She nibbled on the end of the fountain pen for a thoughtful moment before going back and marking out the My and the est. “Dear Grandfather,” she read aloud. Scowling, she slashed through the Dear, leaving only Grandfather. She had thought to pen an earnest plea for deliverance, but even that stark salutation rang false to her ears. She crumpled the stationery in her fist before dragging a fresh sheet across the desk. It was well past midnight, but restlessness plucked at her nerves, making sleep impossible. If Sheriff McGuire hadn’t been kind enough to retrieve her trunk and violin case from the old cowpoke and have it sent to the hotel, she would have been penning her letter on the back of Billy Darling’s Wanted poster. Lord Wyndham, she scribbled, forsaking her flawless penmanship for an impassioned scrawl, It is with great trepidation and no little regret that I am writing to inform you that due to your enduring neglect and indifference, I have been forced to barter my virtue to a ruthless desperado.
