotte had pointed out to her.

Don't you think it's time you made some changes? The question kept rattling around in her mind. Charlotte had challenged her way of thinking, true, but that didn't mean nothing. It was damn near impossible to shake the past.

Could she even make changes at this point in her life? She was broke, with no support and no job skills unless she wanted to make a living at the saloon. She had too much of a mouth to get far in that line of work. She'd either kill a man or wind up dead real quick.

Although the notion of a future ultimately seemed pointless, somehow Karen couldn't stop herself from musing over one. Even so, she couldn't see what Charlotte saw. The problem was, Karen knew Charlotte's type: a fixer. Mary-Beth had been the same damn way. They were both too goddamn optimistic in their outlooks while Karen knew what to actually expect out there.

And what did Charlotte expect her to do anyway? She was a rich widow with barely the concept of the real world's treatment of people like Karen.

How the hell Arthur had landed an innocent, know-nothing woman like Charlotte, Karen kept scratching her head over. The woman was somehow genuinely content with a man like Arthur, a brute who had been a part of one the most notorious gangs in the area.

Personally, Karen didn't understand either one of them. If she was in Charlotte's shoes, with her own house and no husband to answer to, she wouldn't have invited a man to live with her. She'd relish in the freedom.

"Are you comfortable back there, Karen?" Charlotte turned in her seat from beside Arthur, interrupting Karen's thoughts.

"Sure."

The small wagon was not exactly made for passengers, but she'd situated herself well enough. Arthur had considerately laid down a blanket and Karen had bundled up for their short journey. The afternoon was passing and bringing with it clouds and snow flurries.

Ben rode beside them when the trail was wide enough and dropped back behind her when it narrowed. He'd fallen silent after Arthur's barbershop story, his brow furrowed deep in contemplation.

As the wagon rumbled through the outskirts of Annesburg, Charlotte pointed, "Look, it seems they've stopped work at the factory."

"I'll be damned." Arthur scratched his chin. "They're actually givin' them poor fools a day off?"

"I wonder if they've closed the mine today too," Charlotte said thoughtfully. "Since Mr. Cornwall's passing, the people in town have claimed Mr. Jameson hasn't been as strict of an employer since he doesn't travel up here often."

At Cornwall's mention, Arthur's shoulders stiffened up visibly even under his coat and Karen caught a glimpse of Charlotte's concern regarding his tendency to secrecy.

"Is that so?" Arthur mumbled a response.

If he tensed up in such a painfully obvious manner after any mention of something he knew and didn't want to talk about, it was no wonder Charlotte was burning with questions.

As far as Cornwall went, Karen vaguely remembered mention of the man. It was his train they'd robbed while still up in Colter. Cornwall was also the reason they'd had to leave Valentine. Yet, she didn't know the particulars, especially over what would make Arthur go so quiet here and now. Irritatingly, she was in the dark as much as Charlotte.