Descending the stairs to the saloon on the first floor, Desa set her hat upon her head and nodded once in thanks. “You run a fine establishment,” she said, stopping on the final step. “It was the best night"s sleep I"ve had in months.”
Mrs. Collins was waiting at the foot of the stairs in a gray dress with long sleeves, her hair pulled back into a bun. The woman sniffed but returned Desa"s nod. “I should hope so,” she said. “The Wagon Wheel is the finest establishment in all of Thrasa. We have a reputation to maintain.”
Desa stepped past the woman into a saloon that was already filled with half a dozen men. One fellow with a large belly and a thick brown beard that stretched from ear to ear was eating a breakfast of eggs and ham. Desa could smell it from here, and it made her painfully a
