Kitty glanced both ways warily, careful not to draw attention to herself. So far, not one of her former associations really knew where she was staying or that she now worked as a laundress at the Whitman Hotel. Any that she’d come across since leaving still believed her to be a lady of the night at the saloon at the south end of Denver. It suited her just fine.

She snorted. Never again would she allow herself to be one of them. No matter her circumstances. Luckily, she hadn’t ended up pregnant like Maisey although she suspected it would have happened soon if she’d stuck around. She got lucky; in the sloppy, brainless men she took to her bed and those she stole from.

Kitty scurried into Leonard's mercantile where rich folks like Audrey would order special items out of large catalogs from stores back east. She had known some women who had saved for years to get a specialty tea set. Not her. Tea was like dirt and she wasn't desperate enough to drink it. If anything, she would have saved for a specialty hair comb. But it wasn’t ever in her circumstances to save for a comb. Food and lodging were the preferable items.

The doorbell clanged above the door, announcing her arrival. The old man, Leonard, sat on a rickety stool behind the counter. A young kid filled a crate full of goods for a man with a religious white collar around his neck.

Kitty perked a brow, watching the man intently. His large bulky frame appeared compressed in the attire of a reverend. His dark cedar brown hair was slicked back reminding her of a back-alley gambler. He seemed to be a contradiction and she was always leery of contradictions.

She dipped into a different part of the store, listening and watching out of the corner of her eye. Kitty faked admiring bolts of cloth all neatly displayed in standing racks. The man whipped out a fat coin purse. Kitty refrained from getting the mischievous gleam in her eye as she carefully locked eyes on her intended target.

Her fingers wriggled, wondering about the opportune moment to strike. She wasn't above stealing. Even with her job at the hotel, she feared at any moment she could be jobless. Events in her life had gotten away from her, forcing her hand more often than not. Luck was never on her side.

Nothing good is ever promised, she thought. Never lasts terribly long anyway. She eyed the man cautiously, slowly taking a turn about the mercantile. The man’s eyes were like fresh spring grass, bright, emerald, and vibrant, noticeable even from the awkward angle she was at. A wide, pink scar trailed the left side of his face from the corner of his eye, straight down to his jaw. The scar made him look dangerous and she shivered a little, wondering what had a reverend done to earn such a scar.

Kitty feigned fingering cloth, flipping through the few bolts and acting like she was thoroughly interested. She had learned the trick several times. Men did not pay particular attention when it came to random women. Even more so when women were shopping.

I’m shopping for a quick pick, she mused. The man rocked back on his heels, returning the coin purse to his back pocket. Kitty rolled her eyes. Keep it in your chest pocket, goose. This is almost too easy.

The man turned to her and smiled. Kitty smiled back, fawning her lashes. He quickly turned back around. She held in a snort.

“Good to see you again, Vaughn,” the store owner said. “Have you settled in yet?”

The reverend shrugged his shoulders. “As much as I can be,” he replied. “Do you know when the barber happens to open?”

Leonard nodded, “Around ten or so. Mr. Rogers is his name. He is just past the doc office on the corner.”

“Thank you.”

Kitty pursed her lips. For being large, I’d figure his voice would be deep like a bear, she mused with a shrug. Sounds just like any man I suppose. She stopped fingering the fabric, opting to look at something else. Her eyes caught on the bright candy behind the counter. Her mouth salivated. She liked candy, especially the mints or taffy though there were none here.

“Have you spoken with Reverend Kester?” Leonard pried.

Vaughn shook his head. “He and his family left for Oregon before I got a chance to speak with him. He left me a kindly letter though.”

Leonard nodded. “He was a good man. I really enjoyed the way he preached. I’m certain I will like yours here in a few days.”

The man breathed out. “Thank you kindly, Leonard.”

Kitty perked a brow. She hadn’t ever seen a preacher of any kind not preen at praise or not seem confident when talking about his profession. She shrugged it off. He was a target and nothing more than a quick pick to satisfy her itch to not be struggling for cash. Maybe she might be able to get fully out of Denver with this pull.

She stayed where she was, contemplating following through. She so far had made a show of being a disinterested browser and now she was committed to getting something and acting like an airheaded goon. Her time to strike was near at hand. She just had to play her game a touch longer.

Mama said idle hands belong to the devil, Kitty snorted. Well Mama, yours and mine both, only mine kept me alive, no thanks to you, damned no good alcoholic woman. She felt her fingers tingle, flexed them and shoved them into her dress pockets.

The kid who had been loading the crate came over to her, “Ma’am?” he began politely, “May I help you?”

She heard the door jingle and knew the reverend had left. She kept her face impassive though inside she was kicking herself for missing her moment.

Kitty cleared her throat, pulling out a coin she always kept in her pocket for times such as these when she believed her moment to strike had passed. She learned she had to put on a friendly front, smile and act chipper, buy a piece of candy to end possible suspicion. Hardly anyone suspected women, and if they thought a woman acted a little oddly, most assumed it was that monthly moment since she bought a sugary treat. She’d even fooled women this way.

“The candy there please,” Kitty stated, pointing to the red stick in the jar.

The boy grabbed the jar, using tongs to pull out the treat and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she replied, heading out the door.

She despised licorice; the taste, the chewiness. She ambled up the sidewalk, passing the reverend, and handing off her candy to a little boy sitting outside on the bench in front of Doc Collins’. The kid beamed at her, saying a triumphant thanks. Kitty smirked, heading up the road.

Today was blown. She felt it in her gut. She never did anything dubious when her gut felt strange. Kitty did once, and it landed her in deep waters. A few tears for the sheriff and a promise got her out of that particular situation. Still, it had scared her enough that she’d learned never to ignore her gut again.

“Ma’am!”

Kitty spun around, her eyes narrowing on the preacher from the store.

“I saw you lingering in the store. Are you alright?”

Biscuits, she thought. I became a rusty nail. Vaughn, if she remembered correctly, paused in front of her, hands clasped in front of him and holding a Bible. She eyed it. She never remembered seeing him with it. What was he hoping to do with it? Kitty held in a breathy snort. Like a bible could save her damned soul.

Kitty tilted her head, watching him, and how his green eyes studied her in return. Even on the slight increase of the hill, Vaughn dwarfed her in height and in width. Vaughn wriggled the white collar on his neck, pulling on it like it was a touch too snug. Her lips pursed and she wondered how long it had been since she stepped inside a church of any kind? She didn’t rightly know. Nor did she care.

Kitty smiled. “Just fine, thank you.”

He nodded. “I’m Vaughn Grant,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Kitty Jones,” she replied, leaving his hand hanging while her chin tipped slightly up.

“I hope to see you at church on Sunday.”

She smiled, hoping the awkward terseness didn’t show on her face. “You might.”

“Please be sure to come. I’d love to see a familiar and beautiful face in the crowd. Besides, everyone needs God since life can be so difficult. Only He can make it easier,” he said with finality, his green eyes boring straight into hers.

Kitty’s eyes narrowed. “Certainly,” she replied.

She turned on her heel and marched up the road, turning left. She ducked behind a crack in between buildings, maneuvering through the tight spaces and ducking out of view of the few store windows she passed.

“Ma’am?” Vaughn called. “Ms. Jones?”

Kitty scowled. I will have to head on a different side of town if I want to pickpocket enough to take me south to Amarillo, or someplace else. Then I can start over, away from this damned city, state, and the memories – where no one knows my face or name.

She edged around a building, peering out as the broad frame of Vaughn turned back down the hill. Hiking up her dress, she dashed across the road, and quickly climbed the steps to the Whitman Hotel. Her morning adventures were thwarted for the day anyway. It was time to begin a job she wasn't certain how long she would have.

Vaughn smirked at her ingenuity. The woman, he was certain, was trying to pickpocket him. He knew the signs. The feigned interest in items around them, sheer desperation often reflecting in their eyes. The hard life that often caused many innocent young women to turn to unsavory means to keep themselves alive; though he did not see the desperation in her eyes. It had been fairly common in Boston, but he did not think it was all that common in Denver. Clearly he was wrong.

The way the woman acted irked him. She was calculating, controlled – the gleam in her eye gave way to her silent need, as if it was a matter of life or death; from the way her fingers flexed to the way her chocolate brown eyes watched him, she wanted what he had. Her buying the piece of licorice then passing the candy off to a child solidified his suspicion that he was her target. It was a move he hadn’t seen done often, though she did so with poise and a smile.

He sighed, running his fingers through his slicked back oiled hair and altering the position of the overly long mop on his head. I need a haircut, he reminded himself. He strode back down the hill toward his horse and buggy. Since taking over the church from Reverend Kester a week ago, he had made some improvements to the church itself and to the home attached behind it. The roof on the south side had been repaired and the few soft floorboards in the house had been replaced. In all, it was wonderful to have a roof over his head, something he’d never take for granted, especially since his own time without one.

Vaughn scanned the streets and buildings for the pretty redhead, though he did not find her. He smirked, blowing air out his nose. I reckoned I wouldn’t find her anyway. I pray she is alright though.

He clambered in his buggy, throwing the brake and giving the reins a light tap.

“Come on, Huck,” he said.

His horse jostled the tack, not appreciating being hitched to a contraption when he preferred a saddle. Huck moved, tossing his head and stomping his foot.

“The faster you get moving, the faster I can take it off,” Vaughn reminded the horse with amusement.

Huck moved, maneuvering into the street with careful precision. Vaughn continued to scan the streets for signs of the woman. Not many out here had vibrant cherry red hair and wide doe-like chocolate eyes. In all, she was a pretty lady. And from what he could gather by her left hand, an unmarried one, which may largely explain why she’d been out picking pockets.

Vaughn watched the great Whitman Hotel pass on his right as he continued up the hill toward his church and home. He had two days to create a sermon, his first one here in Denver. He was uncertain what to speak about, besides giving a quick introduction of himself.

He frowned. What would I even say -- Hello good people of Denver, I’m a former thief turned reverend, and I came here to be a better person? It would create suspicion. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders. No, better to keep that tid-bit to myself.

Since turning a new leaf and learning from the Good Book, Vaughn left his old life behind in Illinois and came here with plans to build fresh, to work on himself before searching for a wife.

He scratched the back of his neck. If a wife and a family is in the plan for me, he thought. A family sounds nice, but I need to work on changing myself more. He glanced all around, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Denver. Even though he had been here a week, it was all so fresh and new; wonderful and cheerful.

Vaughn turned right up the road just past a place called Lena’s Doves. He perked a brow as he passed, wondering what kind of place it happened to be. He passed it often enough since being in Denver though he knew not what it was, yet. He doubted it was a diner since not many people entered or left that place. Vaughn sighed deeply at the sight of the white church and large iron cross on top of the building. The brass bell shone in the morning light, gleaming like a beacon of hope to those who were lost.

Parking the buggy outside the front of the home, around the back of the church, he quickly went about unhitching Huck from the front of it. His appaloosa stomped his hoof impatiently.

“Simmer down Huck,” Vaughn chided.

His horse swung his head, pulling back his teeth to nip him.

“Never again, I promise.”

With Huck unhitched from the buggy, he turned him loose in a shared pasture with the Hartford’s two animals. Picking up the wooden poles, he maneuvered the buggy to the side in a corner where the church became wider and his house smaller. Dusting off his hands from the task, he pulled out his crate to head inside.

“Reverend Grant,” a woman’s voice lilted.

He turned around slowly on his heel, feeling his skin prickle. The woman’s voice was high, almost nasally. Her mouse brown hair, curled and loose around her face, bounced with her rapid movement toward him.

“Ma’am,” he replied, setting his crate down on the porch step. “What can I do for you?”

The woman wrung her hands together, head down. She bounced from foot to foot. Vaughn scowled, attempting to understand her distress. The woman glanced up, eyes so brimming with tears he couldn’t make out the color.

“I need to ask you something regarding the Bible,” she said in a soft whisper, the tone and dramatics changing entirely and a sniffle behind her words.

“Certainly,” he replied, offering her a chair on the porch.

She shook her head. “I,” she cleared her throat. “I have sinned. I have wronged many, mainly my cousin’s former husband in my desperate desires for him. And even though Reverend Kester has absolved me of these sins, I cannot help but wonder if I’m truly cleansed? Since I have repented, requested forgiveness not only from those I have wronged, but from God, will I be allowed into heaven?”

Vaughn tried not to smile for he too, once baptized and given the graciousness of God, and turned his life around, had these same feelings. It was a constant battle between gratefulness that his sins were completely absolved and an utter disbelief that he was completely forgiven.

“Absolutely, for God wishes for you to come to Him. And you have. Trust that you are absolutely absolved, that you are worthwhile and loved,” Vaughn replied softly. “Ephesians states – for by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

The woman nodded, her brown curls bouncing with the movement. “But I have not received forgiveness from those I have wronged. I have asked -”

Vaughn cut her off before her mind could run away with itself. “Asking is all you can do. I understand how hard this all is. Trust me when I tell you, I have felt those same emotions you are now. But if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses, Matthew 6:15,” he paused, pulling out a kerchief from his back pocket and handing it to the woman. She dabbed her eyes, so he continued, “You also have to forgive yourself. God has forgiven you of all sins when you came to Him. What others do is upon their shoulders. You are not responsible for them. And it is true that you’re not.”

“Thank you, Reverend,” the woman said. “I… I just want to do and be better.”

“Then that’s all that matters. What God desires is in your heart - to be true and righteous. Will you be alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

Vaughn glanced around, wondering where the woman had come from. “Would you like me to escort you somewhere safe?”

“The Whitman Hotel would be nice. I have some fri-acquaintances there,” she said softly as if the word ‘friend’ would have been too painful to express.

Vaughn offered his elbow to her, keeping her on his left as they strolled out past his church and toward the sidewalk leading down to the hotel. He kept himself toward the roadside, all the while watching the woman battle with her inner thoughts. Her face went from pinched to relaxed, to worrying her bottom lip, to tears lining her long lashes.

“I apologize for my manners. What is your name?” he asked.

She picked her head up, turning large brown eyes on him. “Charlene Brandt.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance. I’m Vaughn Grant.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Reverend. I apologize for being a mess of a woman.”

He shook his head. “There is no such thing, I believe.”

Vaughn led her up the steps to the Whitman Hotel, opening the first door and briskly walking across the small foyer to get the next one. The building was large, well-kept and clean, smelling of fall leaves and cinnamon.

He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet aroma of baking. Upon opening, a grand staircase that split off to either side met his gaze along with that of the redheaded woman from earlier carrying a bundle of laundry.

Vaughn perked a brow, watching her carry the load down the steps. Her eyes had yet to meet his. He was now curious about her and wondered if he’d misjudged the reason for her trying to pickpocket since she was very clearly employed.

“I trust you will be fine?” Vaughn asked, taking his eyes off the beautiful redhead.

Charlene nodded. “Yes. Thank you kindly Reverend.”

Vaughn dipped his head and strode out of the hotel. He had a sermon to write and a woman to figure out.

Kitty arched a leery brow over the laundry bundle in her arms. The man from earlier stood by the front desk with Charlene. The brown curly haired woman, who all the employees of the Whitman Hotel seemed cautious about, had her head down and tears staining her cheeks.

She maneuvered toward the back of the hotel, acting like she did not see him, or Charlene, at all. In her arms was her only wash of the day. Though she figured she would be busier as winter months rolled in. Already the weather was changing to the bitterness of winter with biting winds and iciness.

Soon, she would need some extra help, though the job was easy enough. It paid well, more than what she expected it to and more than most would around Denver. She heard the owner say once - better to pay a touch more than most, than to see these ladies who are like my family out in a horrible predicament.

Kitty frowned, opening the back door. I wouldn’t ever steal from this place, but even Audrey’s wages aren't enough it feels like, though they are, and I should be satisfied. I cannot seem to break the habit of needing a backup plan. She grumbled to herself. I just need to get away from here.

She frowned further, not liking the desperation in her head. She wasn't always so hungry for money, but since being abandoned by Uri when they were supposed to get married, made her quickly realize having another plan of action was imperative to survival; for nothing, not even a plan, guaranteed her future. And since Uri left her destitute, she was forced to think quickly.

Curse that man, she thought, feeling the familiar prickle of abandonment sting behind her eyes.

Her sister Thea told her being a mail-order bride wasn't terrible. And Thea would know. She was one and happily married. Kitty decided to respond to an ad in the local paper via telegram and instantly got a reply. She packed what she could and sold the rest, making her way toward Missouri. Only when she got there, her intended was already tongue deep in another woman.

Not wanting to fall back on Thea and her husband for support and help, she lied and said how grand the new life she made for herself in Missouri was. It panged her heart to write that letter. She left Missouri for Denver, waiting a few months to write her sister another letter saying that they all moved to Denver for work. She received several letters from Thea then she just quit replying. It hurt her heart too terribly to continue to lie to her sister. It was better to say nothing at all.

Kitty set the laundry down on the table outside where she washed the linen. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of the soap in the hot washtub. The soap dried out her hands, making them cracked. Audrey had given her a small tub of lotion to use for her hands.

She gave the linen a quick wash as it wasn’t very dirty today and put it through the machine once.

“Kitty,” the hotel owner’s voice lilted.

“Yes ma’am?” Kitty replied, pausing in her task.

“Could you help out in the kitchen this evening for the supper rush?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Audrey clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Thank you, dear.”

Kitty perked a brow at her disappearing backside scurrying into the hotel. She wasn't sure how a woman could be so constantly chipper. Clearly she hadn’t experienced much hardship in her life. She heard tell once that the hotel owner was kidnapped by a gang. She wasn’t sure it was true given her vibrant nature.

If it is true, they probably returned her for being overly happy, she mused, then felt a sting of guilt. She’s a nice woman.

She scowled, bunching the linen to take inside to put by the woodstove to dry. Coming back out, she emptied the washtub and put it back inside the laundry room for the next day. Having the rest of the morning to herself afforded her the opportunity to slink to the southside of Denver; back to the place where her and Maisey came from most recently. Supper wouldn’t start until a touch before noon, giving her a couple hours to prowl for her next target. It was curious to her that even boom towns like this, founded on a crazed gluttonous need of gold, had their good sides and poor sides.

Maybe heading back that way won’t be such a keen idea, she thought. On the south end, she was distinguishable. Not many women had her fire-red locks and fair complexion. The only other redhead such as herself didn’t have freckles, where she had plenty to go around.

I’ll head north and see what’s there, she decided, her feet taking her down the worn path toward the vacant stables. No one here truly knows me yet and if things get sour, I’m a train hop away from somewhere else. Kitty shoved her hand in her dress pocket to the coin purse stitched to her dress, holding her money. She made a coin purse inside each dress, stitched to the dress itself and closed with a button. She always kept them upon her person just in case something went sour, so she had a means to get away.

Her fingers tingled, itching to get a hold of some unsuspecting person’s riches. It was terrible of her. She knew the commandments of God, yet didn’t care. Clearly, He didn’t care either when it came to her. She was left on her own for far too long and if God did care, then why didn’t He intervene to make her life better? Wasn’t it God who said He wanted everyone to have salvation and love?

Kitty blew her lips. Good for nothing mama and a sister who lucked out. “You can’t be a burden no longer Katherine,” Thea used to tell me, “find yourself a man here or become a mail-order bride. It’s not terrible and you cannot linger here.” Kitty flexed her hands, striding off up the sidewalk. I’m not a burden anymore, Thea, she growled.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. She turned left down the street she had earlier this morning and slunk off into a different area. Pressing her back against the wooden sanctuary of the building she was hiding behind, she peeked her head out from around the corner.

That Reverend, she glared, watching his tall muscular frame constrict in the much too small attire. Good gracious, he is gonna try to save me when he sees me again… Kitty blew her lips. I don’t need saving. Once upon a time, I wanted to be saved. Learned the hard way. The only person who can save me is myself and what I decide to do to survive, Kitty snuck back, heading back the way she came. She bit her bottom lip, wondering how she was going to do what she needed to with him lurking on her trail.

She jogged across the street, glancing both ways. Shirking behind a small shed, she peered around it for that nosey reverend. Not seeing him, she went toward his church.

Surely there had to be riches gained. And churches, as she discovered a while back, were a plethora of things. The first time she’d stolen from a church, she felt sick to her stomach, for who wanted to take from God’s place? But as she figured it, He wasn’t around and it was survival of the fittest.

Kitty wasn’t fast. She wasn’t overly smart or beautiful to land her somewhere fancy. She was what her mother called mediocre in looks and smarts and her sister called graced with agreeable eyes. And because Uri decided to have another woman on the day of their impending nuptials and cast her aside claiming she was the unfaithful, Godless party, she had nothing and no one. But the someone who had items to aid her survival, was the reverend who had seemed to peer into her very soul this morning causing her to feel all kinds of guilt and second thoughts.

She snuck into the open church, careful to tiptoe and stay out of the open windows. Peering to her right through the closest window, she spied the reverend.

Damn it to hell, she cursed.

Squatting down, she stalked her way toward the pulpit where she was certain would be the box of money. People were always generous when it came to the church, but generosity when it came to those down on their luck was a different story.

The front door of the church opened. The sun from behind the man cast a shadow on the floor, making the reverend’s already large frame gigantic.

“Ah, I have a visitor,” he said.

“Tying my shoe,” she replied.

“I’m sure.”

His voice revealed some amusement mixed with some doubt. Kitty frowned and nodded, feeling the thunder in her heart quicken. He strode over to her, kneeling down beside her.

Her nose wrinkled at his earthen scent. She was surprised a man would smell such a way. She assumed she would inhale the sickly smell of tallow or dust or even the balminess of death.

“So, Miss, what brought you to my humble little church?”

Kitty swallowed and shrugged. “Nothing much. I was just out taking an afternoon walk and thought I’d come and see what you had done to the building. You had invited me to church earlier.”

“That I did. I’m glad you came. So, tell me a little about you. Have you been in Denver for long?”

“Just over a year and a half. Came in from Missouri. Got off the train, spied a cheating fiancé and hopped right back on and kept going,” she paused wondering why she’d said so much.

Must be those vivid green eyes. They made her want to trust him. She swallowed again, wanting to tell him more and held back.

He smiled tenderly at her. “Sounds like he wasn’t a very smart man.”

She stared straight ahead to avoid his emerald eyes and to attempt to hide the blush creeping unwantedly to her cheeks. “Plum wasn’t.”

Vaughn rose to his feet, offering his hand. “If you’re done tying your shoe, allow me to help you rise.”

Kitty fiddled with her black shoe lace for a moment, further committing to the act of tying an already tied lace. She took his hand, having felt sorry for rebuking his handshake earlier. He kindly helped her to her feet with a twinkle in his eye.

“That iron cross on the wall my cousin built a few years back out of scraps. And the cashbox on the table below the cross is emptied every Sunday night. Whatever doesn’t go toward the church for upkeep goes to charity,” he said.

Kitty watched him cautiously out of the corner of her eye. Feeling herself become heated with a touch of embarrassment mixed in with anger. He was onto her and had been. Kitty frowned slightly.

“Supposedly the stained-glass window had been here for some time, prior to my cousin. It’s pretty isn’t it?”

Standing beside him, she felt paltry in comparison to him. She met him in the eye and nodded. “It is pretty,” she commented.

He smiled at her. The large scar on the side of his face crinkling with the movement. She took in his appearance, his dark brown hair, almost close to ebony in color and his soft, bright green eyes. His face, tanned, rugged with brown stubble made her swallow.