A hand touched Ruth's shoulder as she waited and she jumped but was quickly relieved to see that it was only Kid.

"At least you have the good sense to be jumpy," he said.

"But you don't have the good sense not to sneak up on a person." Her heartbeat returning to a normal rate, she said, "I took a peek. They've congregated around the door again."

"We'll try the back."

They found the staff entrance and knocked. The door led to the kitchen and fortunately there was someone to open the door for them.

"Thank you for opening the door," Ruth said.

"You're welcome," the slightly overweight cook replied. "I saw what went on earlier." She ladled out bowls of vegetable soup and gave generous cuts of crusty bread. "Why don't ya'll take this upstairs with you and eat. That way folks won't be tempted to bother you."

"That's kind of you, ma'am," Kid said, taking the food. "If there's anything we can for you, just let us know."

"Actually there is. I have this 3 year old niece who—"

"Just bring her to the revival," Kid said, cutting her off.

"Kid," Ruth said sternly in a low voice. "He got up on the wrong side of bed today; you'll have to forgive him. Of course, I'll see your niece. Just remember I ain't a miracle worker. All I can do for her is remind her how much God loves her and pray for her. It's in God's hands."

"I understand and thank you, ma'am," the cook said.

Out in the hall, Ruth said, "What's got you acting like a grizzly bear?"

"Folks aren't treating you right. They're acting like you're some sort of good luck charm put on this earth to get them better. I don't like it."

"Maybe to some of the folks outside, but she seemed nice and she gave us this soup. I understand that it's been a surprising and harrowing day, but you did ask her if we could do anything after all."

"You're right. I'll apologize when I see her again."

As they ate up in their room, Kid pulled out a small box from inside his pocket. "I didn't get a chance to go to the general store, but when I saw this, I knew I had to get it for you."

"Why'd you get me a present?"

"Because I love you. Do I have to have a reason?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile. "I guess not." She opened the small box to find a lovely white lace handkerchief.

"Imported from Ireland," he said though he knew she wouldn't be impressed by the information, but she would love it because he gave it to her. "I know how you like lace."

She leaned across the small nightstand that was doubling as a table for the moment and thanked him with a kiss.

"Found a promising poster too," he informed her. He was really more intent on finding the man masquerading as him, but an easy catch would come in handy right now, giving them the funds to travel on.

"I also saw Camille when I went to the saloon," he confessed. Before she had a chance to react, he rushed to add, "I made it clear to her that she was my past and you are my present and future. You do know it's a past I'm not very proud of, don't you?"

"I know. Did you learn anything?" she asked, keeping her composure and glad that he had told the truth though not so glad he had seen an old paramour.

"Not much. Camille threw me out because I spurned her advances. She's the madame now."

"You mean she owns the girls there?"

"In a manner of speaking. And the business, which comes with drinking and gambling. She's doing quite well for herself in some ways."

Sopping up the last of the soup with the last of her bread, she said, "If we need to leave for any reason, then we should. I don't want to stay St. Louis at your expense."

"Since when do you let men dictate your comings and goings? Besides, wouldn't you rest easier knowing I'd caught the one truly responsible for the robberies? St. Louis is the place to do that."

"Well, of course I would, but what about Camille? Or Matt? You think they're capable of turning you in? They do have reasons to now."

They heard voices going by the door.

"I heard that Sister Ruth is staying here."

"No fooling? What do you think she's really like?"

"My cousin said she…"

They didn't hear the rest of the conversation because they'd gone out of hearing range.

Kid smiled. "What is it you called me back when first met, a living legend? Seems like I ain't the only living legend around here anymore."

"I didn't want to make a name for myself. I wanted everyone to realize how wonderful God is." She sounded fretful.

"God knows that," he said, removing his shirt as he got into bed.

She hadn't changed yet, but she sat down on her side of the bed. "You didn't answer my question from earlier. Will they turn you in?"

"I want to forget about Matt and Camille and just enjoy my sweet wife's company," he said, unbuttoning the front of her dress for her.

"You won't be able to forget if the law is pounding on the door in the morning or even tonight," she said sharply though a bit unsteadily as his hands were caressing her chest through the thin fabric of her chemise.

His lips found her neck, calming her against her will. "I'll shoot our way to safety if I have to. Nothing could keep me from being with you. Not even the law."

"That doesn't reassure me," she murmured in his ear before succumbing and rubbing her bottom lip across his bristly cheek.

"Give me a chance and I'll do my best to try and convince you before the night's through," he promised.

sss

He was still sleeping when she woke up the next morning.

She got dressed and left a note for him telling him that she would meet him back at the hotel for lunch.

Breakfast was also provided. She grabbed a quick bite before other people started milling downstairs. She'd had better eggs, but she couldn't complain too much since she hadn't had to fix it herself and it had been a coon's age since she'd gotten to eat them.

"There's a letter for Mr. Cole," the proprietor informed her when she passed by his desk.

Ruth cringed, hoping no one had heard that. They should have signed in under false names but then Kid had stayed here before and was recognized by the man. "I'll make sure he gets it," she said as she took it from him.

It was heavily perfumed and written in a lady's flowery script. She had no qualms about opening the letter for Kid once she was out of the hotel owner's sight, especially if it was from who she thought it was from.

'Meet me in my room and we will share more memories together. I will leave the window cracked for you. Your Maîtresse, Camille'

Ruth wasn't sure what the French word meant but she was certain it wasn't friend.

A crowd still waited at the front of the hotel. She hoped this wouldn't become the norm. How could a person live like this?

"Did you enjoy breakfast?" the cook asked as she came through the kitchen.

"I did and supper was excellent. I hope you will bring your niece soon."

"I'd bring her to the revival, but she's awful shy. She'd get upset and start crying and make her condition worse."

"I understand and Kid does too. If you can bring her to the hotel this evening, we'll see what God will do."

"I will, ma'am," she said with a wide smile.

"Please, Sister Ruth."

"Sister Ruth," she echoed, her smile growing wider.

Before she made her rounds to the other churches, she wanted to take care of Camille. She found the saloon easy enough on an unsavory street. Fortunately, the street wasn't at its rowdiest this early in the day. Things wouldn't really get under way until the evening.

Ruth located the target by her superior air. She was also a little fancier dressed compared to the other women. She was pretty. Ruth hadn't expected to look like an old hag, but it didn't keep the knowledge from being painful.

"Have another whiskey for me," she was saying to a customer, batting her long eyelashes coyly.

And a man old enough to be the woman's father paid for another drink that he clearly didn't need.

"You Camille?" Ruth asked just to be sure.

"I am. Looking for a job?"

"Looking for you."

"Oh?" she said, looking almost bored.

"I came to tell you to leave Kid alone. He doesn't want to hear from you and I don't want you bothering him."

Camille suddenly grew interested and eyed her up and down. "You're the one he married?" She laughed. "And here I thought I had something to worry about."

"You do if you continue to pester him," she warned.

"What a perfectly rustic manner of speech. Kid went for that countrified charm, did he?"

"At least, I come by it honestly. Your accent sounds a little forced to me."

She smiled nastily. "Which proves that your education is lacking. By the way, lemon juice will clear those freckles right up. A little trick of the trade."

Ruth flushed partly with embarrassment and partly with anger. "Who says I want to be rid of them?"

"I just assumed that you're interested in doing everything you can to keep Kid happy because he didn't look like he's happy to me last night."

"Well, of course not. He came in to talk to some friends and you threw him out before he had a chance to do anything."

"Is that what he told you? Men, they're all alike," she said with a shake of her head. "He spent the time in my arms. He left alright but with a smile on his face, which is more than he had when he came in."

"You're a liar," Ruth accused, not believing her for a minute.

"Am I? I bet he bought you a gift to lessen his guilt."

Her hand reached into her pocket, fingering the lace on the handkerchief. She still didn't believe it.

"There are many dying to bed him," she said, dropping the French accent to communicate the honesty in this statement. "Women are drawn by his name alone: the power, the mystery, the darkness. How long do you think you can hold him?"

She had never thought of it in that way before; she had only thought of Kid leaving that part of his life behind him, but would his past let him leave? Women would throw themselves at him based on his name alone. How could he stand up to the temptation? She schooled her features, hoping the woman hadn't glimpsed her worries. "I'm not talking about other women, I'm talking about you. Leave him be."

"He doesn't know you're down here, does he? You better hurry off before he discovers his good little wife is hanging around with soiled doves and you suddenly lose your appeal."

Ruth had had enough of this woman and she spun on her heels and stormed toward the door. "Breathe, Pray," she reminded herself under her breath as she clutched her Bible close to her.

It suddenly occurred to her that Kid hadn't been the intended target of that note, she had. Ruth suddenly felt just the teeniest bit sorry for the woman. Camille was lashing out at her, trying to make her suspicious, because she'd lost Kid to her.

She forced herself to turn back around and it did take some effort even with the small iota of sympathy she had gained. "Would you come to the revival we're holding today at 4:00? It's down past that little stone farmhouse just outside of St. Louis."

"Revival?" she echoed as if she had said a foreign word.

"Kid will be there. I know he'd be happy to see you." She left on that note, feeling better in the leaving this time. A part of her hoped that she would be there and a part of her hoped that she wouldn't, but she felt like God had asked it of her and so she had done her part. The rest was up to Camille.