Chapter 4

four

"Almost every day I hear of places where I want to go but cannot as I have no means of conveyance. I want to spend several months, or years perhaps, exploring the country around here."

~Earl Douglass

S UNDAY , J UNE 25, 1916 · J ENSEN

It had been far too long since she'd arrived in Utah, and Eliza still hadn't made it to church. Goodness, she should be ashamed of herself. But there had been much to do, and she hadn't asked about local congregations or a way to get to them. The past two Sundays, she'd overslept and even missed breakfast. Her host family had been long gone by the time she awoke.

Something Grandmama would give her a serious reprimand over, if she knew.

Eliza smoothed a few flyaway hairs into place and stared at herself in the mirror. Her skin glowed with a slight tan. Just one more thing Grandmama would mention. However, out here in Utah, it was nearly impossible to keep one's complexion pale. She snatched her hat off the end of her bed and meticulously pinned it into place. It would have to do.

What she really wanted to don were her dungarees and loose work shirt so she could get out there and dig. Her fingers itched to pick up her tools and join Mr. Douglass in excavating the quarry. Catching the wayward trail of her thoughts, Eliza shook her head. No. She needed fellowship with other believers far more than anything else.

She hid her yawn with a hand and made her way down the stairs and out the front door. Mr. Adams had promised to leave her a conveyance so she could go to church rather than her riding the horse she usually took out to the quarry.

When she opened the front door, a smile curved her lips. A lovely horse and buggy awaited her.

But as soon as she left the shade of the front porch, the heat of the morning hit her in the face. Gracious, it was hot. The fan attached to her wrist would definitely get a great deal of use today.

As she climbed into the buggy and took hold of the reins, sweat ran down her back. If this was an indication of the rest of the summer here in Jensen, she might have to rethink her clothing choices for work.

While it had been important to dress well for the incoming crowds, the added weight of her fine clothing made the heat almost stifling. But Mr. Carnegie's expectations were high. Especially since she never knew when one of their visitors would turn up and introduce themselves as friends of his. Wealthy and the cream of the crop of society. Which even though Mr. Carnegie was one hundred percent sold out for his philanthropy and expressed that he didn't care about people's class and social status, he still reminded her how important it was to teach the next generation to use their wealth in an upstanding and gracious manner.

So her dungarees were still neatly folded in the trunk. For now. But perhaps, a few layers of her finery could stay at home from now on.

Eliza turned on to the main road that ran alongside the Adams's property, thankful for the slight breeze against her skin. One of the church options Mrs. Adams told her about was located on the edge of town, a mere fifteen-minute ride. She shifted the reins in her hands, grateful the horse seemed a gentle sort. Sending up a prayer of thanks for the generosity of her hosts, Eliza scanned the horizon, admiring the way the mesas stretched across the land. She'd never seen anything like the red, gray, and white rock that littered the terrain, and the vast horizons that stretched for miles. Back home, there was a lot more lush and green, a lot less dirt and rock. Rolling hills and trees shaped the country outside Pittsburgh, while here, it was rugged and wild. Though she was growing accustomed to the scenery, it still took her breath away.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork."

The verse brought a smile to Eliza's face. "Today is definitely a day when Your glory is on display, Lord." She turned her attention back to the road.

Soon, the small white church Mrs. Adams recommended came into view. Nerves bubbled in her stomach. If only Mrs. Adams was with her, but since they had a family event several miles away, they would be gone all day.

Here she was. On Sunday morning. Venturing to church on her own.

Alone.

She'd never had to go anywhere new by herself. To make her own introductions. To try and fit in. Why, even at the quarry, she'd been expected and introduced immediately to Mr. Douglass.

It was unsettling to think about. Going someplace where she didn't know a soul. But heavens, she was twenty-seven years old. Just because she'd always had the advantage in society to be well-known and chaperoned to all events didn't mean she couldn't stand on her own two feet.

There couldn't be that many people out here anyway.

Farmers? Ranchers? Families from the little town of Jensen? How intimidating could that be?

By the time she reached the small building, her insides were in complete knots. The temptation to turn around and go back to bed was strong.

But no. She could do this. She would do this.

Her neglected Bible needed opening, and her dry soul needed a bit of refreshment.

When she entered the building, the pianist began an introduction to a hymn.

Taking a seat in a pew in the back, she dared not look at any of the curious eyes staring at her. As soon as she was situated, the rest of the congregation stood and began to sing.

All the way my Savior leads me;

What have I to ask beside?

Can I doubt His tender mercy,

Who through life has been my Guide?

Heav'nly peace, divinest comfort,

Here by faith in Him to dwell!

For I know, whate'er befall me,

Jesus doeth all things well,

For I know, whate'er befall me,

Jesus doeth all things well.

Eliza studied the back of the small crowd as they finished the hymn, and then everyone took their seats again. Her eyes widened. Not one of the women was wearing anything fancier than a bonnet. And here she sat with what Devin called one of her monstrosities on top of her head.

If the massive thing hadn't been seriously pinned into place, she might consider taking it off here and now.

And her dress. Granted it was the plainest one she owned, but it was a great deal fancier than any of the other attire in the room.

Heat rose to her face. She forced herself to swallow down the desire to escape. She was in church after all. The place where everyone was equal before God. It didn't matter what one wore, right?

A large man with a weathered-looking Bible in his hand frowned at the congregation as he read from the Scriptures. His voice boomed in the small space, as he emphasized a lot of negative words from whatever passage he was preaching from—he jumped from one to the other without giving any references. She flipped around in her Bible and finally gave up.

Eliza frowned. The way he spoke left her... beaten down.

This service wasn't encouraging at all.

In fact, it made her enormously uncomfortable.

She flipped to the Psalms and focused on the soothing words instead. She'd already been on edge before coming in here, and his yelling wasn't helping at all.

But the more she focused on the page, the more her eyes drooped.

Perhaps she should have gone to bed a bit earlier last night. All she wanted now was to stretch out on the long wooden pew and close her eyes.

She blinked rapidly. That wouldn't make a very good impression, now, would it?

Lifting her gaze back to the preacher, she studied him.

If she saw him on the street, would he have the same stern expression? If she didn't know he was a preacher, she would say by first impression that he was an angry and unhappy man.

That wasn't fair. Was it?

How did someone know that a person loved God? By how they acted? How they treated people?

The more she watched him, the more she thought of him as grouchy and unfriendly.

You have no right to be so judgmental , Eliza Mills! After all, what would people say about her ? Was she showing others that she knew God?

The preacher pounded the pulpit, and she jolted in her seat. Her hat threatened to shift, and she put a hand up against the weight. Good thing too, because then the preacher began to yell, and she jumped again. Gracious, it made her heart pound. Was it always like this?

She'd heard of these fire-and-brimstone preachers but hadn't experienced one firsthand. Her ears ached from the tirade of not giving in to sin, keeping their homes in order, and not associating with those of no faith.

But it must work for some people because there were lots of heads bobbing and several amens shouted from the pews.

Not for her though. The only thing it accomplished was making her restless.

She dipped her head back to her Bible and flipped through the pages to find some of her favorite verses. Perhaps if she spent the time memorizing more Scripture, it would be better for her mindset than the pulpit-pounding of this shouting man who grew angrier and louder with every word.

By the time she'd memorized all of First Peter chapter one, rustling sounded around her. Oh! The congregation was standing for a final hymn.

This time, she didn't even bother to sing along. But she prayed the whole time for her heart to still and soak in whatever it was that God wanted her to leave this place with today. She kept her eyes closed until the final stanza and then lowered her head as a deacon prayed a benediction.

Anxious to be on her way, she had her Bible in her arms and the strings of her purse on her wrist before he said amen.

With a quick dash out of the pew, she hurried out of the small building. The Adamses' buggy was only twenty feet away. She picked up her pace. Freedom was so close.

A touch to her arm. "Miss?"

Eliza bit back a sigh. Obviously, she hadn't been fast enough. She pasted on a smile and turned.

Four ladies met her gaze. Where had they come from? And so quick?

Funny, she was inches taller than any of them. There were heels on her kid leather boots, and she was a bit over eight inches above five feet in her stockings anyway. But all of a sudden, she felt like a giant. And with the sun behind her, the shadow of her hat covered all of them. She fought the urge to giggle at thoughts of what Devin would say in this moment.

It wasn't the time nor the place for her to be laughing, but being able to find the humor in the situation helped her relax. "Good morning." There. That was pleasant enough.

"Good morning. We wanted to greet you and welcome you to our little church. I don't believe we've met?" The lady in blue studied her. "I'm Mrs. Elvira Manning. And you are?"

"Miss Eliza Mills." Funny. Their initials were the same.

The others introduced themselves, and she nodded at each.

"Where are you from, Miss Mills?" Mrs. Manning's pinched lips didn't give off a friendly welcome.

"Pittsburgh."

"Oh." The other three ladies actually spoke in unison, their eyes wide.

But Mrs. Manning wasn't impressed. Her eyes had narrowed the tiniest bit. "What brings you to our lovely town?"

Now this was a subject she could talk about. She smiled. "I work for Mr. Andrew Carnegie. I'm here as a representative of the Hall of Dinosaurs at the Carnegie Institute to help people understand what is happening out at the quarry at Dinosaur National Monument."

Mrs. Manning stiffened. The frown on her face intensified. "So you are one of those evolutionists, are you?"

"Heavens, no." Eliza drew back as if she'd been slapped. "I believe in God as Creator and His Son Jesus as Savior."

Every eye studied her. Disapproving scowls deepened the lines on their sun-weathered faces.

"If that is true then what are you doing out there working with those ... heathens?"

Heathens? Eliza arched an eyebrow at the way the woman spit the word. It was no secret that many in her field of study had chosen to follow Darwin's theory of evolution. So it was understandable why the woman would be skeptical. But just as many scientists were strong in their faith.

The disdain of these women coupled with the angry sermon...

Well, really. It was just too much. "That's an awfully judgmental thing to say, don't you think, Mrs. Manning? Aren't all men and women loved by God? Isn't it His desire that none should perish?"

The woman's chin lifted, her gaze sharpening into a glare. "We aren't about to allow a bad apple into our midst, spreading lies and the evils of science. I can see you don't belong here, Miss Mills. As God-fearing women, we will just choose to agree to disagree with you."

"But—"

"Good day, Miss Mills." The lead hen gathered her little group of cackling chickens with her.

What a mess! "Good day." She called it to their backs, but none of them turned or even flinched.

Lifting her skirt a bit to navigate the step into the carriage, Eliza ran the conversation through her mind. As she took one last glance at the little church building, she shook her head. Never in her life had she seen or heard anything like it. Was this how some people thought Christianity should be lived out?

If so ... well, no wonder so many didn't want anything to do with faith. Perhaps she should pen a letter to her pastor back in Pittsburgh. The difference between the service she'd just attended and what she'd grown up with was startling. How did one respond to such outright hatred and judgment? Was this what all preachers out West taught their congregations?

When she returned back to her home away from home, Eliza stepped down from the buggy and placed her hands on her hips as she studied it. Even with all her education, she had no idea how to take care of the horse or how to unhitch it. Without any other options available, she led the animal close enough so the water trough was in reach, set the brake, and tied off the reins. She'd have to apologize later.

Exhaustion and the urge to erase the happenings of the day overwhelmed her. When she entered the kitchen, she reached up and pulled the pins from her hat so she could remove it and relax her neck and shoulders.

An envelope on the table caught her eye with a note on top.

Eliza,

This came in the post for you yesterday, but it was late by the time we looked through it. We'll be back this evening. Hopefully your visit to church was a lovely one.

Lovely. Ha! But there was always next week. And a different church. As soon as she saw the return on the envelope, she plopped into the chair and opened it up. Devin had written!

Dear Eliza,

Your letters found Dad and me both well and eager to hear of your adventures.

In truth, you were correct in your assessment of my summer thus far.

So, I have decided to acquiesce to your request and travel out West myself.

It might take me a while, since I do intend to see the Rocky Mountains before heading your way. I will take the train to Denver, where I plan to stay a day or two, and then north and west to your beloved dinosaur monument.

Your friend, Devin

She flipped the single sheet of paper over and stared at the blank side. Devin was a lover of the written word. Why such a brief letter? Why, she'd penned at least seven pages herself. Perhaps the dull and boring days surrounded by the University halls and gray-haired professors had worn him down.

It'd be depressing for her, that was for sure.

But joy pushed all other thoughts aside. Devin was coming! As the truth sank in, Eliza bolted from her chair and spun around the room.

Her best friend was coming. That was almost enough to erase this morning's catastrophic church attendance from her mind.

Almost.

T UESDAY , J UNE 27, 1916 · M IL LS M ANOR , P ITTSBURGH

"Your father tells me you're headed out West."

Devin sat stiff on the edge of the blue velvet chair. "Yes, ma'am." He hadn't been summoned to the manor since— well, ever. Until today. And when he arrived, it was Eliza's grandmother who waited in the parlor. Dressed in black. He swallowed and his stomach sank. "Nothing has happened to Eliza—"

"Heavens, no." The woman's gaze snapped to his. Tears shimmered at the corners. "My apologies, son. I didn't realize how my summoning would affect you." She pressed a hankie to her nose, then lifted her chin a bit. "My dear Mr. Mills passed an hour ago. That's why I had to see you immediately."

Shock immobilized Devin for a moment. Eliza's grandfather... was dead? The poor woman! "I am deeply sorry for your loss, ma'am." And he was. Even though Mr. Mills was a powerful and stern man, Devin had many good memories of him with Eliza. Her grandfather had been generous to so many. Himself included.

Mrs. Mills twisted the handkerchief in her hands, giving Devin a tremulous smile. "It is providential that you are headed out West. This isn't news I can send to my dear granddaughter via letter or telegram. I certainly don't wish for her to hear about it in the papers once they reach her." Mrs. Mills leaned forward and touched Devin's hand. "It's a horrible thing to ask of you—to bring her such news—but you are the only one I trust."

He let that sink in for a moment. "You want me to tell her? About her grandfather?" As the weight of it hit him square in the face, he didn't want to think about how much this would hurt Eliza. She adored her grandparents.

Mrs. Mills's nod was slow. Sad.

And it broke his heart. But wouldn't it be better to come from him than from anyone else? As much as he hated to be the bearer of the news, he had to do it. "I will do whatever you need me to do, ma'am."

"You always were such a good boy. My husband thought the world of you."

He did? That was news to Devin.

"Don't look so surprised. He thought of you like a grandson." The look in her eyes softened. "He was proud of you. In fact, he was the one who recommended you to the board to become head of the English department." Her lips turned up into a sad smile. Then several tears slipped down her cheeks and she pressed the hankie to her face again. "My apologies." A muffled sob escaped.

Whatever the proper high-society protocol was at this moment, he really didn't care. He stood, stepped over to the settee, took a seat next to her, and wrapped an arm around the older woman's shoulders.

Several moments passed as her shoulders shook. Though silent, her grief filled the room.

When the tide of emotion passed, Devin stayed by her side, willing his strength to help hold her up if even for a moment.

She patted his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, dear boy." With a deep breath, she straightened and lifted her chin.

He returned to his seat and tugged it closer so he could hold Mrs. Mills's hands. He hadn't ever been particularly close to her, but she'd been a steadfast presence in his life for as long as he could remember.

And she was now alone. Her husband of fifty years had taken his last breath. Her granddaughter was across the country. She had no other family. How would Mrs. Mills face the future now before her?

Wait a minute...

"Mrs. Mills, perhaps it would be best if we sent an urgent telegram and told Eliza to come home. You need her here."

Her hand came up quickly and sliced through the air. "No. I have given my granddaughter a hard time about her chosen profession all these years, and she has remained passionate. Oh, I wasn't against it, but if she couldn't take some pushback from the people who love her the most, the world would have eaten her alive. This isn't an easy time for women—wealthy or poor. Well, my dissent comes to a stop now that it's just the two of us. I refuse to take her away from this incredible opportunity." She pointed a finger at Devin. "It is your duty to ensure that she stays put. Understood?"

He knitted his brow. "Are you s—"

"Young man, do not argue with me on this." The fire was back in her eyes, and she straightened even taller on the settee. "I don't want her staying past the summer, but I can speak to her about that at a different time. Right now, I need you to break the news to her and bring her this note." She lifted an envelope from the table beside her and stared at it. "I wrote it as soon as he closed his eyes and I knew." Her voice sounded far off. She cleared her throat. "Make sure you wait for the appropriate time when she will be able to compose herself before having to speak with others."

"Yes, ma'am."

"She will need a good cry. And knowing Eliza, she will want to go out into the wilderness and dig and pound in the dirt for a while. Scream at the heavens and vent her grief. She's always been passionate in her emotions. Stay with her, please, keep her safe and from hurting herself. Don't allow her to think that I will wither up and die without her here. It will do me good to have these weeks on my own. I would like to be ... adjusted to these new circumstances by the time she comes home."

"Yes, ma'am." But wouldn't she prefer to grieve with her granddaughter? They could help each other through this. He almost said so, but by the rigid set of her jaw, her mind was made up.

"I hear you're leaving tomorrow. Don't change your plans for me. The mountains are beautiful. Take a moment to revel in their grandeur for me." The sad smile was back, and she patted the envelope into his hand. "Now go. I'll expect a visit from you when you return."

Devin stood and kissed her wrinkled hands. Then he bowed and left the manor with a new weight on his heart and mind.

W EDNESDAY , J UNE 28, 1916 · J ENSEN

She slid the plate over to her husband, a new idea forming in her mind.

Waiting for him to die—even with his haphazard ways—was going to take too long.

Especially with all those people digging out at the quarry.

What she needed was a plan to delay the diggers and one to speed up the demise of the man in front of her.

Oh, he'd been fun and everything she thought she wanted at the beginning. Everything she'd fought her parents for. But she'd grown tired of his lazy ways and the fact that he refused to give her any money. He did enough to keep up appearances, but that was it. The man was a bum and stingy and it sickened her.

For ten years, she'd kept up the charade of dutiful wife while he did whatever he pleased, knowing that one day it would all be over. But her patience had reached its end. He wasn't going to get any more time than he deserved.

Which meant he should have been dead years ago.

Inwardly laughing at her own joke, she allowed her lips to turn up into a small smile. The man was an idiot. He had no idea what she'd been planning all these years. What she'd done to get what she wanted. And he would go to the grave in his ignorance.

The sweet taste of revenge was on her tongue.

But she'd have to be careful. There were eyes and ears everywhere.

She was a planner and could work around the obstacles.

Especially knowing that there was an end in sight.

She could do anything with that knowledge.

Anything.

T HURSDAY , J UNE 29, 1916 · D ENVER , C OLORADO

The air was stale with dust and sweat. Children whimpered in their mother's laps, the heat too oppressive for them to exhibit any stronger emotion. The once bustling and noisy railroad car had slipped into a weary silence with each clack of track against wheel.

Sweat trickled down Devin's temple, dampening his sideburn. He longed to mop his face with his handkerchief, but his shoulder was wedged between the rigid back of the train seat and the burly man next to him. His hip ached from lack of movement, pressed against the unyielding metal of the train. He closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up, they would finally be at their destination.

"The Chicago, Burlington, and Quincy line is twenty minutes from Denver." The conductor's voice shattered the quiet of the car, startling Devin out of his hazy state. "Once again, the CB&Q line will be arriving in Denver, Colorado, in twenty minutes!"

His announcement couldn't have come at a better time. Thank You, Lord. The sincere prayer lifted to heaven.

Twenty minutes until he was free of this sweat-infested torture chamber. He glanced out the window, watching plain after plain whip by in a blur. When he'd decided to visit Eliza, his imagination had run wild with the thought of seeing new cities and states. He'd imagined great rolling hills easing into grand snow-capped mountains. Big-horned sheep. Maybe a bear or two.

Any thrill he'd felt died the second day out of Chicago after miles of unending prairie. How had he not known how flat the middle of the country was? It seemed like the horizon was one long line of flat land and cloudless blue sky.

Not that the heartland didn't have its charms. To be sure, the rippling acres of wheat brought to mind the opening stanza of America the Beautiful by Katharine Lee Bates. The spacious skies and amber waves of grain were breathtaking.

But Devin was ready for some purple mountain majesty. And a good long walk.

After all the miles traveled, he still hadn't formulated the best way to share the news with Eliza. She didn't need flowery words or prose. Nor did she need to be coddled. But if he simply blurted, "Your grandfather's dead," that would be about as caring as stabbing her in the heart.

The crowd grew restless and noisy around him as people shuffled their belongings and family members. Devin shoved the thoughts of Eliza aside. God would give him the words, he needed to trust in that.

The large man beside him snored and then snorted and shifted his weight even more into Devin's side. With a wince, Devin tried to dislodge himself from being the innards of a train-passenger sandwich, but the more he moved, the more the other man leaned into him.

A loud hiss and the screech of brakes startled the snoring man from slumber, and he shifted his weight an inch or two. Praise God! But then the man went right back to snoring. As soon as the train was fully stopped, Devin would have to maneuver around him.

All around Devin, people began to stand, groaning and laughing with fellow travelers. It seemed the aches and pains of train travel were universal. Relief was palpable as people donned hats, folded newspapers under their arms, and grabbed small luggage cases out of the roped storage above them.

Devin hadn't trusted his bag to storage. Instead, he'd kept it between his feet the whole trip. Not that there was anything precious in the bag, save a few changes of clothes and his shaving kit. But replacing those items would strain his already thin budget. And if he showed up with nothing, Eliza would just offer to help replace the items he'd lost. He wouldn't depend on her charity, no matter how kind it was. He could stand on his own two feet. And support his father.

He'd determined to pay off Dad's house—their house—this year, and it had taken every spare penny since his father hadn't been able to work for several years. Most days, his father was still sharp as a tack. Then others, he showed the effects from the stroke two years ago.

The shoulder holding him hostage moved, and Devin nearly wept. Feeling crept back into his arm and relief made him sigh. He pressed his fingertips into his shoulder and rotated it a few times, praying the stiffness would ease the more he moved. Standing, he clasped the handles of his bag in one hand and placed his bowler hat on his head with the other. Then he joined the slow shuffle of passengers exiting into Denver's Union Station. The noise was overwhelming.

"Watch where you're goin'!" A man growled the words at a mother with a young girl tucked close to her skirts. His gold ring glinted in the afternoon sunlight as he gripped his walking stick in his hand. "This is what happens when you mingle the masses!" His glare swept the crowd—including Devin. "People who don't know when to get out of the way of their betters!" He thrust his walking stick in front of him and rammed through the crowd, the scent of his foul cigar lingering in the air.

Devin approached the woman, glancing down at the little girl. Large blue eyes rounded with fear, and she turned her face into the plain cotton of her mother's dress.

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

The woman jerked away from Devin, her eyes narrowed. She held her daughter's hand in a white-knuckled grip. "We're just fine and don't need no help from the likes of you, fancy man!" She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Devin's mouth dropped open. He was riffraff and lower class one minute and a fancy man the next. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Wait until Eliza heard about this. Wouldn't she laugh? The smile disappeared. He needed the next couple of days to settle his heart and mind. And to gather his courage if he was going to tell his best friend good-bye at the end of this trip.

A young boy around the age of ten caught Devin's eye. "Two bits to carry luggage to the famous Brown Palace, mister!"

He shook his head and pressed on. "But thank you."

"‘Germany Pounds Britain as Battle of the Somme Rages On!'" three teenage boys shouted, waving their newspapers in the air.

Devin swallowed and searched the area for a way of escape. He needed fresh air and at least three feet between himself and another human being. Clenching his jaw, he pushed through the swarm of people and finally found the large wooden door leading out to the bustling streets of Denver.

He scurried down the sidewalk, sucking in great gulps of air. He found an empty bench and sat for a moment, dropping his bag by his feet. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. If Eliza were with him, she'd be laughing at his dramatic attitude. But then again, if Eliza were with him, he wouldn't be miserable at all. He'd be having the time of his life.

Frustration welled within his chest. This was the conundrum of Eliza Mills in his life. One minute, he couldn't wait to share everything with her, to hear her laugh, to make her smile. Then the next minute, his heart plummeted because he loved her, and he'd made a promise. If he could teach his heart that they were just friends and could always be friends, life would be simpler.

He'd done well thus far, not thinking about her every waking moment. It had been difficult. She'd traveled this way before him. Seen the same fields, sidewalks, and buildings. What had she thought when she got to Denver? Had she been as exhausted as he was right now? He smiled and shook his head. No. She'd still be full of life, ready to examine every inch of Denver available to them. Her zest for life was incomparable. Eliza made everything mundane fun. How he'd missed her light and joy these last few weeks.

But the separation had also been good. He'd spent many hours in prayer, chatting with his dad, and reading the Word. He needed wisdom in the coming days.

Devin swiped a hand over his jaw, wincing at the rough growth of hair against his palm. He needed a proper bath and shave to feel presentable again. And to get his head back on straight. Maybe getting to his boardinghouse and doing a bit of exploring would do him some good.

He picked up his bag and walked back toward Union Station, determined to find a streetcar to take him to a boardinghouse on Stout Street. A colleague back home had recommended it for its reasonable rates and close location to the train station. He had less than one day to explore what he could of Denver. It was time to make the most of it.

Bother. He didn't need a streetcar. He could walk. The exercise and fresh air would stretch out everything that had been crammed into the train car. He passed an older gentleman reading a newspaper on a bench. "Sir, could you perhaps give me directions to this address on Stout Street?"

"Oh yes." The man studied the paper for a moment and then smiled up at him. "Head over to 18th Street, and take it all the way down to Stout. Then you'll want to follow it away from the mountains. You should find it pretty quick."

Away from the mountains. Devin looked up from the man's gaze and took in the view. He'd been so focused on his own thoughts that he'd forgotten why he'd even come this way. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"Just remember the mountains are on the west. If you get lost, that's a good reminder." The older man chuckled and went back to his paper, probably amused by Devin's sudden awe of the scene.

"Thank you, again." He smiled and headed toward the direction the man had pointed him for 18th Street. Every chance he had, he kept stealing glances at the mountains in the distance. There were so many of them. Rising out of the plains in craggy, majestic beauty.

Breathtaking. That's what it was.

After two blocks, breathtaking began to take on a new meaning. Why was he so out of breath? Granted, he'd been walking at a much brisker than normal pace because he was eager to see as much of Denver as possible, but he was never winded like this at home. For a moment, he stopped and set down his case. He mopped his forehead and took several long, deep breaths.

"New in town?" A young man chuckled and tucked a newspaper under his arm.

Devin nodded. "Yes, I just arrived in on the train."

"From back East, are ya?"

"Yes." He wiped at his neck, his collar feeling all too tight.

"Well, you're standing on ground that is higher than most of what people back there call mountains. You're over 5,000 feet above sea level, my good fella."

"Is that why I'm out of breath?" Devin shook his head.

"Yep." The man shot a wide smile at him and then tipped his cap. "Have a pleasant stay in Denver."

"Thank you." At least he was almost there and then he could take some time to venture out toward the mountains. He took several more deep breaths and then leaned down to pick up his case.

But it was gone.

And so was the young man.