Newhaven had definitely seen better days.
The sorcerer’s salon was closed, of course. From what she could tell, some derelicts had moved in to make it a one-dollar whiskey joint and card hall. Many shop windows and shelves were empty. The Chinese laundry was shuttered. The tannery where the shooting contest that had started Hettie on her misadventure had been shut down, too. The Robsons must’ve moved on.
She looked for friendly faces among the townsfolk but found none. People hurried through the streets, heads down, faces grim. If they paid her any mind, they gave her a wide berth as she and Ling hitched their horses outside the saloon.
“Better make this quick,” she said. “I don’t need anyone recognizing me.”
Cymon sat on the porch to watch the horses. Ling and Hettie pushed through th
