Caitlin did not see Morgan again. She sat on the edge of a cot, rocking back and forth while constant noise and movement swirled around her. Someone threw another blanket over her shoulders, and Harry came by, much improved, to ask her a question she didn’t quite hear.
She looked up. Harry and Ulysses stood side by side, stout old man and handsome dwarf, gazing at her as if they had grim news to impart. Caitlin prepared herself for pain.
“You’re worried about Munroe, aren’t you?” Harry asked softly. “You needn’t worry any longer.”
Hope seeped into the shriveled husk of her heart. “Is he here?”
“He is still missing,” Ulysses said. “But we came to tell you that Morgan has volunteered to search for him. If any man—any creature upon this earth—has the skill to locate him, it is he.”
“Morgan… volunteered?” Morgan, who hated Niall and was hated in return? Why should he wish to save his enemy from almost certain death?
Because, like it or not, he had an unbreakable tie to Niall Munroe. Caitlin didn’t imagine that Morgan did it for her sake. Niall was Athena’s sister, and she knew that Morgan would risk anything to spare her the sorrow of losing the last member of her family.
So much for indifference. So much for freedom and breaking all bonds of love or friendship.
Now all she had to do was pray—pray, not only that Morgan found Niall, but that they didn’t kill each other when he did.
“You’d be crazy to go on in this storm, miss,” the innkeeper said, shaking his finger at Athena. “They say it’ll be the worst of the season. Can’t figure how you made it this far.”
Athena stood in the doorway of the livery stable and gazed out at the blowing snow. Even after a long stop in Golden, it did indeed seem something of a miracle that she’d come all the way from Denver in increasingly bad weather. Though she scarcely felt the cold, the journey had been far from pleasant. Her legs had gone well past the point of pain, numb appendages useful only for gripping the belly of her horse.
The gelding had shown great spirit in carrying her so far into the mountains, to this small mining town with its narrow street of saloons, shops, and the single hotel and stable. Dandy certainly deserved a warm stall, an ample portion of oats, and a good night’s sleep.
But Yankee Gulch was still miles away from where she wanted to go. Where she must go.
“I can’t let you take one of my horses out tonight,” the innkeeper said fretfully. “There’s only another hour of daylight. It’d be the same as murder—you and the horse, both.”
He was right about the horse, and hers certainly could not go any farther. She faced the unpalatable choice of staying the night, knowing that Niall must already be at Long Park, or risking the life of some innocent beast.
That she could not do. But the third alternative filled her with such terror that she felt a coldness far more savage than anything nature could provide.
She sighed and turned to the innkeeper. “You said that you have a room,” she said. “I will take it for the night, and leave in the morning.”
The grizzled man relaxed and scratched under the brim of his stained hat. “Good. Now let’s get out of this cold, and I’ll make sure your horse is well taken care of tonight. The rooms ain’t fancy, but on a night like this—” He shrugged and gestured toward the door of the adjoining hotel.
The room was every bit as plain as the innkeeper had warned, and only marginally clean. It stank of a previous tenant’s stale sweat and cigar smoke, fouling each breath she took.
Athena swallowed her distaste and set her small pack on the uneven floor. The sheets on the bed, while much mended, appeared reasonably tidy. Not that she expected to get much sleep.
She pulled the single, rickety wooden chair up to the window and watched the snow cover the street, the cheaply constructed buildings and the handful of wagons tied up in front of the general store. The few pedestrians moved hastily, anonymous figures with lowered heads and white-caked boots. Denver, and the comforts of home, seemed a million miles away.