“He won’t look like that now, Miss Lyensdon. I’ve never seen him in clothes he would wear working in a mine. He’s, well, he dresses more like Mr. Targett does, if you don’t mind my saying that.”

She looked as Will’s clothes as though she needed to see what he was wearing, which was not true at all. No one else could look like that. When she looked back out the window, she made herself concentrate, moving her eyes up and down the street until she had seen everyone there. After that she watched for newcomers to enter her range of vision.

For half an hour the three of them waited, the little man at a side window. Finally he walked away from the window. “He won’t pay attention to me if he sees me. I believe I should go out there and see if he is still in town. We may have to change our plans if he’s not going to come this way. Let me go and see.”

“I can go,” Will said with a glance at Danielle.

“No, you do not know this town as well as I do. It will take me less time to look where he might be.” He did not seem to think there was any reason not to leave Danielle and Will alone in a hotel room, and he hurried out without waiting for an argument.

“Did you ask him to do that?” Danielle asked as his footsteps hurried down the uncarpeted hall.

“No. You heard me say I could go instead.”

“I thought…after last night, perhaps….”

“You’re here to watch for Silko. You better keep your eyes on the street.” His face was as impassive as Bud Gillette’s, and she turned away wanting to sob out loud at the pain he was causing her.

He set his hands on his hips and glared down into the street. Neither said anything for ten minutes, the silence almost more than Danielle could stand. “I don’t understand you, Will Targett.”

“What is it you don’t understand?”

She glanced at him, but he was staring steadily out the window. “Why did you follow me from Deadwood—then leave—then come back?”

His jaw tightened, the muscles rippling before they settled into deep lines around his mouth. “You know why.”