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assured him, backing toward the door as he divided his attention between Terrapin and Buck, who had surged to his feet, his one eye bulging from its socket. “Like I said, my bride is waiting for me, so I’d better mosey on home.” Feeling the swinging door at his back, Reno shouldered it open and nodded to Terrapin, who had both his hands on the table now. “Good evening.”
    “You’ve made an enemy tonight, I fear,” Terrapin said, drumming his long fingers on the tabletop, his eyes without any sheen of humanity, like a doll’s.
    “And I fear that the next time you start to draw on me I’ll have to shoot you,” Reno countered, before slipping between the swinging doors and into the gray night.
    “Let him go,” he heard Terrapin tell Buck.
    Nevertheless, Reno stepped lightly, his eyes searching for any movement, his senses reaching out, feeling for danger. His footfalls sounded like gunshots, so he stepped off the boardwalk and onto the softly packed dirt of the street. His heart flung itself against his chest wall and he was sweating as he neared the fog-shrouded lights of the train depot. A lamp burned in the shed out back, testing his patience.
    Reno opened the shed door and stared at the cot, table, and trunk. He gnashed his teeth, doused the lamp, and grabbed the rickety bed. Carrying it easilyand dragging the bedclothes with him, he went to the front door of the restaurant. Locked. He carried the bed around to the rear entrance. Locked.
    Setting the cot down, Reno backed up a step, aimed, and kicked. The heel of his boot connected smartly with the thin wood, splitting it and allowing the door to swing open. Reno picked up the cot and went inside. He headed for Adele’s quarters, feeling damn near invincible.
    “Well, where is he?” Sally demanded, tapping one foot and fixing that chastising expression on her face that never failed to fire Adele’s anger.
    “Who?” Adele asked. She was polishing the front counter until it gleamed. She looked toward the front door, hoping for another group of customers, but the tracks were empty and the depot deserted. In the hours between dinner and supper, the trade slackened off, giving Adele and her staff precious time to get ready for the evening rush. Usually there were stragglers wanting coffee and pie, but no one was approaching the depot, leaving Adele to deal with Sally’s persistent questioning and unrelenting disapproval.
    “You know who,” Sally retorted. “Your lazy husband. I know he didn’t sleep out back, because I checked early this morning and the cot’s not even in there. So where is he?”
    Adele lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted attempt at indifference. She knew exactly where he was, because she had discovered him passed out on the cot he had placed in her parlor. She’d heard him break down the door early this morning, but had remained shiveringin her bed, afraid he meant to force himself on her. Only when she’d heard his noisy breathing had she realized she was safe. She’d crept out of her bedroom to stare at him, his face painted by moonlight, his powerfully built body too large for the narrow cot.
    Feeling Sally’s keen regard, Adele pushed aside her musings. “I’m too busy to keep track of a grown man’s whereabouts.”
    “Adele,” Sally said, making her name a lament. “Why don’t you admit you made a big mistake marrying him? You can get an annulment. You don’t have to keep up this charade. I can see you’re upset.”
    “I’m upset because I don’t want to discuss this endlessly with you, Sally.”
    Doris McDonald came in from the kitchen, and Adele seized the opportunity to change the subject.
    “The customers seem to have fallen in love with your chicken and egg noodles,” Adele said, stepping around Sally to address the new cook.
    “That’s nice to know.” She wore a bright-green dress of fine quality and had tied on an apron. “I checked the staples today, ma’am, and we’re getting pretty low on lard