<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Early Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Main Street<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Nathan Hunter, Open<br/><hr/><strong>“The Golden Mare."</strong>She decided after a moment of consideration.<strong>"And you don't have to do that."</strong>She saw the look in his eye, the set of his jaw, and she relented.<strong>"Yes, you can send the dress, but don't go out of you way to do so."</strong>She agreed.<br/><br/>She thought a lot about how she'd introduce herself at the hotel.  Should she use her married name, or her maiden?  The mining claim was in her maiden name, and she had no legal documents to support her marriage - either of her marriages, though she'd as soon forget her second one - she hadn't wanted it to begin with and it wasn't legal anywhere but in Deseret and she wasn't even sure it was legal there, and besides Mortimer and most of her sister wives where dead after the Sioux attack.<br/><br/>She still felt married to Breed, but was she ever going to see him again?  She didn't even know how to find that wonderful old Spanish Mission or if they had any record of the marriage.  Somewhere in the southwestern desert there might be a note in a parish record book, but there was a lot of desert in the southwest United States.  And the Saints took her wedding ring - confiscated it as evidence of her husband's crime.  It was almost like she'd never been married, except in her memory.  Breed said it himself - best to forget him.  It would certainly make things easier.  She'd best just use her given name and forget ever being married.<br/><br/>When they got to the hotel she stopped and released Nathan's arm.<strong>"Thank you so much."</strong>She told him, staring straight into his eyes.<strong>"For everything."</strong>She added.<strong>"I... I'll never forget what you did for me."</strong>She leaned forward and brushed the driest of kisses against his unshaven jaw.<strong>"Don't be a stranger!"</strong>She warned.<strong>"I know you have work and I feel selfish keeping you."</strong>She stepped back, wondering why this felt so much like good bye. Heavens!  His house wasn't a minute's walk from where they stood!<br/><br/>Once they parted she entered the hotel and approached the clerk.<strong>"Good day."</strong>She greeted the menial with just the right amount of haughty civility.<strong>"I am told on good authority that you have the best rooms in this... town."</strong>She let her manner and tone indicate she didn't think Gomorra quite worthy of the status of town.<strong>"I would like to let a room.  By the month would do.  My business here should be completed by then."</strong>She hoped.<strong>"The best room you have - and does that come with amenities?"</strong>She negotiated over the price and the services until finally she decided she got what she wanted, if not quite for the price she wanted.<br/><br/><strong>"You may register me as Mrs. Marguerite Landry."</strong>She was shocked as the words left her mouth - apparently her subconscious had made up it's own mind about who she was, and it wasn't about to let pragmatic considerations interfere with what it wanted.<strong>"Formerly Marguerite Tuerny, of Baltimore, Maryland."</strong>She amended.  When the clerk asked if her husband would be joining her she almost lost her composure.<strong>"I... I'm afraid he can not."</strong>She confessed, but if the clerk expected an explanation for her upset he was to be disappointed.<br/><br/><strong>"Is there a Catholic church in town?"</strong>She asked, listening closely to the directions once the clerk affirmed that there was.<strong>"And a dress shop?"</strong>She listened again to the options.  Shouldn't be too difficult to find the shoppe - it wasn't like there was more than the one business district.  She thought to ask for the lawyer, but that could wait until after she met with the Judge.<br/><br/>She took the key and turned away when the clerk stopped her by asking for payment.  She froze, and turned about with the stiffest of spines and simply the most withering look imaginable.<strong>"I presumed you'd take payment when I checked out - but I suppose when one is past the edge of civilization and into the barbaric frontier, one must..."</strong>She'd timed the outrage and the outburst to coincide with the arrival of a man which she fervently hoped was the manager - because if she actually had to pull $30 out of her purse...<br/><br/>The manager apologized profusely, assuring her that he did not doubt the good word of a Lady such as herself - and did she have any collateral?  Oh of course he didn't doubt her identity and he was sure her credit was good!   It was just...  She'd be there a whole month?  And she'd settle the bill at the end of the month, along with any expenses?  And if her investments needed more attention she might be making an extended stay?  The man was running up figures in his head - why this woman might generate more income than the rest of his rooms combined.  Of course her credit was good!<br/>