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table, next to the oil lamp. Emmeline gasped, then fell back on the pillows, yanked the covers up over her head, and wept, for she was surely ruined.
    How would she ever explain her foolishness to Becky? Her aunt had spared no effort to make sure Emmeline’s life turned out differently from her own. In point of fact, Emmeline would have been sent away to convent school, long ago, if she hadn’t begged to stay in Kansas City, and Becky, always tenderhearted, had reluctantly given in. She would regret that decision now.
    Just then, the door opened, and Becky stood on the threshold. Her hair was down, brushed to a rich ebony shine, and she wore a silk dressing gown of palest green. “I thought I heard—” she began, and then gasped, her eyes going from Emmeline to the shimmering stack of coins and back again.“Good God, Emmeline,” she rasped, “what have you done?”
    Emmeline bit her lower lip. She was at once too proud and too ashamed to weep before her aunt, and she had no explanation or even an excuse on hand. She merely sat there, wishing she were dead, staring at her aunt’s horrified face.
    “Who was it?” Becky whispered, white faced and trembling.“I’ll shoot the bastard myself—”
    Emmeline merely shook her head. Having shifted her gaze to the floor, she found it too heavy to lift again.
    Becky hesitated for a few wretched moments, then stormed into the room and slapped Emmeline hard across the face. “You fool, you stupid—ungrateful—little trollop!” she cried, nearly choking on her rage.
    Emmeline put a hand to her cheek. Defiance was all that held her together; without it, she would have collapsed, like a building torn from its foundation. “You raised me in a whorehouse,” she said. “Did you really think I’d ever be a lady?”
    Becky moved as if to strike Emmeline again, then stopped her hand in midair. “Get out of my sight,” she whispered.“I can’t bear to look at you.”

Chapter 2

 
     
    E MMELINE PEERED , through tear-swollen eyes, at the lavish advertisement on the third page of the Kansas City Star. She’d been awake all night, weeping and raging by turns, and it could have been said that she wasn’t in her right mind that sunny morning.
    BRIDES WANTED was the headline, printed in bold type with exclamation points aplenty.
    Ladies! Don’t wait for that proposal, for it may never come! Start a new and exciting life in the American West! Plenty of opportunity and adventure for everyone! No fee for qualified applicants, all expenses paid! Our fine agency represents men of moral substance and ample means only! Marriages performed by proxy, before departure! Visit Happy Home Matrimonial Service, 67 Fremont Street, Kansas City.
     
    Emmeline sniffled, her imagination stirred, buzzing like a hive full of excited bees. Five minutes later, she pressed a cold rag to her face, donned her best bonnet and her most becoming dress, which was dove gray with black piping around the collar, cuffs, and hem, and marched herself down to the corner, where she stepped aboard the streetcar, paid the one-cent fare, and resolutely took her seat.
    She had begun that fateful morning in proud disgrace. When she returned to the boardinghouse, after two hours spent at the Happy Home Matrimonial Service, she was riding in a hansom cab, and she had vouchers for train and stagecoach fare in her drawstring bag, along with a marriage license, signed by a judge and duly recorded at the courthouse.
    She was Mrs. Rafe McKettrick, in the eyes of God and man.
    She stood stiff-shouldered in the doorway of Becky’s office, her trunks hastily packed and waiting on the porch, and announced that she was a married woman now and was leaving to make a new start in the Arizona Territory.
    Becky went white at the news. “Good God,” she gasped, trying to rise from her desk chair and failing. “You’re not serious!”
    Emmeline raised her chin a notch. “I have a train to catch,” she said.
    “This is utter