Free Outlaw Train by Cameron Judd

offended came off hollow.
    “No intent on my part to offend, ma’am. There’s also no intent to stand by and let laws be violated in a flagrant manner, especially those affecting the morality of our community. Which is why I have to inquire.”
    “Marshal, I am in town to help those who have lost loved ones regain contact with them through the principles and practices of spiritism. It is for those purposes only that individuals have come to my hotel chamber.”
    “At two and three in the morning? And all of them men?”
    “The fact that here my visitors have been men, sir, is coincidence. In other towns I am sometimes besieged by mothers seeking to make contact with their lost children, often sons killed in the late war. Other places, such as here, my clients happen to be bereaved fathers and widowers. Most times there is a mix. And I expect that will be the case after I’ve had opportunity to advertise my offerings more openly, which is why I’ve visited your local printer and had these broadsides created. I’m placing these across town. I assure you, Marshal, my activities in Wiles are of the highest and most decent nature, intended only to bring new joy to the joyless, hope to the hopeless, and communication to those who have been cut off from their dearest ones.”
    “You’ve given that little speech more than once, I think,” Luke observed.
    “This is not the first time I’ve defended myself against misunderstanding and false accusations.”
    “You keep conducting your business at such odd hours, and in such a setting, and such accusations are going to happen.”
    “Marshal, it has been my experience that some spirits will communicate with the living only in the darkest hours of night, and in settings of privacy. It is often essential for me to conduct my visitations at these ‘odd hours’ you mention.”
    “Might you consider going to your customers instead of having them come to you, then?” he countered. “Appearances, you know. A woman visiting a house with the full family present, evenat a late hour, would strike folks a lot different than when a man pays call on a woman alone in a hotel room in the midst of the night. Especially one who—forgive me, ma’am—dresses herself to such display as you do.”
    Katrina thrust up her nose and gave a disdainful harrumph worthy of Clara Ashworth. “Sir, I possess the attributes I possess. I did not choose them any more than you chose those overlarge ears.”
    Luke squelched an impulse to put his hands up to hide his largish ears, which always had been an embarrassment to him.
    “Marshal, are you through with me? I would like to go on about my business without further interference, if I may.”
    “Go on, then. But, Miss Haus, please be aware that I will be watching you.”
    She smiled and moved in such a way as to make her bosom bounce. A man on the far side of the street walked into a hitch rail. “Marshal, I am quite accustomed to being watched. I hope I gave no offense regarding your ears, by the way.”
    “Forget about it.”
    “I’ll bet you wish you could forget them,” she muttered.
    She turned and headed up the steps toward the emporium front door, swaying her hips a little more than necessary beneath her long dress. Traffic on the street stopped until she was inside the emporium and out of sight.

C HAPTER S EVEN
    A skittering at the rail on the east side of the staircase made Luke turn his head just in time to see a small, familiar figure come over the handrail. This was Oliver Wicks, one of the most unusual individuals in Wiles, and possessor of a unique heritage.
    “‘Ello, Luke!” Oliver said in a decidedly British accent, winking and grinning in a worldly way that belied his young age of twelve years. Then, typical of him, he darted up the stairs and slid through the open front door of the big store with the silent ease of a shadow dancing across a wall.
    Luke shook his head in mild amusement. He knew young Oliver well enough to