The crowing of the rooster nearby woke Trish before sun up. She sat up rigidly with a gut-wrenching realization. She had figured wrong. Today was the day she had to return home if she planned to, not tomorrow. And she had no idea where the clothes she'd worn that very first day were. She couldn't leave them here; leaving the chance of changing history. She must find them and that meant facing a grieving widow. She hadn't seen Lucinda since being turned over to Zelda and her capable friendship. What would she say to a woman whose husband had died in her arms?
Trish tiptoed down the saloon steps dressed as conservatively as Zelda's clothing allowed, the talisman tucked securely between her breasts. She trudged step after step toward Lucinda's. Every step seemed to bring another fear. What would she say? Did Lucinda know Trish had held her dying husband in her arms? Had the local law, in the form of Sheriff Tuckett, formally filed Albert's death as a murder? Was he capable of finding the truth? Did anyone suspect her? Had anyone seen her enter the livery? Had someone seen her leave? Had they seen the blood on her clothing? She should have burned the clothes. Why didn't she burn them? Did it even matter?
Her feet stopped a yard from Lucinda's door. She swallowed hard, trying to summon her courage. She stepped forward, her hands shaking and knocked…once, twice, three times. The door swung open. Lucinda's smiling face, though appearing tear stained, greeted her.
"Good mornin', honey. I didn't expect to see you this mornin'."
Trish felt the corners of her mouth pull for a brief smile. "Morning, Lucinda. I--" Her thoughts raced, torn between being polite and the need to keep this painfully short. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry and-- I need to get my things. There's really no need for you to have to worry about them."
Lucinda stepped back. Trish wondered if she'd said too much yet knew she hadn't said enough.
"I'm so sorry," Lucinda apologized. "Things--it's been so-- They're right here. I really did plan to bring them down to you."
"It isn't a problem. I know it's been a difficult week for you. I'm so sorry about Albert."
A smile tugged at Lucinda's lips. "Thank you." Silence pierced the air between them as the bundle of clothing passed from hand to hand. "Trish?"
"Yes."
"What? I mean you have some-- What where those tiny blue things?"
Trish felt the color in her cheeks explode. "Um-- underclothing."
"Strange--"
"Lucinda, I really hate to be rude, but I need to be going. I just didn't want to inconvenience you any longer." Trish hurried to the door.
"It was no trouble." Lucinda sounded like she had a thousand questions. Questions Trish knew she shouldn't answer.
"Thank you. I better be going." Trish sprinted for the livery, sliding to a stop to open the heavy door. Her forward motion carried her into the door as someone pushed it open. A startled squeak escaped as her head met the hard wood. She crumpled.
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 38