“Well, he’s very welcome,” Kate said. “We’ll find a way to meet his needs.”
“Or we could ask Lieutenant Prescott,” Danny said, darting away again. “He helps everyone. I knew he’d take care of you last night.”
Kate nodded, mind already working. “He did. And we should take care of our duties too. You should probably go see if we need . . .”
“More wood brought in,” Danny finished, shoulders slumping.
Kate pulled him close once more. “I was going to say more help tasting those biscuits.”
He glanced up and back, eyes lighting. “Yes, ma’am.”
As she released him, he skipped toward the kitchen.
Kate straightened with a sigh. A shame she couldn’t be satisfied with biscuits. But the rumors were spreading. She had to fight them! Will was right that her guests knew the truth about the Geyser Gateway, but she wouldn’t have guests if the Virginia City Outfitters scared off all her customers before they even walked in the door. She’d hoped that hosting Will and his men through the winter would give her money for improvements. That money would have to go toward paying Alberta’s salary if Kate couldn’t keep the trade she’d predicted through September.
Though a Mr. Jones had not been on the list.
She checked the big guest book to be sure. There was Miss Pringle’s reservation and her precise handwriting noting her arrival. Mrs. Pettijohn’s writing was more sprawling as she claimed her room. Nothing for a Mr. Jones. Had no one even signed him in? Perhaps she should introduce herself, see how much assistance he required, after she changed into more suitable clothing.
A quarter hour later, gowned in a blue-and-white striped bodice and blue skirts, Kate went in search of her newest guest. But Alberta had no idea where Mr. Jones had gone, and most of the rooms Kate poked her nose in were empty. She finally located Pansy cleaning out the last room on the south side of the hotel. Kate had always felt the rooms comfortable, but the polished mahogany headboard, thick quilt with its green-and-brown-patterned blocks, and feather pillows looked downright luxurious after her stay in the tent camp. How could anyone complain?
“Where’s Mr. Jones?” she asked Pansy.
“He left his two horses in the barn and a saddlebag in room eleven across the way and went out again,” Pansy said, snapping the clean sheet up and out so that it floated down on the tick. “I thought he was going to view the geysers.”
Kate helped her tuck in the corners. “I’ll find him and then come back and help you with the rooms. I’m expecting a group of six from Monida later this week.”
Pansy nodded, and Kate went to walk the geysers.
Fountain was living up to its name, the spray obscuring most of the west side of the field. She stood and watched the falling water a moment, the cool breeze bringing her stray drops that left dark patches on her skirts. Sulfur clung to the air. There was no sign of a cavalryman, but Will and Private Smith would have reached their camp by now. Still, Danny was right. Will was a handy fellow to have around. He’d been right at her side until she’d gone to sleep at the tent camp. And he’d only left her alone there for practical reasons.
She sighed as she started around the field. Toby had been one to take chances, never considering the consequences. Will tended to think things through, look for possible problems, and resolve them before they grew. He appeared to be a man one could count on. The urge to do so was surprisingly strong.
She paused to watch the paint pots bubble, thick and gloppy so late in the season. She’d managed this hotel alone for a year, survived last winter as well. Why was she so willing to entertain the idea of letting someone else come alongside her, give him part of her work, her life? Wasn’t she just opening herself up to trouble?
Besides, what would happen next spring? As soon as the Department of the Interior appointed a new superintendent, the Army would leave. And Will would go with it. Did she truly want to give her heart to a man who, like Toby, would leave her behind or expect her to arrange her life to suit his?
She rounded Silex Spring and spotted another man out by Jelly Geyser. He wore stained buckskins and a coonskin cap, but he must not have any idea where the geysers were, for he was coming in from the southwest, where none existed. Kate cut across the area to try to reach him.
“Mr. Jones?” she called.
He didn’t react. Was he hard of hearing? He might wander into a paint pot if he couldn’t listen for the plop-plop. She hurried forward.
He turned then and smiled at her, stopping as if to allow her to catch up. A short, stocky, craggy-faced fellow with a rough grizzled beard and crooked teeth, he stuck out a hand. “You must be Mrs. Tremaine. I understand I just missed you yesterday at Norris. I slept in the tent camp last night with you.”
Kate accepted his hand and gave it a shake, surprised by the strong grip. “We’re glad to have you. Tell me, what do you think of the Geyser Gateway?”
He glanced past her toward the hotel. “A fine establishment. Best I’ve seen in the park.”
He sounded as if the observation came from long experience. “Have you traveled through before?” she asked, watching him.
“Once or twice.” He returned his gaze to hers, his blue eyes cool and assessing. “Maybe you could answer a question for me. What do you all do for excitement around here?”
She pointed to the east of the field. “Watch
