Crimson Palace by Maralee Lowder Read Free Book Online

anything but hatred for the man who had killed her father. Sure it was an accident, but the fact remained, if he hadn’t been gambling with her da, maybe even cheating for that matter, she might still have both parents alive today.
    What is it about that man that won’t let go of me? Is it revenge I want from him? Or is it to hear his voice again? If he saw me now would he still have that special look in his eye?
    She shuddered with a strange emotion as she remembered how he had looked at her that day at the stable. Suddenly she was terrified of these new, inexplicable feelings. No, I don’t care what he sees in me! It’s not his admiration I want. It’s revenge. He’ll pay for taking my da away!
    The next morning Shinonn set her mount at an easy canter, heading due west, toward St. Joseph, Missouri. She would have to cross the entire state of Missouri to reach the town which was now famous as one of the largest staging areas for wagon trains heading west. She planned on using the time it would take her to reach St. Joe to form her plans, to take on the identity she would need to assume while traveling with the train.
    When she had cut her hair and dressed in Patrick’s clothes, she had taken the first steps to masking the fact that she was a lone female. But the task was not complete. She must make up an entirely new identity for herself. A new name. A new past.
    As the horses trotted along, she considered her options. She would have to be young enough to not have a beard, yet old enough to be traveling alone. Fifteen - that would be just about right. And I’ll be an orphan, which is true enough. That’ll explain why I’m all by myself.
    Stay with the truth as much as possible, she thought. The fewer lies she told meant less for her to have to remember, with fewer chances of contradicting herself.
    Well, I sure as anything can’t keep the same name. But who shall I be? Let’s see. Just looking at me anyone would guess I’m Irish, so what’s a good Irish lad’s name? Um, I always liked the name of Timothy. What could be more Irish than Tim O’Brien? All right, that’s who I am, Tim O’Brien. And I’m fifteen years old. My folks both died of influenza and I’m off to find my only living relative, a cousin by the name of Patrick Flannery, who is working somewhere in the gold fields. That should satisfy most folk’s curiosity.

    ***
    Shinonn slowed her horses as she drew near the outskirts of St. Joseph. The city sparkled in the aftermath of a light spring shower. She passed houses that sat far back on lush, emerald green lawns.
    Spring flowers waved gaily to her as she rode down the street.
    Filled with a sudden sense of exhilaration, she was tempted to stay right here in this wonderful city. St.
    Joseph was nothing like the villages she had grown up in. Was it possible that a more exciting place existed anywhere on earth? The streets teemed with people. Every sort of conveyance imaginable crowded the busy street.
    And the shops! Her mind reeled with the wonder of so many stores all lined up side-by-side, block after block. How could a person ever decide which shops to frequent? And who could possibly have money enough to live in such splendor?
    Finally, trying not to appear like the country bumpkin that she was, she asked a lounging youth for directions to the wagon train gathering grounds. The young man shifted his weight on the bench he was slouching on and managed to gather enough energy to point off toward the north.
    "Jest keep goin’ in that there direction and you’ll soon enough catch the wind of the place. With all the livestock they got out there, they ain’t no way you can miss it," he drawled.
    As she continued along the crowded streets, she began to sense a change in the atmosphere. Gradually the masses of "city" people were replaced by a much different type of individual. Now the women were dressed in sturdier fabric; the men wore clothes which would be more practical on a long journey than