slice down the center. The best option would be to turn the fabric under on each side and create a placket. She could add two buttons and buttonholes so at least his belly would be covered. Plus, a button-up shirt would be easier for him to put on with his ribs being wrapped. If her quick fix turned out to be hideous looking, he could always wear it as a work shirt. She hated to see anything go to waste and wondered if Jonas’s hesitation about bringing Silas extra clothes had been from his brother’s lack of extra clothing options.
After trimming the center until both edges were straight, she folded and pinned the material. She moved the lamp to the shelf above her sewing machine and that provided enough light to run two long, straight stiches down each side. Then she repinned the shirt down center for button and buttonhole placement. A few stitches and wrapped thread finished the button attachment. She made the cuts for the buttonholes and did a quick whip stitch around the inside to keep them from fraying.
Once she’d had the shirt buttoned, she found the hole where the knife had been lodged and sewed it up.
It’d do. But she couldn’t hand him back a bloody shirt.
In the kitchen, she poured cold water from the pitcher into a bowl, added some salt and dunked the shirt in. The blood hadn’t had much time to set so it washed out more easily than she’d believed it would. She rinsed it once more, wrung it out and returned to her room, hanging it on a peg to dry.
Dinah moved the lamp back beside her bed. The cock’s first crow would come in a few short hours, so she extinguished the flame, climbed beneath the covers and tried to sleep.
Chapter Four
Jonas and Robbie walked back to town in silence.
They parted ways at Robinette’s General Store. Jonas cut left, heading to the deputy’s office.
The main sheriff’s office was located in Sundance, the Crook County seat. While this settlement hadn’t been officially recognized as a town, with a central railway line and several businesses, including a saloon and a bawdy house, it had all the problems of a town that required a permanent law presence. Currently there were only two deputies, Jonas and “Big Jim”—aka Jim Biggerman. During the day, the on-duty deputy was expected to be available in the building or around town. If the single jail cell had an occupant, they stayed overnight in the cramped office.
Although the hour was late, the last place Jonas wanted to sleep tonight was a bunk roll on the floor of the empty cell.
He relocked the door and headed to Sackett’s. If trouble happened, it usually started in the saloon anyway. At least he’d be easy to find.
Sackett’s and Ruby Red’s Boardinghouse were separate businesses with a common purpose: cashing in on men’s vices. Since the businesses were side by side, Sackett and Ruby had connected the whorehouse to the saloon via a door on the second floor. That way men could claim they’d been in the saloon all night and they thought their womenfolk would be none the wiser.
If you happened to be riding through the area, looking for a place to stay, you’d likely tie up in front of the two-story white clapboard structure with the sign announcing Miss Ruby Red’s Boardinghouse. After entering through the fancy etched glass and brass door, you’d find a small reception area, fussy floral paper covering the walls, two small tables and four spindly, upholstered velvet chairs situated in front of each of the lace-curtained windows. A stand that resembled a polished preacher’s pulpit blocked access to the only door, presumably leading upstairs to the rooms for rent. Hanging on the wall behind that pulpit was a sign that read:
NO VACANCY
As far as Jonas knew, that sign was a permanent fixture.
If you were also the observant type, you’d notice another small hand-lettered sign on the stand that read:
Ask about our specials
Shrewd-eyed Mrs. Mavis, a retired former madam, could size up a walk-in as a potential customer or a clueless gadabout in five seconds and dealt with them appropriately. For Madam Ruby, it paid to have good help—and she, in turn, paid them well.
Jonas strode through the door to the saloon, which had been propped open with a rusted cream canister to air out the cigar smoke and the sour smell of spilled booze and nervous sweat.
Although it was well past one a.m., Sackett’s still had