Winter Kill. William W. Johnstone
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Название: Winter Kill
Автор: William W. Johnstone
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Вестерны
Серия: The Last Gunfighter
isbn: 9780786024551
isbn:
By the time Frank got back to the hotel, people were going into the dining room for supper. He looked through the arched entrance for Fiona, but didn’t see her. Turning instead to the stairs, he started up to the second floor.
Fiona appeared at the landing when Frank was halfway up, followed by the twelve young women. Frank stopped and watched as they started to descend, talking and laughing among themselves. It was a sight to behold, he thought. True, not all of them could be considered beauties, but they were all sweet and appealing, even the somewhat prissy Gertrude. Frank was old enough to be their father, of course, so he didn’t feel drawn to them himself, but he could imagine how some miner stuck in the wilds of Alaska would react to any one of them. It was no wonder that Fiona’s business was successful. A man could get mighty lonely, and only the soft touch of a woman could ease the ache he felt inside.
Fiona paused and smiled at him. “Is everything ready, Frank?” she asked.
“It will be. Our supplies will be delivered to the boat tomorrow morning in plenty of time for Captain Hoffman to sail on schedule.”
“That’s wonderful!” She came on down the steps and linked her arm with his. “You’ll join us for supper?”
“Well, I thought I might clean up a little…” He didn’t mention that he’d been rolling on the deck of the Montclair a couple of hours earlier, tussling with Brewster.
Meg came down the steps and took his other arm. “I think you’re fine just the way you are, Mr. Morgan,” she said. “Don’t you, girls?”
Several of them smiled and nodded. Frank had no choice but to say, “All right, then. I’d be honored to join you ladies.”
He thought about all the solitary meals he had eaten on some lonely trail, often with men pursuing him who wanted to kill him, not knowing if he would live to see the sun rise the next morning. Now he was about to sit down to eat at a table with a snowy white cloth on it, set with fine china, surrounded by a dozen young women and a somewhat older one who was even lovelier. He regretted Jacob Trench’s death, of course…
But right now he was sort of glad he had come to Seattle.
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