by Natalie Dean
Chapter 4
Simon rubbed the crick in his neck, massaging his sore muscles. When it was his turn, he’d barely slept. Whether it was the criminal in the seat across from him or the poor woman in the compartment across the way, his thoughts buzzed around like a cacophony of bees circling his mind unwilling to let him have a moment’s peace.
She was such an intrigue to him. He’d been shocked to see her enter the dining car on the heels of an overweight man with red cheeks and a hunched old woman who, while so frail she looked like she might blow away, resembled the man somewhat.
The loud, overbearing man was the sort that had Simon wanting to put him in his place. He’d easily overheard their conversation, seeing as the man was loud and their table was right next to his. The man had taken away the woman’s right to choose her meal. He’d had half a mind to stand up and say that the woman should have what she wanted, even if it meant he had to eat later. The daydream had also included Simon saying a few not-so-nice things about how the man could stand to wait for his meal, but thankfully the Good Lord has stayed his temper enough to keep him in his seat.
Now, as he made his way down the corridor to meet back up with Tom, he hoped the coffee he’d just had would kick in soon. He needed to be alert and on his guard. Despite the fact that Tom had done his research about the train and the stops, and that they were in a secured car, Simon didn’t trust that nothing would happen. Call it intuition or perhaps just an overactive imagination, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances.
When Boomer had fallen asleep the night before, evidenced by loud snores that couldn’t have been fabricated, he’d talked with Tom about the reality of other criminals coming to his aid. Tom was nearly positive it wouldn’t happen, that it would take too much planning and that his arrest and subsequent transfer had happened so quickly there was no way his friends could plan his escape, but that left a lot to chance.
Boomer had a particular skill set, one that many criminals would love to take advantage of. Was it possible he could have managed to get word out, or someone close to him could have?
In the world of his own thoughts, Simon was barely aware of anyone else moving about in the early morning dawn of the sleeping section of the train. He only managed to look up in time to narrowly avoid running completely over a figure who had just exited the restroom.
“Autsch!” the figure said, staggering back from their impact.
While Simon hadn’t run the person over, he’d certainly collided with the individual, and he immediately felt ashamed that he’d let his thoughts distract him so.
“Excuse me. I am so sorry—”
His words halted, as warm, gold-flecked eyes met his and his breath hitched in his chest. It was her. The woman from the day before.
“Autsch!” she said again, whispering it this time with a grimace, and he realized he was stepping on her foot.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. He knew he was grinning like an idiot and couldn’t help it. Her German exclamation had reminded him so much of his grandmother’s that he was brought back to her house and the times when she’d stubbed her toe or pinched her finger. She’d always said that as well, but he hadn’t heard it since then. It was a fond memory.
“Guten morgen,” he said, hoping his German wasn’t as bad as it sounded to himself.
Her head shot up, and he knew she could see him trying to keep his laughter in. This whole situation struck his funny bone. The lack of a good night’s rest also likely had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep his chuckling to himself.
Then there was a drastic, sudden shift in her expression. If he wasn’t mistaken, tears filled her eyes, and she backed away quickly. Then, before he could stop her, she’d turned to go.
“Wait,” he said, stepping forward to follow her but tripping on the lip of the carpet where it transitioned to a new car.
She was gone by the time he regained his balance. He thought about following her, knowing that she was in the compartment across from his, but the look on her face made him hesitate. Had it been a bad idea to wish her good morning in German? Why had it affected her so?
He ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes. He was always making mistakes when it came to women, although there hadn’t been that many women. Besides, he reminded himself, he was here on a mission with Tom. Boomer was his focus, and anything that distracted him like that—like she did—should be pushed away, not brought close.
Still, if he’d said something to offend her, he wanted to make it right.
He slowly approached the door of their compartment. His gaze slid to the door opposite theirs. The curtains were drawn, making the window dark, and he wondered if she was back there or if she’d gone somewhere else. He was about to turn around when the door burst open, and he almost lost his balance again.
The gleaming white teeth of Boomer, shown through his overly confident smile, met him as he righted himself.
“Better watch yourself, Deputy,” the man said, a wild, crazed look in his eyes. “You might find yourself caught off guard.”
There was a warning look on the criminal’s features. Simon didn’t like it one bit, but then Tom was there behind the man saying they were going to get breakfast if Simon wanted to join them.
He considered staying behind and grabbing another forty-five minutes of sleep, but the uneasy feeling returned. “Yes,” he said, meeting Boomer’s gaze. “I’ll come along.”
It didn’t matter that he’d already eaten; he’d have another cup of coffee and take the crazed man’s idea to heart. He’d watch himself and Boomer, and he wouldn’t be distracted by the thought of a petite, brown-haired woman crying out in German.
* * *
Greta heard voices outside their compartment door and cringed. The man wouldn’t ask to come into their compartment, would he? It was a foolish idea, one that she knew better than to think was possible. They hadn’t even been introduced, but he had almost made to follow after her, and she’d all but run down the corridor.
She couldn’t believe it. How was it that every man she came in contact with thought it was a hilarious idea to make fun of her German? First Daniel and his incessant teasing, and now the handsome man from the hallway and dining car. He’d even tried to say good morning to her, and while it came out stilted, there was a hint of an accent there. Perhaps he’d been better at faking the accent out of sheer hilarity.
Her cheeks heated with her anger. Just because she was German didn’t mean people had to laugh at her. Why couldn’t anyone see that?
Closing her eyes, she looked around the compartment. Daniel was still asleep, as well as Cynthia, their light snores indicating rest. She envied them their ability to simply close their eyes and go back to sleep while she had sat there with her head back wishing and praying for slumber to overtake her.
But too much was on her mind. Chiefly, how was she going to get away from Daniel?
Now it wasn’t anger but shame that made her blush. It was wrong, wasn’t it? Wrong for her to wish to break a contract she’d entered into with the full knowledge of what she was doing. She’d agreed to come to America—had allowed Daniel to pay for her ticket—and now she wanted to go back on her word. How was that at all honorable?
She slid down into her seat and closed her eyes, resting her head back. When sleep did overtake her, she allowed it to pull her into complete oblivion.
When she awoke, it was much later and Daniel was gone. His mother Cynthia sat, her fingers twitching as her knitting needles moved back and forth, weaving yarn into something Greta couldn’t quite make out yet.
“Oh, you’re finally awake,” she said.
Greta wasn’t sure why, but she blushed at the old woman’s words. They were meant to hurt, meant to belittle. Perhaps her son had learned his ways from his mother.
Closing her eyes and asking for forgiveness for the uncharitable thought, she took in a deep breath. “Yes. I had trouble falling asleep last night. I was finally able to this
morning.”
“Humph,” the older woman grunted. “Did you bring any useful occupation for this time on the train?”
Greta looked round. Useful occupation?
“Knitting? Crochet?”
“I’m afraid not.” She wasn’t skilled in either—though she was loath to tell the older woman that.
“I see.” She paused, the clacking of her needles held for the moment. “You’d best make my son a good wife. He’s gone to such trouble to bring you back to Texas with him. I’d hate for you to disappoint him.”
Greta couldn’t help the slight rise of her eyebrows. Her disappoint him? Did the woman not hear how he treated her?
She opened her mouth then closed it. She wasn’t sure what she could say that wouldn’t be an outright lie to the woman.
“I shall try,” she finally said.
“See that you do. And don’t let that German heritage stand in the way of assimilating to this blessed culture. You’ll do well to forget your ways and find out how we do things here.”
Here Greta was, getting this lecture again and again. What was so bad with being German in America? It wasn’t as if she was insisting things be her way; she was just…German. She could no more change her hair color on a whim as she could her heritage. And, even if she could, she didn’t want to. She loved who she was and who her family had raised her to be.
She had left behind her parents and three siblings, two brothers and a sister, and she thought about them every day, and yet she knew that, even in America, she was carrying on for them. Bringing their legacy to America through her, if only in a small way. She wasn’t going to give that up, no matter what Daniel or his mother said to her.
Choosing not to say anything, she turned her attention to the one thing she had managed to bring with her. A small book, the Erklärung der Psalmen by Dr. Valentin Thalhofer. Her German Bible psalms book was precious to her and had many worn pages from the times she and her siblings had read it.
While Daniel and his overbearing mother were determined to strip her of her German heritage, she would cling to it like a lifeline to her past. She would not allow them to take something from her that was so precious and defining.
She read the first liturgical passage, one she’d read so many times, alone and in church, she’d lost count, and felt a semblance of peace wash over her. She would pray, lift up her hopes and fears to God, and hope that He would provide the answer for her to the problem of Daniel and his mother. There had to be a way out. There just had to be.
Chapter 5
Greta was beginning to feel as if her world was taking on a predictable turn. Daniel had come back later that morning and they’d all gone to lunch together. Then, after a few hours in the observation car where nothing of note happened, Daniel took Greta and his mother back to their compartment. With the gentleness of a rhino, he told them to stay put—in no uncertain terms.
He left—to play cards, so his mother said—and she amused herself with more reading and a bit of day dreaming. Unfortunately, her thoughts kept straying to the man she’d met. He wasn’t there at dinner again that night, and when Daniel came back exhausted from a rousing game of cards, he’d quickly fallen asleep.
Now, to the sounds of dual snoring on either side of her, Greta wished to sink into the ground. Not due to embarrassment this time, but sheer frustration. How could she sleep with the sounds nearly as loud as the train whistle itself?
An image of the caboose porch flooded her mind. Yes, that’s where she wanted to go. She wanted to be alone and to feel the rush of the wind and the ironic silence of the loud noise. The corner of her mouth quirked at the juxtaposition of that thought, but it was true. She could find solace in the white noise.
Making up her mind, she slowly rose, careful not to step near Daniel or his mother, and slipped from the compartment. The moment the door slid closed, she felt an intoxicating sense of freedom flood her veins.
The hallways of the train were all but empty, and Greta only passed a few people, mostly workers, on her way to the back of the long line of cars. She felt only slightly guilty for leaving their compartment, but Daniel had only forbidden her to leave earlier in the day. She’d choose to believe that he hadn’t meant ever.
Even the thought of his reprimand, telling her as well as his mother, to stay in the car, felt stifling. Perhaps he had meant it in a type of protective way, that they shouldn’t venture out without a chaperone, but that was foolish. It was a train, not the heart of a city, and despite the fact that she was German, she could find her way around a train just fine.
She tried and failed to suppress a smile at her sarcastic thoughts.
The door slid open and a rush of warmth struck her. The train itself had remained relatively bearable, though hot during the day at points when they were going slow or had to stop in a town. She knew that they had crossed over into Texas, or they were going to very soon. Apparently, summer in Texas was as hot as she’d heard it to be. For some reason, it felt good now though. The warmth surrounded her like a blanket. Rather than suffocating her, she felt comforted by it. Perhaps it was due to the coolness of their quarters or the cold nature of her thoughts toward Daniel, but she was more than ready to be out on this small platform for the rest of the night.
Of course that wouldn’t happen. She would go back like a dutiful fiancée, but she wanted just a little more of the peace the nighttime brought with it. The stars blinked high above her, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from them. They sparkled and shone with a vibrancy that stars only had further away from the bright lights of town.
Greta let out a belabored sigh just as the door slid open behind her. She startled, jolting forward at the unexpected movement. Her hip slammed into the metal railing, and she let out a cry of pain.
Immediately, a strong hand gripped her upper arms and held her still, waiting for her to regain her balance. Feeling ashamed that she’d been startled so badly in the worst, and likely least safe, area of the train, she dipped her head.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry.”
She made to move past the person shadowed in darkness when he spoke. “Don’t go. Please.”
She froze. It was the man from the dining car. The man who’d made fun of her! Defiantly, she stepped to move around him, but he didn’t move to block her path.
“Have I offended you?” he asked instead.
She stopped, fingers on the handle that would open the sliding door. When she looked up, she could see half of his features highlighted by the faint light from inside while the rest remained in darkness. She assumed he could see as much of her face as well.
“I don’t appreciate my German heritage becoming a laughing stock,” she said before she could think about her words.
“Laughing—oh no!” He shook his head so violently his dark curls, now visible absent his usual cowboy hat, bounced back and forth. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She frowned.
“I promise you that I wasn’t poking fun,” he continued, as if sensing her confusion. “Actually,” he looked sheepish now, “I was thinking back to my grandmother—she too was German—and she’d use the same expression. I’ll spare you my mispronunciation.”
“Oh,” was all she could say in the face of this information.
“Also, my terrible attempt at saying good morning was just that, a greeting, nothing more.”
Now she felt completely foolish. She was certain the half of her face that was illuminated was colored bright red. She dipped her eyes. “I beg your forgiveness. I…I suppose I jumped to conclusions.”
“Please, don’t apologize.” His voice was so soft that she looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes, their color indecipherable in the light, held such gentleness she felt her fear vanish in his presence.
“I should not have assumed you were making light of my…heritage.”
A look shadowed his features for a moment. “I wouldn’t. I promise.”
Though she had no reason to, she believed him. She desperat
ely wanted to ask for his name so she could stop thinking of him as the man from the cabin across the way, but she couldn’t think of a good or proper way to do so. Without a formal introduction, he would have to remain anonymous she supposed.
“May I ask what you’re doing out here?”
She considered him. and then, throwing caution to the wind, she smiled. “You may, as long as I may inquire as to your name.”
* * *
Simon was transfixed by the beautiful woman in front of him.
He’d wondered how to ask for her name but had gone with a simpler question first, only to have her request his name in answer. He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face.
“My name is Simon. Simon Brown.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Brown.”
He didn’t like the formality and decided to be bold himself. “Please, call me Simon if it’s not too informal.”
“I’d be happy to. My name is Greta Fischer, and you may call me Greta if you wish.”
He was transfixed by her and her lovely accent. And yet her English was excellently pronounced as well.
“Greta, you speak English extremely well. I hope you’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I do,” she said, looking pleased. “That is very kind of you to say.”
He wondered if it had anything to do with the man who’d accompanied her to the dining car. He was about to ask who he was, perhaps a brother or relative, when she spoke up.
“I came here to escape.”
Her words brought him back to the present. “Are you in danger?” Immediately his heart began to race, and he looked around as if someone might come out of the empty shadows to attack her.
