“He didn’t strike me as the sort who backs off from much of anything once he’s got his mind made up,” Bo answered. “But all we can do is keep our eyes open and deal with any problems that come up.”
“I’ll tell you what’s come up—my appetite. It’s about time to eat, Bo, and they’ve got a dinin’ room in this hotel.”
Bo smiled and said, “Go ahead and get some dinner. I’ll spell you out here. Then you can come back and I’ll get something to eat.”
“A mighty fine plan,” Scratch agreed. He hurried off toward the arched entrance to the dining room on the other side of the lobby.
Bo sat down in the same chair, thumbed his hat back on his head, and looked around. As Scratch had said, people were coming and going, but none of them looked threatening.
A quarter of an hour later, Cyrus Keegan walked in from the street.
“I thought I might find you here,” he said as he came over to Bo. “Any trouble?”
“Not a bit. Scratch has gone to eat dinner.”
“A good idea.” Keegan reached inside his coat and brought out two rectangular pieces of pasteboard. “Here are your tickets. The ladies have compartments, but I’m afraid all I could get for you and Scratch are regular seats.”
“That’ll be fine,” Bo assured him as he took the tickets and tucked them away in his own inside coat pocket. “We’ve slept sitting up on a train many a time. And we’re only talking about one night. I reckon the train gets into El Paso tomorrow?”
“Around noon,” Keegan confirmed. “Have you seen the young ladies?”
“No, but Scratch talked to all of them and said they were all right.”
A worried frown creased Keegan’s forehead. “I just find it hard to believe that Craddock isn’t going to show up and cause more trouble,” he said.
“Even the most annoying hombre decides to back off every now and then. One thing I’ve learned, Cyrus, is to take any luck you can, where and when it comes to you.”
“Words to live by,” Keegan muttered.
A few minutes later, Scratch returned from the dining room. He grinned and rubbed his belly as he said, “Mighty good grub, Bo. I left you a little, so you’d best go get it. Howdy, Cyrus. Everything all right?”
“Yes. I just gave Bo your tickets for the train. I also paid to have your horses shipped in one of the stock cars. The train arrives at one forty-five and leaves at two.”
“We’ll be ready,” Bo promised.
“And I’ll be on hand to make sure the ladies are situated properly,” Keegan added.
“Why don’t you come have dinner with me?”
Keegan smiled and said, “Lantana always packs my lunch for me. Today I have roast beef sandwiches from last night’s leftovers. No offense, Bo, but I don’t think I want to miss that.”
“None taken,” Bo assured him with a grin in return. “I wouldn’t want to, either!”
* * *
Bo left the hotel at 1:30 p.m. to get the horses and take them to the railroad station at the southern end of downtown. It was a long walk from the livery stable to the station, so he swung up into the saddle and rode.
His and Scratch’s visit to Fort Worth had been eventful, he thought as he headed down Main Street. It hadn’t been quite twenty-four hours since they’d ridden in, and in that time they had been involved in a shoot-out and a brawl, had made some new friends—and possibly some enemies—and had been introduced to five of the prettiest young women he’d seen in a long time. Not only that, but they were also on the verge of spending the next several days in the company of those beauties.
He didn’t think either of them could have predicted those things when they left South Texas to drift in this direction. Well, the shoot-out and the brawl, maybe, because things like that always seemed to happen sooner or later wherever he and Scratch were . . . but not the other things.
The train’s whistle sounded as Bo approached the huge brick depot building. He saw puffs of smoke rising into the air on the other side of the building and knew they came from the locomotive’s smokestack.
A carriage with bags piled on top of it had pulled up in front of the station. It must have just come to a stop, because Scratch was still on the seat beside the driver. As he climbed down, Cyrus Keegan emerged from the vehicle and stood beside the door to help each of the young women out in turn.
Bo pinched his hat brim as he nodded to the women and said, “Looks like we’ve got good timing, ladies. I’ll see about getting these horses loaded.”
“And I’ll supervise the baggage handlin’,” Scratch said.
“While I escort the ladies to their compartments,” Keegan put in. He waved a hand. “Right this way.”
Porters came out to load the bags onto carts. As soon as that was done, the hired carriage driver flicked the reins against the backs of his team and drove off.
By then, Bo had circled the depot with the horses to a livestock loading area at the eastern end of the building. Keegan had also given him the sheet of paper authorizing him to have the horses loaded into one of the stock cars.
“Take good care of them,” he told the men who tended to the animals.
“We will, mister,” one of them promised. “Looks like a fine pair of horses.”
“They’ve traveled a lot of long, hard trails,” Bo said.
Sort of like him and Scratch, he thought.
With that taken care of, he walked along the tracks to the steps leading up to the station platform. As he did that, his eyes scanned the crowds around the train.
He wasn’t convinced that Hugh Craddock had given up. Sure, the rancher’s declaration that the matter wasn’t finished yet had contained a certain amount of bluster. But even taking that into account, Bo believed that Craddock meant what he said.
And even though it was ridiculous that Craddock thought he could marry Cecilia Spaulding after having laid eyes on her once, that was what he’d said he intended to do, and his pride would make him carry through on the promise. Or try to, anyway.
So Bo more than halfway expected to see Craddock or some of the rancher’s men lurking around the depot. However, he didn’t spot any of them. Maybe he was wrong and Craddock had some sense in his head.
Just to make sure, though, he went up the steps into the rearmost passenger car and began working his way toward the front of the train, checking each car for familiar faces and signs of potential trouble.
The car where the Pullman compartments were located was the first one behind the engine and tender. The compartments weren’t made up in the middle of the day like this, of course. Bo found the ladies sitting on comfortable benches. Scratch and Keegan stood nearby.
Keegan had his bowler hat in his hand. He bent forward almost in a bow and said, “It’s been a pleasure to have met you ladies, and please, once you’ve settled into your new homes, I really hope you’ll write to me and let me know how you’re doing.”
“Why, sure we will, Mr. Keegan,” Rose Winston said. “Won’t we, girls?”
The others murmured agreement.
“I wish you the best of luck,” Keegan went on. “If you ever find yourselves back in Fort Worth, drop in to see me.” He put his hat on and smiled solemnly. “Good-bye.”
They said their farewells. Keegan lifted a hand in response and left the car, stepping out into the vestibule, then going down the steps to the platform.
“Stay here,” Bo told Scratch. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Don’t let the train go off and leave you,” Scratch warned.
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Bo swung down to the platform, where Keegan had stopped to stand and dab at his eyes with a handkerchief. He put it away quickly when he saw Bo.
“I wasn’t crying,” he said. “It’s the smoke from the locomotive, you know. It irritates my eyes.”
“It can sure do that, all right,” Bo agreed.
“I realize it’s foolish. I barely know those girls. And yet a part of me almost fee
ls like they’re my daughters. You know? I don’t have any children of my own, so I suppose I . . .” Keegan’s voice trailed off. Then he added, “So I suppose I’m a foolish old man.”
“Not hardly,” Bo said. “I just wanted to let you know that I checked through the other cars and didn’t see any sign of Craddock or his men. I sort of thought he might show up and start more trouble.”
“So did I. In fact, I worried about it quite a bit. I’m glad you made sure he’s not here. That really eases my mind.”
“Of course, there could be other problems along the way . . .”
Keegan smiled and said, “I know. But that’s why you and Scratch are going along. I’m confident that whatever happens, you’ll be able to handle it.”
“That’s the plan,” Bo said.
The conductor was moving along the observation platform beside the train now, bellowing, “All aboooard!”
Bo held out his hand to Keegan and said, “So long, Cyrus. I’ll wire you when we get to El Paso to let you know we made it that far safely, and if there’s a telegraph in Silverhill, I’ll do the same when we get there.”
“There’s supposed to be a telegraph,” Keegan said as he shook Bo’s hand. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you.”
Steam billowed from the engine. The whistle shrilled. As the drivers engaged on the rails, Bo stepped up onto the platform at the back of the car and lifted a hand in farewell. Keegan was still standing on the station platform, watching, as the train rolled out, heading westbound.
* * *
Five minutes later, a tall, rangy figure bounded from the station lobby onto the platform, looked around, and uttered a heartfelt “Damnation!”
One of the porters passing by paused and asked, “Something wrong, sir?”
“The westbound train headed for El Paso, it’s already gone?”
“Yes, sir. Pulled out just a few minutes ago, right on time. We try to keep to the schedule here. Stationmaster won’t have it no other way.”
Hugh Craddock cursed again. If it hadn’t taken him so long to discover where the five young women were going . . . if he hadn’t had to visit several hotels and grease a dozen palms to find out what he needed to know . . . he might have gotten here in time to plead his case again.
He could make Cecilia Spaulding see the light if she would just give him a chance. He knew he could.
“Mister,” the porter said, frowning, “are you all right?”
Craddock got control of his anger and frustration and asked, “Did five ladies get on the train?”
“There were quite a few passengers boardin’ today. I expect more’n five of ’em were ladies.”
Craddock started to snap impatiently at the man but stopped himself in time. Forcing himself to stay calm, he said, “If you happened to see the ladies I’m looking for, you’d remember them. You’d never forget them. They’re all young and beautiful, especially this slender, dark-haired one . . .”
Craddock’s voice trailed off as Cecilia Spaulding’s image filled his mind. He couldn’t have said why he was so drawn to her, but the attraction she held for him was undeniable. She was like a lodestone, and he was nothing more than a crude chunk of iron, caught by unfathomable forces.
The porter scratched his head and said, “Well, I might know who you’re talkin’ about, sir.”
Craddock bit back another curse, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a silver dollar. The porter’s open palm appeared as if by magic. Craddock slapped the coin into it.
“Five young women, like you said. All mighty fine lookin’, if I can be so bold as to say so, sir. I saw ’em get on the train, all right.”
“You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already mention to you,” Craddock snapped.
“There was two older fellas with ’em,” the porter replied. “Looked sort of like cowboys, they did. And you didn’t say nothin’ about them.”
No, he hadn’t, Craddock thought. If the porter had seen Creel and Morton with the young women, then he was still on the right trail. He was sure of that.
“So they got on the train for El Paso.”
“Yes, sir. Fact is, I helped load their bags in the baggage car.”
Craddock nodded and asked, “When’s the next westbound?”
The porter cleared his throat meaningfully.
“For God’s sake,” Craddock said. “I can go back in the station and look at the damned schedule board!”
The porter shrugged and said, “There’s a westbound at eight o’clock this evenin’.”
Eight o’clock. Craddock knew the delay would gnaw at his guts.
But the train would reach El Paso in less than twenty-four hours. Any other way he tried to make the journey would take a week or more. By that time, the ladies and their annoying escorts would have reached Silverhill, their ultimate destination in New Mexico Territory.
No, like it or not, Craddock knew that if he was ever going to catch up to Cecilia and make her understand that they were meant to be together, he had to catch that eight o’clock train. At least he’d have plenty of time to round up the men he had brought with him from the ranch, he told himself.
The porter broke into his thoughts by asking, “Anything else you want to know, mister?”
Craddock shook his head and said, “No. Not a damned thing.”
Cecilia Spaulding thought she could get away from him, but he wasn’t going to allow that.
Whatever it took, she was going to be his wife.
CHAPTER 9
Bo rejoined Scratch and the five young women in the railroad car. Scratch was sitting on one of the benches, between Beth Macy and Rose Winston, and seemed to be having the time of his life. He had a big grin on his face, that was for sure, Bo noted.
“Well, we’re on our way,” he said as he thumbed back his hat and leaned against the wall. “By this time tomorrow, you ladies will be in El Paso.”
“Have you been there before, Mr. Creel?” Cecilia Spaulding asked.
Scratch answered the question before Bo could, saying, “Why, sure we’ve been there. Bo and I have visited El Paso plenty of times.”
“What’s it like?” Cecilia wanted to know.
“It’s a border town,” Bo said, as if that answered the question all by itself.
Still grinning, Scratch said, “What Bo means is that it can be a mite rambunctious at times. Cuidad Juárez, the Mexican town right across the Rio Grande, is pretty much wide open. Fellas from both sides of the border go there to cut loose their wolf. El Paso itself, on our side of the river, has tamed down some over the years because there’s been a Ranger post there for a long time. But it can still get to be quite a fandango now and then.”
“I love listening to you talk, Mr. Morton,” Luella Tolman said. “You’re so . . . colorful.”
“Yeah, he’s that, all right,” Bo commented dryly. “Don’t let what he’s saying spook you, though, ladies. There’s a good chance you’ll be in El Paso for only one night, and we’ll find a decent, comfortable hotel where you can stay. I’m hoping that by day after tomorrow, we’ll be ready to set out for Silverhill.”
“By wagon?” Cecilia asked.
Bo nodded and said, “That’s probably the best way. There’ll be room for all you ladies and your bags. The other alternative would be to go by stagecoach, and I don’t know how often—or even if—they run to Silverhill.”
“Bein’ as it’s a mining town, there’s a good chance there’s a stage line,” Scratch said.
“We’ll see. The ladies might be more comfortable traveling by wagon, though.”
“Yeah, those old Concords can be a mite rough,” Scratch agreed.
“Why not buy horses?” Beth suggested. “All of us know how to ride.”
“You’re sure of that?” Scratch asked.
“Of course. We’re all from the same town. Four Corners, Iowa.”
“We’ve known each other all our lives,” Rose added. Bo raked a thumbnail along his jawline, tugged at h
is right earlobe, and said, “Silverhill is more than a hundred miles from El Paso. I don’t imagine any of you ladies are used to riding that far on horseback.”
“That’s true,” Cecilia said. “I’ve never done more than ride around the park in our hometown on a Sunday afternoon.”
“Plus, we’d still have to have a wagon of some sort for your bags,” Bo said. “It makes more sense just to get one big enough to carry everything.”
Cecilia smiled. “We’ll bow to your better judgment, Mr. Creel,” she said. “You and Mr. Morton are the ones with the experience out here in the West, after all.”
“Why don’t you call him Bo and me Scratch?” the silver-haired Texan said.
“That seems disrespectful,” Jean Parker said. “You’re both so much older than us.”
“We ain’t ever been the sort of fellas to stand on ceremony. Ain’t that right, Bo?”
Bo said, “You ladies just call us whatever you’re comfortable calling us.”
“As long as it ain’t late for supper,” Scratch added.
Rose frowned and shook her head, then said, “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t call us late for supper. It’s, uh, a joke, I reckon.”
“Oh,” Rose said, although she still nodded doubtfully. “And a very amusing one.”
* * *
The distance was considerable between Fort Worth and El Paso. Crossing most of Texas was like traveling across several normal states.
Of course, there was nothing normal about Texas as far as Bo and Scratch were concerned. As sons of the Lone Star State since before it even existed, they knew good and well that everything about Texas was better than normal and always would be.
Even if the train were able to run at top speed all the way, without stopping, it would take ten or twelve hours to reach El Paso. As it was, since the train had to make stops in numerous towns along the way, the journey would take almost twice that long. By evening, the train had reached Abilene, a settlement with the same name as the more notorious cow town in Kansas.
There was no dining car on this run, but while they were stopped in Abilene, a boy pushing a cart came around and sold sandwiches and fruit. Bo and Scratch had known from experience that supper on the train was liable not to amount to much. That was why they had eaten good midday meals at the hotel in Fort Worth.
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