1
DAHLIA
The interior of the stage was stifling as it waited for another passenger. I fanned myself with my hand, but the August heat was not diminished by the shade the ceiling provided. The only reprieve was the breeze that stirred once the horses began to move. It seemed I would ride to Carver Junction alone and that suited me fine. The leather flaps were rolled up and the wind cooled my damp skin. Sweat trickled down between my breasts. I undid a few buttons at the top of my blouse. Just that little bit was helpful. Next, I tugged at my long skirt and pulled it up over my knees. Ah, bliss! It was markedly cooler this way. Not very modest or the least bit ladylike, but no one could see me.
We'd traveled less than a minute when the stage came to an abrupt halt. I would have slid onto
