I didn’t realize the stillness in the hallway at first. It seemed perfectly natural, like I would have expected. It wasn’t until I heard the sound of something metallic clicking that I turned and looked down. The sun streamed through the hall, positioned carefully to outline the shape of a man stepping out through a door.
Baron Euler hadn’t dressed. When he stepped closer I could see the lines of his body, muscles only slightly hidden by the thinnest layer of softness. His shoulders were broad, and the only thing that protected his modesty was a pistol hanging in his left hand. He made no move to cover himself.
My eyes transfixed themselves on the part of him that marked him a man. He wasn’t Jewish, I thought to myself. I blinked. Tried to tear my eyes away. My body rebelled and continued to look. And in spite of myself I stopped fighting.
“Who was that?”
I heard the words in the back of my mind, but they meant nothing to me. I didn’t even think to try to answer. It wasn’t until he repeated himself that I shook myself out of my transfixed stupor.
“Who was who?”
“The man?”
“Detective,” I said. “He’s looking for you.”
Baron said an oath and stepped through the door past me. I tried not to think about the fact that his manhood brushed me. My blood surged and I closed the door.
“Are you going to put something on?”
He was already pulling a shirt on over his head.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Baron growled. He reached over and grabbed a pair of long underwear and started pulling it up his legs.
“I’m sorry,” I offered.
“Don’t be sorry. We’ve just got to leave. What did you tell him?”
I didn’t let myself believe for a second that he could have possibly missed the conversation. But I wasn’t going to question. It was a dangerous idea, and not one that I planned on indulging. Not even for a moment. Not if I could help it.
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
“Nothing at all?”
“He asked after a… Thomas Reede.”
“And?”
“And I told him the truth: I’d never heard that name before in my entire life.”
“Good girl,” Euler said. He shoved the pistol into its holster and pulled the belt around his blue jeans, not bothering with the belt loops. As he did he took two steps towards me, leaned in, and pressed a kiss against my forehead.
I blushed and tried not to think anything of it. It was disgusting behavior. It had to be, because Baron Euler was a criminal, and I wasn’t that type of girl. But dear God did I want to be. For a man like that, even a good girl would turn bad.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Take this.”
He stuffed a fistful of dollars into my hand. I took them without knowing what they were for.
“Go to the hostler, get my horse, and buy yourself a mare.”
“What?”
“You heard what I said, didn’t you? Go on, and do it.”
I started down the stairs before I realized that there was something disturbing about the idea. Where had he gotten this money? Was this the money that he’d taken from the bank? The bank that he’d killed a man robbing?
I shuddered, straightened the bills, and folded them in half. Then I palmed them and walked, hoping that nobody would notice me.
Someone did, but I didn’t notice at first. I stepped out into the street, looked left and right. Shops lined the street, each one with a big sign that said what they did in big, hand-carved letters and painted with bright reds and blues and yellows.
I waited until I found one with a big picture of a horse carved into it, painted yellow around the outline. The text was bright red, and read stable in all-capital letters.
I walked over to it. It was a few hundred yards; I stayed on the boardwalk until I had to step off to cross the street. Behind me, unnoticed, a man in a shabby, worn suit followed at a comfortable distance. I walked up to the man sitting outside.
He was chewing on a wheat stalk and watched me walk up. He seemed to be judging my appearance, and I was fairly confident that he was finding it very satisfactory. I wasn’t in a position to make him stop looking.
“C’n I help you?”
I pulled a smile. “I’m looking to buy a horse, and to pick up my husband’s horse.”
“What’s your husband’s name?”
I hated lying. I’m bad at it. I wasn’t any better this time. “Um,” I started. “Thomas Reede.”
He nodded as if the name fit. “What horse you want to buy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. It was the truth, and at the same time, it was the wrong thing to say, I knew. I ought to have sounded like I knew everything there was to know about horses. But I wouldn’t have been able to keep up the charade for long. “The mare on my mother’s farm was big and old.”
He looked at me a minute, shrugged, and then stepped back into the place. A hand clapped down on my shoulder. It wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t going to be ignored, no matter what I wanted from it. It pulled, not hard.
“Missus Reede,” he said. He put the emphasis on the name. Reede.
I yelped. If there was a response from the stable boy, I didn’t hear it.
“You startled me,” I said. I forced a smile onto my face. That was easier than any other form of lying. Pretending to be happy to see him.
“You told me that you’d never heard that name before.”
The answer came to me in an inspired instant. I hoped to be able to play it right.
“I did tell you that.”
“Now you’re telling other people you’re his wife, is that right?”
“It’s complicated,” I said. The easiest way to lie is to tell the truth, but only parts of it.
“Oh? Tell me about it.”
“My mother, she didn’t approve.”
“Oh? And your father?”
“Gone,” I said vaguely. I shrugged and looked away.
He pursed his lips. “And so you ran off?”
“So I didn’t want to get him arrested because of my mother.”
The detective looked at me like he was weighing my words. Then he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I get you.”
“So you’ll leave me be?”
“Your mother will get a very detailed report.”
“So…”
“I didn’t find you,” he said.
I let out a breath. He walked away. His hand touched his hip again. The cloth of his jacket moved as he swayed. It outlined something hard and metal and sitting right where his hand would reach. I shivered. Then the man behind led a bay mare out the door and said “Missus Reede?” and I turned to finish my business.