Surprised that the woman so freely offered her hand to a stranger, Emily shook it. “Please call me…Emily.”

“Nice to meet you, Emily. You must be from the East.”

“Ah…yes,” Emily said, not wanting to mention Boston by name.

“Unfortunately, you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m afraid the citizens of Haywire wouldn’t know what to do with a governess if they had one.”

“I see…” Emily’s already low spirits spiraled another notch lower. “Do you know of an opening of any kind? I’m a hard worker.”

Mrs. Peters gave her a once-over with a dubious look. “Hmm. Let me think.” After a moment, she brightened. “Do you sew?”

“I do stitchery.”

The woman discounted this with a shrug of her shoulders. “Don’t we all?” She tapped a finger on her generous chin. “What other skills do you have?”

“I speak French and play the harp.”

“Oh dear.” Mrs. Peters’s expression dropped in dismay. “I think you’ll be hard-pressed to find a harp in town. As for speaking a foreign language, I don’t know anyone who speaks French locally. German, but not French.”

“What about that other foreign language she speaks,” the store proprietor added helpfully in his same slow way. “You know, An-glish.”

Emily blinked in confusion. “You don’t speak English here?”

The store owner gave a mischievous grin. “Nope! Here, we speak Texan.”

Mrs. Peters rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to Mack. He’s just pulling your leg. Have you no other skills?”

Surprised that the woman would use a crude word like leg instead of the more socially accepted word limb, Emily tried to think how to answer her. “I’m quite good with numbers. Perhaps I could work as a bookkeeper. Or…or secretary. I’m slow on a typing machine, but accurate.”

The woman looked less optimistic than Emily had hoped. Mr. Gordon just looked baffled.

Mrs. Peters cleared her throat. “Most folks around here like to keep their own books. As for typing machines…” She shook her head and patted Emily on the arm, her face suffused with sympathy. “Sorry we aren’t more help. But if I hear of anything, I’ll let you know. Where can you be reached?”

“Uh…I’m not sure. For now, I’m staying at the hotel.”

“Very well. I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

Thanking them both, Emily left the shop. Pausing, she glanced up and down the boardwalk, reading each sign in turn. Almost all the shops were male-oriented, but there was the Feedbag Café, a bakery, and the candy shop. She knew nothing about baking and even less about candy-making, but the café offered possibilities. How hard could it be to wait tables?

* * *

Chase rode up to the ranch house and dismounted. He’d ridden into town to report the theft of his cattle, for all the good it would do him. A rash of cattle rustling had plagued the county in recent months. Not only had the thefts stymied the local sheriff, but they’d also baffled the Rangers.