“I believe,” Shipley said, around his mustache and cigar, “you’re confusing the Atherton Arms with the Sidewinder, across the street. While the Sidewinder’s clientele is admittedly of a coarser nature, the Atherton Arms is highly reputable.” He chuckled. “I happen to know the owner of both establishments quite well.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Dovie said. “The Sidewinder is merely the more honest of the two businesses, that’s all. It doesn’t pretend to be anything but a drovers’ saloon, gambling hall, and whorehouse. Here at the Atherton, the rooms are more expensive, there’s linen and doilies on the tables, and you’re served by folks who’ve bathed since their last payday. But just like the Sidewinder, the Atherton’s got liquor and gambling downstairs and women on their backs upstairs. Neither is a suitable place to raise a young girl.”

“You’re a well-informed woman, Mrs. Pritchard.”

“One doesn’t need to be well informed to know what services the Atherton Arms and Sidewinder provide,” she said. “One only needs a working pair of eyes.”

More than a month had transpired since Thomas Pritchard’s death. Dovie and Idelle had been guests of Alice and Rodney Nettles since his killing, but Dovie was under growing pressure from Burnell Shipley to take up residence with him at the Atherton Arms, as she’d agreed.

It had been a profitable month for Shipley. The Atherton sawmill, formerly the Pritchard Lumber Company, received the government order he’d been alerted to, and with a substantial down payment from the U.S. Army. The lumber demand had become so great, Shipley had to purchase a third steam-driven saw, hire a dozen more men, and the operation still struggled to fill the order.

Since armies marched on their bellies, business was also booming at the Atherton stockyards. The army bought beef and horses as fast as the drovers could herd them into town. The railroad couldn’t ship out the lumber and livestock to Kansas City fast enough.

These enterprises, fueled by the war and coupled with Shipley’s primary financial endeavors, liquor, gambling, and prostitution, had in very short order made Atherton a boomtown, and Mayor Burnell Shipley an even wealthier man.

“What do you propose to do with Idelle?” Shipley said.

“I want her to stay at the Nettleses’ place,” she said, “permanently. I will reside with you here at the Atherton Arms, as promised, but she will live with them. I expect you to pay a suitable stipend to the Nettleses for her care.”

“I’ll agree to that,” Shipley said.

“Thank you,” she said, rising. “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my daughter.”

Shipley put down his cigar and stood. “When can I expect you to be taking up residence here at the Atherton?” he asked. “I believe a ‘month or two’ after your husband’s funeral was the length of time discussed?”