Victoria pulled her own small valise out from beneath her seat, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her parasol. When she disembarked, the luggage boys would help her carry the larger trunks to a nearby hotel.
Her fingers trembled with anticipation. She had very nearly reached the end of her westward journey. Father Baez's advice led her south, to the wilderness of Santa Fe. When she arrived, the priest there, a Father Perez, had told her to board a train for Albuquerque as soon as he heard her say the name Cora Oglesby. The huntress had set off for the frontier town not long after arriving in Santa Fe four years before, and Father Perez seemed certain that she was still there.
The car trembled as the train pulled into the Albuquerque station. Through the windows, she could hear the shrill voice of the train's whistle crying out that they had arrived. Conversations in the car grew louder as the passengers began moving toward the exit. A few remained in their seats, staring out the windows or watching the others shuffle past. Victoria waited for the gaggle to pass before standing. Valise in hand, she made for the door, eyes fixed on the glowing swath of sunlight spilling through it.
A blast of hot air greeted her as she stepped out of the car and onto the station platform. The glare was blinding. She quickly unfolded her parasol, blinking as it rose to block out the sun. Groups of passengers stood on the platform, talking among themselves while waiting for their luggage. Next to her, three men in pressed suits discussed the possibilities for expanding their business into this wild, untamed land. Their voices clipped along excitedly as ideas flew between them. She knew the language well enough; it brought back memories of her father and his many meetings. A lump swelled in her throat at the thought. Despite her sorrow, Victoria's lips curled upward in a small smile. Were it not for his ambition, she would not be standing where she was. His fortune had enabled her to cross oceans and continents.
The platform shook beneath her. Luggage boys were unloading the freight car, tossing bags and suitcases out into the sun. Already the crowd of passengers pressed in around the growing pile, searching through it for their belongings. Victoria watched them from beneath her parasol. Once the bustle subsided, she would ask one of the bag boys to help her along to the nearest hotel, promising a smile and a tip for his efforts. As she watched the crowd thin, she wondered idly just what sort of accommodations a town like this had to offer. A glance over the haphazard group of buildings standing nearest the station seemed to promise that they wouldn't be much. No matter. She wouldn't be here long. If all went well, she and the Oglesby woman would be leaving on the next day's train.
The sun drifted lazily toward the western horizon, drawing shades of deep blue and violet into the sky. Drops of sweat stood out on Victoria's forehead as she stood in front of the sand-blasted building. The streets of Albuquerque had not yet relinquished the afternoon heat, and the people wandering them moved like plague sufferers and smelled worse. She had seldom been surrounded by such an overpowering cloud of human stink. Even in the street, the stench of sweat, spit, and animals pressed up against her. It put her on edge; she could almost feel it crawling up her legs and under the neckline of her dress. How any woman, even one as uncouth as Cora Oglesby, could stand living in such a miasma confounded her.
More confusing, however, were the words painted on the sign that hung above the door in front of her. In bold black letters, it proclaimed the name of the establishment: Ben's Print Shop. Although Victoria had never seen a printing press, she knew right away that this particular building had never set ink to a page. The men passing through the batwing doors couldn't possibly be literate. They peered at the world from beneath wide-brimmed hats, their eyes bleary from sun and liquor. Many wore guns in low-slung holsters that dangled from their belts, the leather cracked and faded. She had never seen so many guns in one place, and that men such as these carried them made her uneasy. What if they decided to turn them on her? As a young girl, she'd heard stories of holdups