The capital of Missouri was much smaller than St Louis. Jefferson City was a smattering of buildings: a hotel, a general store, and a handful of other buildings. The town would be doing well if it had more than a 100 people. If his impersonator really was here, it'd be like hunting for an elephant in a barn and he knew just the barn this elephant would be hanging out.

It took him no time at all to find the town's only saloon and as luck would have it, a boy that matched Colt Phillips' description to a tee stumbled out, having clearly been imbibing. Capturing him couldn't have been much easier unless he came with hands and feet already tied and an apple in his mouth.

Just as Kid drew his gun, he hit the ground hard. The tackle sent his recently healed aches and pains from the fight in St. Louis aching all over again.

It was hard to miss his six foot plus frame being tackled to the ground and recognition passed on the imposter's face as he took in Kid's gun and the man himself. Even in his drunken state, Colt realized at once how close he'd come to getting caught and he took off in a graceless but effective run.

"Let me up," he barked to the man who had him pinned down on the dusty street.

"And lose 250 dollars? I don't think so." The man was strong. Whatever he did for a living had left him with ox like strength. He removed his own belt to use to tie Kid's hands behind his back.

"The one you want is escaping," Kid tried to tell him.

"Nice try, but you match the description on the poster to the letter. You saying you ain't Kid Cole?"

Kid tried harder to break loose but only received a hard bump to his noggin that warned against the wisdom of trying to escape physically. It took a good 15 minutes to convince the man he was Kid Cole, but he wasn't the stagecoach robber. The only thing that convinced him at the last was to go to the stagecoach station where the couple that ran it confirmed that they had indeed received a letter from their boss warning them that the man they sought was not Kid Cole after all, but a different man and that if Kid Cole were to show up with a prisoner in tow to give them all the help he needed to bring him to Franklin.

"I—I—I'm so sorry, Mr. Cole," the man stuttered as he removed the belt at once. "I—it was an honest mistake."

Kid's mouth tightened into a grim line of annoyance. The man's apology was just wasting more precious time. "Forget it," he mumbled before heading to pursue his true quarry.

He was not happy to see the overcast skies had given way to rain; the rain was washing out any tracks, making the dirt into mud and the trail cold. A quick search through Jefferson City confirmed the boy had lit out of town sure enough. He did work out that Colt had headed out on horseback in an easterly direction.

Kid's only hope of finding him was that maybe he'd decided to run back to St. Louis like a scared rabbit, thinking it'd be easier to hide in the larger population. Maybe he'd luck out and overtake him on the way if that's where he was going.

Kid cursed as he got back up on Horse. He had been right within his grasp. This was almost a completely wasted trip.

"Blast those posters! The devil take them all," he grumbled. He was glad he'd left Ruth in St. Louis, knowing she wouldn't let the words slide without comment, but how did that Edgar fellow, the owner of the stage company, expect him to do his job if he didn't ensure the posters were taken down and new ones put up? He would earn every penny of the reward money that was for sure, but earn it he would.

sss

Like Lydia had told Sister Ruth, her ma came to check on her after the lunch that was her mother's breakfast. There was nowhere to hide the books. There was barely room for the bed, so they were setting in plain sight on the foot of the bed.

"You back to book learning?" she inquired, looking at her as if she were up to bedevilment of some sort. "I thought you were done with that nonsense?"

"It ain't nonsense."

"You talking back to me, girl?"

"No, ma'am," Lydia answered her right away.

"I didn't think so."

Her ma picked up the books and flipped through them as if she were interested, but Lydia knew better and wished for the neglect again that while not a comforting feeling at least made her invisible in instances like these.

Lydia cringed as her mother ripped pages out of the primer and let them flutter carelessly to the floor. Fortunately not too many pages were lost before she threw both books unceremoniously to the ground. If there'd been a fireplace, that's probably where they'd have ended up. That was one small comfort at least that they weren't totally lost.

"Let me get this through your thick head," her ma said, "you're nobody and all the book smarts in the world ain't going to change that."

"Sister Ruth thinks I'm somebody," Lydia mumbled eyes on the ground and face red.

"She don't want you. You're her little charity case, her good deed to make herself feel good and better than the rest of us. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."

"What if she could? What if I can talk her into letting me go with her and starting over fresh further out west where people don't know me?"

"You ungrateful brat," she said, giving a ringing slap to her daughter's cheek. "And leave your poor ma here? Is that it?"

"You could go with us," Lydia said brightening. "People wouldn't know you out there either. You could find you a husband."

She laughed loudly and unpleasantly. "Stupid girl. You don't think I've been proposed to over the years? I have and it's too late anyway, so you can get that out of your head right now. Face reality. It's time you grew up."

Her ma slammed the thin door, cracking it more than it already was and Lydia threw herself on her bed, tears blurring her vision.

Why did all of her plans seem to go awry? Was she doomed to live here forever? She didn't like the way Joe, the brothel's owner had been eying her of late. Some still, small voice told her that she had to escape this place and she had to escape it soon.