The Courting of Widow Shaw by Charlene Sands

to his ranch. Maybe then he could get Glory Shaw off his mind for a time. Maybe then, he could get much-needed sleep.
    He had a ranch house to finish building.
    Grumbling in her stomach woke Gloria from a sound sleep. She sat up, once again surprised by her surroundings. At times she forgot her plight, the situation that landed her at Rainbow House. But now as a slice of sunlight streamed through the heavy curtains, Gloria recalled everything with brutal clarity. She was hiding out here, devoid of all memory of the night her husband died. She was wanted for murder. And probably worst of all, she had to live in a house of prostitution, the proprietor being the very woman who had caused her father’s death.
    Gloria lifted up from the bed. The sigh that escaped had less to do with body soreness, and more to do with facing the new day. Without Steven’s help.
    She had to fend for herself now. Her stomach growled again, reminding her she needed nourishment. With her injuries healing and her body recovering, she found that her appetite had come back full force. Although she loathed the idea of going down-stairs, Gloria knew she had little choice if she wanted to have a meal.
    She slipped on the gown she’d worn last night—the one that made her feel like an overstuffed Christmasgoose. She’d hoped Steven would have placed something more fitting on the hook behind the door as he had in the past, perhaps something from her own wardrobe. But she put that notion aside. If the fire at her house had been as severe as he’d said, then nothing would have been salvaged. All of her belongings, everything she owned, would have been destroyed.
    Glory shut her mind off to those disturbing thoughts.
    She’d have to do something about her attire later, but for now she had no other option but to wear this dress. She recited her father’s favorite mantra. “If it’s to be, make the best of it.”
    Gloria prayed for guidance to see her out of this predicament, counting on her father’s teachings and the wisdom he had so readily shared with her.
    She was ready to make the best of it.
    Gloria ambled slowly down the stairs. She stopped at the second-floor landing, gazing at the doors painted in different colors.
    Rainbow House.
    Now she understood, the dawning knowledge grasping her with complete surprise. She’d never known why the house had such a charming, winsome name. Rainbows made you think of hope, of a higher being, of something quite miraculous.
    But as she peered at the red door, the purple, the blue, the green and the yellow one, she understood the clever idea behind the house. And she wondered what the inside of those rooms looked like. Were they, too, part of the colorful rainbow?
    Gloria stopped gawking and continued down the stairs. With any amount of luck, she’d be out of thishouse long before she discovered the answers to her questions.
    Once on the main floor, she moved through a few rooms decorated with the finest furniture she’d ever seen, highly polished and arranged in a way that lent for large groups to converse and be entertained. A Dresden piano graced the back of the room and a small Cornish and Company pump organ anchored the adjacent wall. And as she strode past with quiet determination, the stale scent of cigars and tobacco layered the air.
    When Gloria finally reached the kitchen area, she breathed a sigh of relief. True to Steven’s word, only the cook was present. She was busy turning a long row of dough onto a floured tabletop. She glanced up with a flour-stained face and Gloria was taken by how young the cook appeared. Why, she looked young enough to still attend school.
    “Hello,” she said with a welcoming smile.
    Gloria smiled back. She hadn’t expected to be greeted with warmth, not even from the cook. “Hello.”
    “You must be Glory. Mr. Har— uh, Steven told us about you.”
    Rapid heat rose up her neck, shaking Gloria’s resolve. She wondered just what Steven had told everyone about her.