At the center of town stood a one-story green, clapboard pub-cum-hotel with a wooden veranda. A sign proclaimed it as the Western Star Hotel. Across the road from the Western Star was a general store. A little farther down the way was a gas station that looked like it was circa 1930.

Marissa entered the pub and endured the stares of its five male customers. They had paused in their dart game and were looking at her as if she were an apparition. The pub owner came over and asked if he could help her.

“I’d like a room for two nights,” Marissa said.

“Do you have a reservation?” the man asked.

Marissa studied the man’s broad face. She thought he had to be joking, but he didn’t crack a smile. She admitted that she didn’t have a reservation.

“There’s a boxing troupe in town tonight,” the man said. “We’re pretty busy, but let me check.”

He went over to his cash register and checked a notebook. Marissa glanced around the room. All the men were still staring at her. None of them moved or said a word. They didn’t touch their bottles of beer.

The man came back. “I’ll give you number four,” he said. “It was reserved, but they were supposed to check in by six.”

Marissa paid for a night’s lodging, took the key, and asked about food.

“We’ll fix you up something here in the pub,” the man said. “As soon as you freshen up, come on back.”

“One other question,” Marissa asked. “Is the Wilmington Station close to town?”

“ ’Tis,” the man said. “Quite close. Less than three hours’ drive due west.”

Marissa wondered how many hours it would take to get to a distant station if it took three to get to a close one. Before she went to her room, Marissa used a public phone to ring the car rental agent to say that she had made it.

She was pleased to discover that her room was reasonably clean. She was surprised to see mosquito netting draped over the bed. Only later would she learn how important it was.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. She wasn’t very hungry and barely touched her food. She did enjoy the ice cold beer. Eventually she found herself in friendly conversation with the men in the bar.

She was even persuaded to join them at the boxing show, which turned out to be an opportunity for the locals to box with professionals. The ranchers would win twenty dollars if they were able to last three one-minute rounds, but none of them ever did. Marissa left before it was over, appalled by the violence the drunken men subjected themselves to.