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needed for herself on the uppermost floor of the Pennyroyal. Sometimes it was too much. She could find herself wandering from room to room, recalling that when Adam and Ellen were still with her, she had complained the apartment was too small for the three of them. It was a miserable memory, and she did her best to avoid tripping over it.
    Raine used a forearm to clear a space for her breakfast on the writing table in her office. A couple of sheets of paper fluttered to the floor and she let them lie. Sitting down, she pulled out the fork she had squirreled away under her sleeve and cut into the hotcakes. Her stomach rumbled as she lifted two thick slices of molasses-soaked cakes. Just in time, she thought, and stuffed the double helping into her mouth.
    She couldn’t eat everything Mrs. Sterling gave her, but she had a taste of all of it, and when she pushed out her belly, her stays pushed back. She turned her chair away from the desk and inched it toward the window. The Pennyroyal was the tallest building in Bitter Springs, taller even than the spire on Grace Church, and the view from Raine’s office took in the storefronts of half a dozen businesses on the opposite side of the street. Beyond that she could make out the rooftop of the parsonage, where Pastor Robbins and his family lived, Mrs.Garvin’s attic window, and if she tilted her head at just the right angle, she could see between the false fronts of the mercantile and the drugstore all the way to the privy in Mr. Webb’s backyard. It always made her smile to think that a self-important man like Mr. Webb traipsed to an outhouse when her hotel had all the latest amenities including hot and cold running water and porcelain pots in every bathing room, which meant her guests did not have to visit the privy. After Adam had installed the water tank and boiler, the hotel was booked for eight weeks with townspeople who paid to spend a night just to open a faucet and wash their hands and face with hot water. Some even took a bath. Mr. Webb was not among the guests. The Burdicks surely would have insisted that the banker stay away. They controlled the bank; therefore, the banker.
    Raine felt herself begin to nod off. She would have a crick in her neck for days if she slept in the chair. That prompted her to leave its relative comfort for her bed. She didn’t disturb the coverlet but lay on top of it and plumped the pillows. When the coil at the back of her head pressed uncomfortably, she tore at the pins and unwound it. The combs followed.
    There were so many things she still wanted to do before Nat Church arrived, and all of them would have to wait. She could have told Mrs. Sterling the truth: She didn’t deserve to sleep, and the shadows under her eyes were there because she knew it.
    It was one of the consequences of hiring a killer.
    Curiosity gave Kellen the only excuse he needed to decide against going to Salt Lake City and get off the train at Bitter Springs. At least he preferred to think it was curiosity. The alternative explanation was that he had been moved by impulse, and that would have been worrisome. It was his experience that giving in to impulse meant the odds were better than even that he would be face-to-face with trouble at the end of the day, maybe before supper.
    He set his valise at his feet and unclenched his fingers while he waited for the porters to bring his trunks. The bag was heavier than he recalled, and it occurred to him that he shouldhave stowed it in the baggage car or accepted Mr. Berg’s offer to carry it for him. It would have provided a moment’s welcome comedy to watch the diminutive conductor strain to lift the bag, let alone haul it off the train. Every mile traveled since Nat Church surrendered his last breath had been fraught with more tension than the mile before, and Mr. Berg’s desire to make sure no fault was attached to the railroad prompted him to take on the role of investigator, asking as many questions as came to him,