Free The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper by Kathleen Y' Barbo

had specifically demanded that Charlotte be brought for an audience.
    He would expect the child to be a lady. To bring an overall-clad imp would risk his rejecting Charlotte. And while the old man’s opinions weren’t worth spit to Daniel, the ten-year-old had lived through too many losses to add her grandfather to the list.
    He’d have to figure out a way around it. Perhaps a letter begging the girl’s age as a reason for not traveling east with her. It might work, except that her mother had brought her all the way from England with no permanent harm done.
    Then it came to him. “Of course,” he said softly as he reached for pen and paper. She was his child, and he didn’t have to respond to the demands of a bitter old man.
    Try as he might, however, Daniel could not write the words his thoughts demanded. Instead, he penned a perfunctory note of acceptance, allowing for the fact the old man might change his mind.
    Praying for it.

While she waited, Mae gave some thought to what life in the big city of Deadwood would be like. Hot meals and soft beds, warm fires and cool evening breezes. Likely she’d find no further need to run or be her own protector. No, she thought as she checked the number of bullets in each of her three weapons, she’d be safe as a bug in a rug.
    It sounded just awful.
    She sighted down her pistol. Sometimes what a person wishes for is neither what they really want nor what they need.
    Sometimes, it’s the wishing that’s the best part.
    And right now, with her target coming into range, Mae wished for Henry.

    Gennie perched on the edge of the buggy’s seat as much to get a better look at the scene unfolding before her as to be ready to jump and run if need be. Several seemingly upstanding citizens and two officers of the law had vouched for the identity of the man who called himself Elias Howe and the urchin known as Charlie Beck.
    As to her identity, Gennie was not proud to admit she’d allowed them to believe she was the newest McTaggart in the household. There would be time enough to tell the truth, but Daniel Beck must be informed first. He could tell the child and his staff members. This, after all, was his purview, not hers.
    Glancing to her left, Gennie noted the child’s pout and decided that whoever was in charge of the imp would have to form an immunity to the expression, lest she be taken in. Wide eyes and a tiny, upturned nose completed the profile of what could have been an angel had Gennie not known the truth.
    She moved her attention to the straight back of the older man in odd clothing. A dress coat that appeared to be a neatly pressed yet greatly patched Confederate uniform offered an interesting contrast to the formal hat perched atop gray curls. Were he not seated next to the driver in a coach of some expense, Gennie might have pegged Elias Howe for one without a home or means of his own.
    As if he felt her gaze on him, Elias Howe swiveled in his seat. “This here’s Lawrence Street, Miss McTaggart,” he said. “It’s not New York City, but we’ve got plenty of modern conveniences.”
    Gennie noted such illustrious establishments as the Denver Fur Company and Joslin’s Dry Goods wedged among the numerous storefronts of the mud-filled thoroughfare. “Are those telegraph poles?” She resisted the urge to point. “And there, are those streetlights?”
    Mr. Howe chuckled. “You sound surprised we have such a thing.” He winked. “Been ten years almost since that was news.”
    “I see.”
    Before her was a scene that could have taken place in any city. A solid-looking bank dominated the block, competing for space among the other surprisingly civilized establishments. Women and men wearing clothing that could have come from the better stores in Manhattan strolled along sidewalks and picked their way across the wide street. Coming and going on both sides of the street were horse-drawn streetcars filled to capacity with well-dressed city folk.
    Mae Winslow would