Mayflower was spending a lot of time in Dallas, so it was Hans who kept me company when he was home. I liked the small, dignified man with his merry blue eyes. His self-containment gave him a calming presence. We talked about many things. He turned out to be well-read and well-traveled. He had studied engineering in Germany and worked for an oil company in Pennsylvania. He’d met Aidan in New York, he said, and was persuaded to travel with him to Texas.

I smiled. It seemed that Hans had the same yearning for adventure as I had—or used to have. What had happened to that yearning? Back in Donegal, I’d thought that adventure would save my life. Exploring new lands and meeting exotic new people would bring me all the happiness I needed. But now I realized adventure alone was not enough. I was still as alone and unloved as I had been in Donegal.

Shotgun City - 1913

Shotgun City

1913

Nora

Nora

The Adolphus Hotel in Dallas was the last word in luxury. I couldn’t believe the size of the room, the fresh smelling cotton sheets, the wee bottles of every kind of creams and lotions and the lovely view over the main street. I felt like a queen.

The night I arrived, a knock came on my door. I opened it and peered around. There stood a good-looking boyo about thirty years old. He wore a white linen suit without the trace of a crease in it. He took off his big, white hat, revealing thick, glossy black hair.

“Miss Nora Sweeney?”

I nodded.

He took my hand and kissed it. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

His words came out in a low drawl. I stood there, fascinated.

“My name is Shane Kearney,” he said, “and Mr. Sullivan wanted me to make sure you were settled in. Is everything to your liking?”

“Oh . . . er . . . yes,” I said, realizing I’d been so busy looking at him I’d hardly heard what he said.

Mr. Kearney told me to take a couple of days to get settled, then he would be back to take me to Shotgun City. Apparently, he ran a hotel there. I wondered how he had time for that because he was working for James Sullivan as well, but there again, he never said exactly what he did for Sullivan. But, more important, he’d said I should go shopping for whatever clothes I needed and charge it to James Sullivan’s account. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

The hotel staff told me the best shop for women’s clothes was Neiman-Marcus, so the next morning I landed there. I was over the moon when I walked in. I’d never been in a place like it. I’d loved style since I was very young, and I was like a child in a sweetshop.