by Natalie Dean
“Hopefully associated with good things,” he said with a grin. “You likely know my superior, Jake Cranston.”
Recognition lit through the room. While Hank was well known among the U.S. Marshal Service circles, Jake Cranston was a legend. Tough as nails, no-nonsense, and smart as a whip. Simon felt he was a man about whom clichés were made.
Standing, Simon and Andy took turns shaking the new deputy’s hand. Tom looked to be about Simon’s age, give or take a few years, and had a youthful exuberance about him that made Simon like him immediately.
“What can we do for you?” Hank said, clearly unaffected by who his superior was. As always, Hank was down to business.
“Would you like some water? Coffee maybe? It’s likely not hot though,” Simon offered by way of making up for his ornery boss.
“I’ll pass,” Tom said with a slight grimace at the thought of lukewarm coffee. “But I’ll take a chair if you all will.”
They agreed and sat down as Tom pulled the spare chair up to face them all.
“I’ve been sent here on assignment.”
“Were we supposed to know about this?” Andy asked, looking concerned.
“I don’t think so,” Tom said. “I think it’s happened so fast that there was no time to plan this any better than we have.”
“What exactly are you planning?” Hank asked.
“Criminal transport.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose at this. They hadn’t been a part of an official criminal transport yet. He wondered who’d been caught and why they were being called upon to help.
“Let’s have the details then,” Hank prompted.
“Course, sir,” Tom said. He pulled a sheaf of folded papers from his inner coat pocket and handed them over to Hank. “To summarize, Boomer Smith is being transported to Dry Gulch for trial.”
Simon calculated the route. They would likely have to take the train, knowing it would be the fastest means of transportation to Dry Gulch from Cypress Creek.
“He’s on his way by stage to Cypress Creek as we speak,” Tom continued. “I came from Dry Gulch to escort him, but I’d like to request a marshal to go with me. While Boomer isn’t known to be the violent type, we’re afraid of who he’s worked with in the past and his special skills.”
“You mean the fact that he likes to blow things up?” Andy added with dry humor.
“Exactly.”
“Not too many criminals in the West that can work with explosives like this man has, and we’d like to keep it that way.”
“Says here you’re just needing one man. Is that right?” Hank said, pulling his spectacles from his nose and peering over at Tom.
“That’s right. I think two of us should handle him just fine. He’ll, of course, be cuffed and under our care the whole time in a private compartment.”
If Simon was right, despite the fact he wasn’t up to speed with all of the rail times to various locations, it would be several days on the train. Would two men be enough?
“I would feel more comfortable with three men,” Tom admitted, as if reading Simon’s mind, “but the suggestion is two, and I think that’s reasonable.”
“Agreed,” Hank said, setting the letter down and turning to look at Andy and Simon. “Well, which one of you wants it?”
Simon desperately wanted to take the assignment, but Andy was his senior by a year in the Marshal Service. Technically, he had first pick.
“You want to take it?” Andy asked, meeting Simon’s gaze.
Simon noted the hopeful expression there and wondered if marriage hadn’t permanently altered his friend.
“Sure,” he said, putting his uncharitable thoughts to the side. He wanted it anyway, so what did it matter why Andy had offered it to him rather than accepting it himself.
“Great,” Tom said, offering a wide, enthusiastic grin to Simon. “You all got a place I can bunk down for the night?”
Simon smiled this time. “Why don’t you come stay with me?” he offered.
“Sounds good. Maybe we can grab a bite beforehand though?” Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I’m starving!”
“Done,” Simon said, nodding his head once in agreement. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. His lonely nights seemed to be getting less lonely by the minute.
* * *
Greta walked nearly the length of the train one way and then back again. With a quick peek into their private car, she was happy to see that both Daniel and his mother were still asleep. She continued her prolonged pacing, hoping that the exercise, while little, might help stimulate her mind and her heart.
The feeling of burden and worry had only continued to grow heavier as the days progressed. Daniel was condescending, often times rude, and occasionally so loud that Greta wished she could melt onto the floor in a puddle rather than be seen with him. His mother, whom she now understood to be hard of hearing, seemed oblivious—or was it accepting?—of the actions of her son.
Greta could not ignore him though. While her own family tended to be loud, none of them made a spectacle of themselves as Daniel did. None of them had such blatant disregard for others as Daniel did. And none of them were so horrible to her as Daniel was.
She fought back tears as she remembered his rude comments to her at breakfast that morning. Instructing her on how to eat properly, on how to pronounce the word marmalade, and how he’d brought over several other guests to hear her say it wrong, only to laugh at her and make her say it again and again until she got it right.
Humiliating.
Her tears dried into anger, and she fisted her hands on her next pass along the hallways. Why had she agreed to marry this man without getting to know him? He had seemed kind in the few letters they had exchanged before she decided to accept his proposal and the ticket to America. He had shared sweet anecdotes from his past and his devotion to his mother had seemed admirable at the time. Had it all been a lie?
“Excuse me, miss?”
Greta turned to see a train attendant behind her with a stack of towels.
“I’m very sorry.” He merely smiled, as she stepped to the side to watch him pass. Perhaps the railways needed more workers? Did they hire women? She was certain that, despite Daniel’s overreactions to her accent, she spoke well enough to get by. Certainly someone could need an extra pair of hands. Perhaps a busy family with children would need a nanny?
Her gaze darted around the car she entered as if the answer might be hidden among the burgundy-covered seats. Everyone was engaged in some activity, either reading the newspaper, a book, or looking out the window. A few dozed as well, but no one had a look that said, I’m hiring and you’ll do nicely.
She knew it was foolishness to even think it, but she was realizing more quickly by the hour, that she could not—would not—marry Daniel Evans.
Was it wrong though? Wrong to want something better for her life? Wrong to wonder just how binding her contract with Daniel was?
She paused, reaching the back of the train and realizing it too, like her path in America, ended.
“Miss?” She turned to see the same attendant she’d passed in the hallway. “You can go out if you’d like. There’s a secure railing. It’s one of my favorite places—and views. Especially at night.” He smiled and, with a quick nod, turned away.
Reaching a tentative hand out, she slid the back door open and found that the boy had spoken the truth. There was a railed-in platform at the back of the train. It was loud and windy, but it was perfect.
She stepped out and slid the door closed behind her, relishing in the simple freedom of being alone. This was a place where she could think and pray.
A place where she could hope.
Perhaps, like her own problem, there was a way out that she hadn’t seen yet.
Chapter 3
Simon held Boomer’s elbow as he maneuvered him down the narrow hallways. He definitely didn’t like the tight quarters of this train, but at the same time, he didn’t have a lot of options. In fact, he didn’t
have a lot of say in anything that happened with this assignment. Tom was taking the lead, and he was to defer to him, but he found that easier than expected since he and Tom had hit it off right away.
When he’d offered up a bedroll on the floor of his cabin to the man, he’d never expected they would become friends as quickly as they had. Tom was a decent fellow with a good sense of humor and an even finer sense of duty. He took his job seriously, as Simon could tell based on the plans for this transport, but he also wasn’t opposed to having a laugh here and there. He reminded Simon a little of Andy, but he couldn’t compare the two, and he didn’t want to.
“All clear,” Tom said under his breath, as he made his way back toward them. He’d gone ahead to scout out their compartment and make sure it was in line with the arrangements he’d made ahead of time with the train attendant. Thankfully, everyone was cooperating with them, making it easy for them to bring the criminal on board with minimal upset, but still there were high stakes on the line.
The success of this mission landed heavily on their shoulders, but also on the fact that no one was supposed to realize that Boomer was a prisoner. The less people who knew about who was traveling with them, the better.
That was hard to do, seeing as how Boomer needed to be handcuffed, but they had almost worked out all the kinks on that front, putting him in the only available private car where he’d stay most of the time. They’d even arranged for meals to be ready at certain times for them and barring any unforeseen things that may arise, Simon was feeling optimistic about the next several days.
“Here we are,” Tom said. He shot a look up and down the corridor and then slid the compartment door open. He slipped inside to check out the small room while Simon kept his hold on Boomer.
“Excuse me,” a feminine voice said from behind him.
Simon’s gut clenched. He didn’t want any woman near this man. Despite the fact that he was cuffed, though the cuffs were concealed beneath the jacket he was wearing over his hands, Simon didn’t trust the fugitive. He wasn’t known for violent crimes, but one ever knew the depths of depravity to which a criminal would go.
“Uh,” Simon, felt trapped in the small hallway. He couldn’t turn to face the woman without letting go of Boomer, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that no matter what. He tried to crane his neck back but only saw brown hair on top of a petite head. “Just one minute,” he said.
“Okay,” Tom said, coming back out. “Oh, sorry miss.” He ushered Boomer in, and Simon made to follow, stepping into the doorway to allow the woman to pass, but she paused in front of him, as if she couldn’t continue on past the point of their compartment. That wouldn’t do.
“Miss?” he said, unsure of why she’d stopped.
She turned to look up at him, and her brown eyes, flecked with gold, pierced him deeply. It was a look of desperation that met his gaze.
“Is everything all right?” his concern for her safety increased as he saw trepidation written on her features.
“I—I’ll be fine.”
There it was again, a definite accent. The sound of it triggered a long-stored memory of his German grandmother.
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking up and down the hall. Was she waiting for someone?
She looked at the door across from theirs and then back to him. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Then, reaching out, she began to slide the door open. So she was staying in the compartment across from them. Now it was all beginning to make sense.
“Good afternoon,” he said, reaching up to tip his hat.
She offered a small, timid smile and dipped her head before slipping into the compartment and closing the door behind her
He did the same, almost mirroring her actions exactly, but he couldn’t help but wonder who she was traveling with and why she’d hesitated before going in. He hadn’t imagined the look in her eyes. It was a mingling of wariness and resignation. What could have her responding in such a way to those she was traveling with? Or was it someone else on the train?
“Simon?” Tom said.
By the way Tom was looking at him, it wasn’t the first time he’d said his name. “Sorry. What?”
Simon put Boomer in the opposite seat, his right hand now cuffed to the armrest and his gaze turned outward. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“I was asking if everything was all right.”
“Oh. Yes.” The look on the woman’s face as she said she was fine filled his vision. “Just checking the hallway,” he added lamely.
“Good,” Tom said, looking satisfied. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, knowing that he was up for a promotion soon. “I’ll take the first watch then. You want to grab something for us to eat?”
Simon’s gaze went to the door and the thin window there. Perhaps he’d see the woman again in the dining car?
“Sure, I’ll go.”
“Bring me back some whiskey,” Boomer said, not taking his eyes from the window.
“Think again, old man,” Simon said, shaking his head. He shared a look with Tom and then slipped from their compartment, careful to close their door again. The attendants knew better than to check on them, so they would remain undisturbed for the entirety of the trip.
He glanced at the compartment across the way but knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything even if he placed his face to the foggy glass. Something he wasn’t likely to do anyway. Instead, he turned his attention to the hallway and made his way to the dining car. He had to keep his focus on what really mattered—his mission with Tom—no matter how beautiful the woman from the neighboring compartment appeared.
* * *
Greta felt her cheeks heat when her gaze collided with the handsome man from the hallway. They had just entered the dining car, Daniel’s loud, exuberant voice leading the way, and she felt the motion around her cease, or perhaps it faded into the background as the man’s gray-blue eyes found hers. His dark, curly hair was a rumpled mess, which lent him a boyish look, but he was far from being a boy.
His broad, manly shoulders tugged at the seams of his simple blue shirt, and she could just make out the corded muscles of his forearms as they rested on the table, peeking out from rolled-up sleeves.
Who was he? He certainly hadn’t been on the train before the last stop, no one had occupied the compartment across from theirs, but now there were three men in it.
She realized she was staring and pulled her gaze away, her cheeks flooding with warmth. Would he notice?
“Come on, dearie, no need to remain at the front.”
“They must seat us,” she reminded him.
“Nonsense,” he said, tossing a hand to stay her further objections. “There’s a perfectly good table right there.” He made his way toward an empty table right next to that of the handsome man. Greta wanted to curl into a ball for both Daniel’s overbearing nature as much as for the fact that the man was still staring at her rather pointedly. What did he see? Was there something on her face?
She almost laughed, the humor taking her by surprise, but it quickly faded as a waiter tried to get Daniel to take a different table.
“I call nonsense. This is a perfectly good table, and I am starving. And a paying customer, I might add.” He tipped his head toward the younger man as if he should know this already and as if not all of the patrons were paying their own way.
“I…yes, sir,” the young man finally said. In the wake of Daniel Evans, it seemed most cowed down to him eventually.
Daniel took the chair that was closest to the man and his mother sat next to him, leaving the seat across from Daniel open. She’d thought to sit where she couldn’t see the man, so as not to be distracted, but her plan failed miserably. Instead, she turned her attention to the menu in front of her until Daniel snatched it up.
“You won’t be needing that.”
“I…won’t?” she said, incredulous.
“What with last night’s fiasco”—he shook his head and gave an overexaggerated shudder—“I won
’t have you asking a thousand questions of our poor waiter.”
Her eyes widened. So he was concerned for their waiter now?
“I merely wanted to know—”
“Too much. That’s what. Then your special requests delayed our meal significantly. I’ll be ordering for you from now on. Don’t worry my little sugar plum, you’ll enjoy what I pick for you. I’m certain.”
She couldn’t believe his audacity. So now he was taking away her right to choose what she wanted for dinner? What was next? What bonnet she wore? Where she went? How she held her tea cup?
Fury made her fists clench just as the waiter stepped up. He turned all of his attention on Daniel, likely having learned that anything else would fail, and Greta looked away. Anywhere but at the man in front of her who was—not-so-slowly—taking over her life before they were even married.
Her gaze slipped from the scene racing by outside of the train car to the young man diagonally across from her. He was looking her way again. His gaze slid to Daniel then back to her, his eyebrows raising in question. She suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes as if to say, What can I do?
He frowned, his eyebrows dipping deeply to make a V and gave a slight shake of his head. He disapproved of Daniel’s actions; it was clear.
She offered a slight shrug just as the waiter stepped back, effectively cutting off their view of each other.
“Thank you,” the waiter said, looking a little dazed, before he turned to leave.
Rather than continue their silent conversation, she looked back down at the place setting in front of her. She couldn’t afford to make a friend with someone on this train. Especially not someone like that handsome man, who seemed to have both a sense of humor and compassion.
Just then a pregnant woman came in with her husband. The rest of the tables were taken up, and before the waiter could even ask, the young man had relinquished his table, opting to take his food with him and give the table over to the young couple. They thanked him with warm smiles and a firm handshake from the husband. However, before the man left the car, he looked back at her. His gaze flickered to Daniel, who was telling his mother something rather forcefully, then back to her. He shook his head, lips pursed, and she felt as if she could read his thoughts. “Whoever that is, you need to get away,” she imagined him saying. Then he was gone.
