Explaining Herself Read Online Free

article. This seemed to be the summer for train robbery; just the previous week, the Colorado Southern had been held up in New Mexico. But the outlaws Mr. Day referenced had robbed the Union Pacific Overland Flyer more than a month earlier, right here in Wyoming. Despite the biggest manhunt in Wyoming history, no suspects had been captured.
    If the famous Miss Nellie Bly lived in Wyoming — and if the lady reporter hadn't given up her writing career to marry—this was the sort of mystery at which she would have exce lled. The writer had gotten her self locked up in an insane asylum to expose the horror within its walls. She'd traveled around the world, beating a fictional eighty-day record. Victoria could only imagine to what lengths Miss Bly would have gone to uncover train robbers.
    Greater lengths than Vic herself ever would.
    Still, there could be nothing dangerous about a little investigation from the safety of the Sheridan Herald.
    "Mr. Day?" she called. "Do you have a description of the bandits suspected in the Wilcox robbery?"
    Her employer didn't stop typing on his marvelous machine. "The June twenty-fifth New York Herald published pictures."
    Wyoming's bandits were even big news in New York City?
    "You don't think . .. ," whispered Evangeline, while Victoria went to shelves stacked high with various newspapers from the previous month.
    "No!" But Vic still relished the excitement of digging until she found the right one. "Papa wouldn't hire a train robber. I just want to —"
    Make sure Papa wouldn't hire a train robber?
    " —to know more," she finished, turning pages. New York City certainly did put out larger papers than Sheridan, Wyoming, did! "Here."
    And she read the descriptions of the suspected outlaws, a "wild bunch from Brown's Park," including Flat-Nosed George Curry, the Roberts brothers, the Sundance Kid, and —
    "Buck Cassidy?" That didn't sound quite right.
    "They must have gotten it wrong," murmured Evangeline.
    The newspaper had printed drawings of several of the outlaws, based on prison photographs. Victoria felt more relieved than maybe she should have that none of the pictures or descriptions matched Mr. Lar amie: The only man described as "tall" was the Sun dance Kid, and he was apparently fair-haired. In fact, many of the bad men seemed to have a history of horse theft or rustling.
    As an enemy of cattle rustlers, didn't that make Ross Laramie the opposite of these desperadoes?
    "Customer," called Mr. Day. Since he supplemented the newspaper's income by doing printing jobs, another of Victoria's responsibilities was that of a shop girl.
    She looked up as the door opened and actually gasped.
    It was Laramie himself!
    He stood there, almost too tall for the door, and surveyed the room. His clothes were dark for this time of year. He was not wearing a gunbelt, but then, carrying firearms was illegal within the city limits. Victoria noticed a slight bulge on his lower leg, under his dungarees, which made her think he was still wearing his boot knife. He looked contained, in control... until his hooded gaze, sliding across the room, tripped over her.
    He didn't know I would be here, she thought.
    Only belatedly, with pressed lips and a ducked head, did he take off his hat. His hair wasn't wet this time, but it was still very black.
    "May we help you?" called Mr. Day, glancing in confusion toward Victoria. As her boss's words drew Laramie's attention, Victoria took action.
    "Move that paper," she hissed to Evangeline.
    "What?"
    "The one about the R-O-B-B —" Victoria stopped spelling to smile innocently when Ross Laramie's gaze darted back to her. Luckily, she heard the sound of a newspaper being rapidly folded behind her.
    Not that she thought Laramie was in any way involved.
    The man blinked, as if momentarily disoriented by her smile. Then he swung his attention back to Mr. Day. "You keep old papers?"
    "Ours, or other folks'?" Mr. Day grinned. Then, maybe because of Laramie's expression, his