Chapter 3

Past the boarding house, where I rent a room upstairs, is the general store, then the post office, then the sheriff’s. Stubs’ is on the opposite side of the street, along with the stables, the smithy’s, and the whitewashed boards of the Junction church. A smattering of homes stretch out beyond where the boardwalk ends on either side of the street, a cushion between the town and the small railroad depot straddling the road at the farthest edge.

I head for Stubs’. It’s early, and as usual, I’m the only customer. When I push through the swinging doors, Maddy turns on her barstool with a hopeful gleam in her eyes that dies when she sees me. She wears a faded petticoat and not much else. One strap slips off her shoulder, and she pushes it back into place as she sort of grimaces at me. Her henna-dyed hair is piled on top of her head in a messy array of corkscrew curls, and the kohl around her eyes looks smudged.

“Hey there, Nat,” she calls. Then she turns back around, dismissing me.