“That bad?” he asked.
“It is rather lumpy.”
“You’re always welcome to switch me spots,” he offered, rising.
She shook her head. “I’m sure the bed is still more comfortable than sleeping on the floor.”
“Most likely.” He took a moment to tuck in his red shirt and reached for his black vest on the sofa.
Lincoln watched Amey rise from the bed and walk over to her trunk. She opened the lid and pulled out her tan trousers and a white shirtwaist.
“You’re wearing trousers today?”
Amey glanced over at him. “Do you have a problem with that?”
He smirked. “Not at all,” he replied. “I find that I prefer you in trousers.”
Ignoring his comment, she said, “It’s much easier to search the woods in trousers than in a dress.”
“I’m not going to argue with you there.”
With her clothes in her hand, she hurried across the room and stepped behind the partition.
“We need to go speak to Jacob before we search through the woods.”
“I agree,” she replied, lifting her white nightgown over her head. “I find it suspicious that he didn’t reveal that he and his wife were having marital problems.”
“It makes me wonder what else he’s hiding.”
She was silent for a moment before saying, “As of right now, the only person with a motive to kill Doris is Jacob.”
“Perhaps we were too hasty to dismiss him as a suspect.”
After she was dressed, Amey stepped out from behind the partition.
“We’d better get to work,” she suggested. “We don’t have much to go on right now.”
“No, we don’t,” he agreed. “Are you ready to go eat before we head off to question Jacob?”
“Let me get my gun belt first,” she said, walking back over to the trunk.
“I must admit that I’ve never known a woman to wear a gun belt before.”
Amey buckled the belt around her hips. “I find it’s much easier to draw my weapon when it’s holstered in a belt.”
“You are a fascinating woman, Mrs. Hoyt,” he said as he opened the door.
She smiled as he hoped she would. “Thank you, Mr. Hoyt.”
After they ate a quick breakfast, they headed out of the hotel and started walking down the boardwalk toward the livery. A thin man stumbled out of the saloon and ran straight into Amey.
“Sorry about that, mister,” the man mumbled, taking a step back.
“No harm done,” she replied.
The man stopped and stared at her through blood shot eyes. “You ain’t a man. You’re a woman.”
Amey smirked. “Thank you for noticing.”
He whistled. “And a pretty one at that.” His eyes perused the length of her. “Why are you dressed like a man?”
Amey opened her mouth to respond when a man spoke up from behind them. “Leave the woman alone, Charlie.”
“It ain’t a crime to talk to a beautiful woman,” Charlie said.
A tall, middle-aged man with broad shoulders stepped off the boardwalk and approached Charlie. “It is if you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Fine,” Charlie muttered as he started backing up. “I’ll go, but only because I want to. Not because you told me to go.”
They all watched as Charlie turned on his heel and stumbled down the boardwalk.
Amey turned toward the man. “Thank you for your help.”
The man glanced knowingly down at the revolver holstered to her hip. “I’m sure you had the situation under control, but I didn’t want Charlie to get hurt. He isn’t a bad guy, but he tends to do stupid things when he’s drunk.”
“Don’t most men?” Lincoln asked.
The man chuckled. “That they do, which is what I’m counting on.” He extended his hand toward Lincoln. “My name is Edgar Vance, and I own the saloon in town.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lincoln replied, shaking his hand. “My name is Lincoln Hoyt, and this is my wife, Amey.”
Edgar tipped his hat at Amey. “What brings you to the town of Longworth?”
Amey spoke up. “We’re on our honeymoon.”
Smiling, Edgar remarked, “Ah, newlyweds. I believe congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you,” Amey murmured.
“Welcome to our small town, and if I can be of any assistance, don’t hesitate to ask,” Edgar said, his eyes lingering on Amey. “You can always find me at the saloon.”
Lincoln placed his arm around his wife’s waist and said, “Thank you. We appreciate your kindness.”
Edgar gave him a brief nod before he opened the saloon door and stepped inside.
Once the door closed, Amey stepped out of Lincoln’s arms and resumed her walk to the livery. Lincoln easily matched her stride, and they continued to walk side by side.
After they entered the livery, Amey walked up to her horse’s stall. “How are you doing today, Jasper?”
The horse nickered in response and leaned into her.
“I missed you, as well,” she said, affectionally patting Jasper’s neck.
The older livery owner, Tilford Larson, stepped out of his small office in the corner of the building. He was dressed in trousers and a red shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He approached Lincoln and asked, “Are you looking to borrow a horse for the day again?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Would the same horse work for you?”
“It would.”
Tilford stepped up to the stall that housed a black gelding and asked, “Want me to saddle him for you?”
“I can do it.”
Tilford bobbed his head. “I don’t blame you. I don’t let anyone else saddle my horse, either.” He pointed toward Jasper. “You have an unusual horse, ma’am.”
She turned to face him and asked, “Why do you say that?”
Tilford chuckled. “Last night, when I went to bring him in, your horse fell to the ground, and I thought he was dead. Once I stepped away from him, he got back up and started running around the corral. I reckon he wasn’t ready to come inside yet.”
Amey started petting Jasper’s nose. “He does have some interesting quirks.”
“You could say that, ma’am,” Tilford said in an amused tone. “Where are you folks headed today?”
Lincoln had just placed a saddle on top of his horse when Amey answered, “We are going shooting in the woods.”
“Shooting, huh?” Tilford
