There was anticipation flooding every nerve as I dismounted the carriage and stepped down into the dirt that was acting as a road. I looked around, the arid wind lifting a few of the long, brown strands that had come free from my hair. I placed a hand on the top of my head, holding the small, deep green hat in place. It did little to protect my eyes from the harsh glare of the sun or my hair from the tangling wind, but it was the height of fashion back in Boston. The ribbons that hung from the hat snapped behind me in the wind.

I stepped away from the carriage, the heavy material of my forest green skirt pushing away the dust that tried to attach to my black riding boots. I looked around the town. Not much had been done here yet. A few odd buildings, a few tents, horses, and the typical equipment of a new settlement town. It would take time for us to develop into a thriving community, but with the enthusiasm Jack had displayed when describing this place to me back in Boston, I knew it wouldn’t take long.

I turned to train my green eyes on the building that had been constructed for my journey west. It was a large, two-story Inn and Saloon. The bar would be the entire lower floor, with the upper floor separated into several rooms for travelers and…other activities. I moved away from the carriage as the coachman removed my luggage and belongings from the top.

I took the three steps up to the wooden walk way that stretched the length of the front of the building. I walked slowly from the end, toward the center, admiring the sturdy construction of the building, the fresh scent of newly lumbered wood, and the glorious windows in each side of the door. I stood before one, eight feet tall and four feet wide. I admired my reflection in it, noticing that the black bodice I wore had a bit too much road dust on it for my taste, but using the sleeve of my white shirt to brush it away.

I traced my hand over the freshly painted words on the window. “The Western Jewel” I had always wanted a place of my own, but Boston, for all it’s cosmopolitan ways, was yet to be accepting of woman run establishments. That was the real reason I was here. Adventure, expansion, and the chance to build a fortune of my own. My father would have rolled over in his grave if he knew my inheritance from his shipping business had gone into the purchase of an inn in the Wild West. Thankfully, Jack was a discreet man who helped me purchase the property and keep the transaction from my brothers and family.

Now I was here, standing before my own saloon and I felt opportunity knocking. This was where I would make my mark on the world. I inhaled deep, letting the new scent of dessert plants and dust engulf me. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the heat of the mid-afternoon day. This was home now.

I pushed through the swinging double doors, noting that I would have to have them lowered to accommodate my five foot height. No tavern owner should risk the chance of her own door swinging back to knock her in the head. As I entered the lower floor, the scent of fresh wood washed over me again. I inhaled deep and smiled, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the smells of beer, whiskey, tobacco, and worse took foot in my establishment.

When I moved into the room, I turned in a slow circle, admiring the fresh felt on the Faro and Poker tables, the perfectly polished bar stretching the length of one wall, the elevated stage for dancing girls, the elegant piano to the side, the tables and chairs cluttering the floor. This would be a good place for me. I would have my chance to entertain the crowds, but still maintained the reputation I needed to in Boston. Hopefully.

I moved through the bar, admiring the way the light filtered through the windows. I wondered what it would look like at night, what it would look like filled with sweating masses of people, girls on stage, in men’s laps, or up in the rooms upstairs. I made my way to the staircase in the back of the saloon, reaching out to the polished, light colored wood that curved up to make a railing.

I looked over the floor of the bar below as I moved up the stairs, my long skirts playing on each step. It was set up perfectly, as Jack has promised it would be when he left Boston with my investment and instructions. I smiled to myself, turning to look up the stairs. When I reached the top, there were 9 closed doors, creating a balcony to look over half the bar, the other half with the stage was open for each level to see.

I went to the second door, knowing it would be one of the Inn rooms, opening it and leaning in to examine the room. It was simple, a bed, a dresser, a basin, a chamber pot under the bed. It held the smell of fresh wood and new feather bed. It would be very comfortable once the bedding, curtains, and decorations arrived. I had sent them by train, rather than taking up more room in the carriage.

I closed the door and moved to the first one at the top of the stairs, knowing the others on this floor would all be stark hotel rooms. For now. The first room, however was mine. I pushed that door open, walking into the corner room. It was split into two parts. An office and receiving parlor just inside the door and deeper in, a bedroom.

I moved into the office, running my fingertips over the dark mahogany desk that Jack had taken from my home in Boston to have here waiting for me. It was my father’s and my grandfather’s before that. Now it would be mine and the centerpiece of my new enterprise. The rest of the room was bare, save a few chairs, small tables, the huge undecorated feather bed, a wardrobe, and a bathtub. Once my trunks were brought up from the carriage, I would see to a bath.