𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘉𝘜𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 | ʀᴅʀ

Chapter Fifteen

1893: New Hanover

They got ready the next morning and were off to Knoxville, the air was a bit strange between them, but Rosalie wasn't sure why. Mac wasn't saying much to her, passing a few words only when it was necessary.

She hoped she hadn't made him uncomfortable by sleeping next to him. Maybe the thought of doing so was so horrible that it put him in a bad mood. It certainly was possible from his behavior. He had slept with his back to her the entire night, and before they had even gone to sleep, he was hanging off the bed, putting as much space between them as possible.

Maybe Karen was wrong. Mac probably didn't have feelings for her, and they were just being silly girls, reading into the relationship. All of it was a big misunderstanding.

Something in her stomach sank at the thought, but she tried to ignore it as they approached the hotel where they were meeting Josiah in Knoxville.

The city was bustling, with people crowding the streets. The tall brick buildings loomed over the busy avenue, though it was still nothing compared to the swarm of citizens that had filled the sidewalks of Chicago all those years ago.

There was a loud chatter from all the passing people. Stagecoaches trotted past, their horses clacking against the cobblestone road. The drivers were well dressed in fine hats and suit jackets.

Rosalie parked the wagon and clambered off. She glanced back at Mac. "You wanna get our things? I'm going to see if Josiah's inside." She said.

Mac nodded, looking around at the large, busy city.

He was experiencing a bit of culture shock, having grown up in a small town in New Austin. The spaces he frequented were nothing like this one. Certainly not as busy, and with far fewer brick buildings towering high above him.

"Sure." He said, getting off the wagon and walking around the side to gather their things, his spurs clinking as he disappeared from view.

Rosalie grimaced, watching as he went around the back of the wagon. Once he was out of view, she shook her head with a sigh, walking toward the hotel lobby.

That was the first word he'd spoken to her for the duration of their trip. They weren't far from Annesburg—maybe half a day—but it was a long time for her to go without speaking to Mac. She wished he would just tell her what was wrong if something was wrong instead of stonewalling her.

Ignoring the way her stomach clenched with anxiety, she walked inside the hotel, pushing through the fine, glass doors serving as the entryway.

It was a rather nice hotel, the floors stained dark, cherry red, and a plush, blue rug laid overtop. Heat filled the room from the fire roaring against the far wall. Seating was in front of the fireplace, consisting of a cream loveseat and two wingback chairs. Above, a large chandelier hung over them, lighting the room, as the outside was a bit dim from the fall afternoon. The clerk's desk was large, with a lamp and some other decorative ornaments lining it, and the man behind it was dressed in a fancy suit, his mustache neatly curled.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Asked the desk clerk.

Rosalie looked around the room, her gaze landing on a posh man seated in one of the wingback chairs. Dressed in a fancy suit with a purple necktie, his shoes were freshly shined, and a tophat perched elegantly on his head.

The newspaper in his hands crinkled as he flipped through the pages, his shoe tapping against the ground.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Rosalie said, waving the desk clerk off as she walked over to the man.