by Natalie Dean
Tom had picked up a book he was reading, and Simon left without a backward glance. His nerves were getting the best of him, but he pushed them down in favor of focusing on the facts. He was going to meet with Greta, explain that it was only appropriate for her to see him alongside her husband, and bid her goodnight.
Depending on what kind of information she had to share with him, he would take that into consideration, seeing as how it was part of his job, but other than that, it should take no more than ten minutes—if that.
As he straightened his shoulders, as if in a way to assure himself that that truly was all of it, he felt hesitation. What more could she say that would sway him to stay longer? What other facts could she have? Obviously, it was something important, or he didn’t think she would reach out to him in the way she had.
The thing that continued to confuse him was that she had seemed like such an honorable young woman. He never would have taken her as a woman who was interested in sneaking around behind her husband’s back.
Simon nodded to one of the train attendants as he made his way to the back of the line of cars. His heart began to beat more rapidly as he drew closer, and his palms grew damp at the thought of seeing Greta again. He tried to school himself and his features in preparation of seeing her, but he couldn’t quite get past the fact that he wanted to see her.
When he reached the caboose, he slid the door open and stepped out onto the platform, sure he was going to see her standing in the corner she fancied, looking up at the stars. When the realization dawned on him that she wasn’t there, he blinked several times. It was late, late enough to ensure that she would be there, but yet she wasn’t.
He wasn’t sure what he should do. Was this a sign from the Lord that they weren’t supposed to meet? He decided to wait, not long but long enough to ensure she hadn’t been delayed or made a stop to the restroom, but—as time wore on—it became painfully clear.
She wasn’t coming.
Simon knew that he should have felt good about this. She’d saved him the embarrassment of having to lightly admonish her to stay with her husband. Perhaps she’d been convicted and hadn’t wanted to come as well.
Either way, he stuffed down his disappointment and turned to leave. It was for the best, and when that reality finally sunk into his heart, he knew it would be better for them both.
Chapter 9
Greta felt the weight of the undelivered note in her pocket. Sick with worry, she hadn’t been able to get away from Daniel for even a minute. As if sensing her desire to flee, he’d had his mother go with her to the restroom, and he’d stayed glued to her side for the duration of breakfast.
They were coming close to the train stop where they would be getting off. Dry Gulch was the name of Daniel’s home town, and she knew, mostly because he’d reminded her at every juncture during the trip, that the moment they alighted on the soil of Dry Gulch he was going to take them to the Justice of the Peace to be wed.
The thought sickened her, but Daniel had become much more than simply a cajoler and teaser. He had become abusive and manipulative. She’d known men like him in her hometown. Those who only saw women as creatures to be bossed—and pushed—around. She’d vowed to never be one of those women, but with someone like Daniel, it was even more difficult to say no to him.
Greta felt the complete weight of being beholden to him in every sense—from her train fare to food to direction. Even if she could get away from him, she had no idea what she would do or where she would go.
The train was slowing, she could feel that much, and an attendant came down the hall, calling out for the stop of Dry Gulch. Nervously, she glanced at her small watch pinned inside her dress pocket. It was eleven fifteen. Her mouth went dry. The note had mentioned eleven forty five and that wasn’t far away.
She looked over and saw Daniel pushing things into his carpet bag, berating his mother for her slow pace of packing up her knitting. With one last glance at Daniel, she moved toward the doorway of the compartment.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. His gaze narrowed, and he looked from her to the bag she’d already finished packing.
“I was just going to freshen up before we arrive.”
“You just used the facilities,” he reminded her.
She blushed and bit her lip. What could she say? It was indelicate to discuss such things with a man who wasn’t her husband and, despite his belief that they were all but wed, she did not see him that way.
She tried to have an extra measure of courage. “Will you always pry so into my personal habits?”
He opened his mouth to reply then seemed to think better of it. “All right. Fine. You may go, but come right back.”
She wanted to remind him she wasn’t a child, but she had gotten her way, and anything more would risk him changing his mind. She nodded instead and pushed the door open.
Outside, after slowly closing the door, so as not to alert him to her anxiousness at being out of their compartment, she turned around and knocked on the door to the compartment across the way. It was bold, much bolder than she anticipated, but she was running out of time, and she knew it was crucial to tell Simon about the note.
She waited a moment then knocked again. Surely they had heard her the first time. Were they wary of opening it? That seemed odd though. Then she considered there might be a difference in cultures that she didn’t know about. Was there some proper etiquette for knocking on—
The door slid opened, and she came face to face with an attendant. “Yes, miss?”
“I—” she stared then stopped. She couldn’t very well say she was looking for the marshal to tell him about a mysterious note she’d picked up. “I was looking for the occupants of this compartment.” There, that sounded better.
“I believe they were to disembark first from the train. You may find them at the end of this train car or perhaps the next.”
She thanked the young man and stepped back into the hallway just as Daniel opened their compartment door and saw her. He assumed she’d already gone and come back from the washroom, and he ushered her back into their area to wait for the train to come to a complete stop.
Nervously, she wrung her dress in between her fingers. The minutes were ticking away, and she needed to warn Simon about what the note had said. She should have slipped it to him along with her other note, but she’d foolishly seen it as an opportunity to talk with him in person. Her own pride and desire had gotten in the way of what was best for him and the man he was traveling with.
Then again, was it possible that it was just a simple note? But if it were, why had the scruffy man hidden it? It made no sense. She also remembered the look in the scruffy man’s eyes and had a feeling that something was off about him.
When they were finally able to leave the compartment, she felt Daniel’s hand grip her upper arm with such force she gasped in pain.
“You’re hurting me,” she said in a low tone as they walked through the hallways.
“This wouldn’t have been necessary if you had proved your loyalty to me.”
Was he insane? Her loyalty to him, a monster who made her a laughing stock and obviously didn’t care about her at all?
She moved her arm in order for him to loosen his grip, but he only clamped down tighter. She winced in pain, sure the expression was plain on her face. That’s when, across the crowded platform, she caught sight of Simon. She and Daniel were just stepping down from the train, but the height of the step had given her the perfect vantage point to see above the heads.
Their gazes locked ,and she saw the instant he registered the pain Daniel was inflicting. A muscle in Simon’s jaw twitched, but as if he realized what he was doing, he shook his head slightly and refocused on the tall man in front of him.
She checked the time on the tall clock near the end of the platform. It was just after eleven thirty. She needed to get to Simon.
They walked a few steps from the train, and she turned to Daniel, hoping against hope
that he would be merciful. “Please, Daniel, allow me to say goodbye to a friend I made while on this journey. I’ll be back after and we may go.”
His eyes narrowed. “Would this be the same friend you were trying to meet in the secret of night? How foolish do you think I am?”
“Please, it is a matter of life and death.”
He laughed. “That must have different meanings here than in Germany. You are being foolish, and I’ll not have that.”
“You don’t understand.” She yanked her arm painfully from his grasp. “I will be back.” She set off for the other side of the platform right as Daniel scurried forward, as fast as his extra bulk would take him, he clamped his hand on her shoulder this time. “I said no,” he all but shouted.
She cried out, his fingers digging painfully in to the soft space between her collar bone and her shoulder. Bearing down his weight, she almost crumpled to the ground. Several people started to step back from them, the scene obviously drawing attention. She felt humiliated at his treatment of her, but she had to get to Simon.
“Simon,” she called out, as her last resort. “Hilf mir!”
* * *
Simon felt the world slow to a halt. He’d made eye contact with Greta as she stepped from the train. He hadn’t expected to see her, but she’d come out at the right moment for him to look up and catch her gaze on him. A cruel thing, in his opinion. He’d almost been able to keep her from his mind. Almost.
Then he’d seen the look of pain that flashed across her beautiful features as her husband clamped his hand even tighter around her arm. His blood had surged up in him, flooding his veins with hot fury at the man’s treatment of his wife. No woman deserved to be handled in such a crass manner.
If he hadn’t been assigned a task—a responsibility—he would have left his post and shown the man a piece of his mind. As it was, they were waiting to meet up with the other marshals who would then take Boomer to his cell. Tom knew them and said they would be there any minute.
Simon couldn’t afford to have his attention split between Greta and Boomer, so he refocused on the criminal in front of him. His job had to come first. It was what he knew and what needed his attention most. Still, the image of her pain seared his attention, and he fought to keep his focus in front of him.
That’s when he heard it.
“Simon! Hilf mir!”
It was one thing for him to hear German; it was another for him to actually understand it, but these words he did. It was very clearly Greta calling out for him, and he immediately recognized the words, though when he’d heard them from his grandma they had been spoken softly. Now, he heard them shouted with fear.
Help me!
He looked over to Tom. “I’ve got to—”
Tom nodded, his grip tightening on Boomer’s arm. Only then did it occur to Simon that Greta could be some type of distraction purposefully set in motion to aid in Boomer’s escape. Was it possible? But no, he thought back to their many conversations. She’d never tried to get near Boomer, hadn’t even asked about the man or what Simon was doing on the train—in fact, she hadn’t known until later that he was even a marshal.
He shoved the thoughts aside and told Tom he’d be right back, and then he fought his way through the crowd toward where the scream had come.
She was there, almost on the ground in obvious pain, as the man who claimed to be her husband stood over her with his hand on her shoulder. His pudgy fingers were digging into her, and Simon couldn’t help the rage that made his hands ball into fists. Then, without warning even to himself, Simon threw a punch at the man.
He sailed back, as the crowd gave a collective gasp. Simon didn’t care about what anyone thought; he only had eyes for Greta, who had slumped the rest of the way onto the rough boards of the train platform. She was crying; he could see the moisture of tears on her cheeks; and it nearly broke him in two. Seeing her cry hurt more than his fist where it had connected with the man’s face.
“Greta, are you all right?” He knelt beside her, worry at her condition making everything else around him fade into the distance. For this moment, it was just the two of them.
She pushed up from where she’d fallen and met his gaze. Then, taking his hands, she pressed something into his palm. “Quick. It’s almost time.”
He didn’t register what she meant.
As if she could see his confusion, she nodded toward the paper. “I saw someone give this to the man you are escorting. It’s almost time!”
Simon wasn’t sure if it was her frantic tone or his training as a marshal that kicked in, but as realization dawned, he looked down at read the note. His blood ran cold.
Chapter 10
Greta wasn’t sure what to do next. As she watched Simon rush away, she felt her only chance slipping from her grasp; her only chance at explaining what had happened and clearing up the misunderstanding Daniel had created.
Then, with one quick look at Daniel, who had his handkerchief pushed up against his bloody nose, she stood and rushed through the stunned crowd after Simon.
She caught sight of him not too far away, talking with the tall man. Now, as she was looking for it, she could see that the scruffy man’s hands were cuffed beneath his jacket and the other man had a good grip on his upper arm.
While not wanting to interfere with marshal business, she felt the need to explain more about what had happened—or, at the very least, describe the man who had passed the note. She was just stepping forward to get Simon’s attention when she saw him.
He stood at the edge of the platform, leaning up against the station building as if he hadn’t a care in the world. As she stared at him, she could see he was tense though. The rigid line of his shoulders and the set of his jaw betrayed his easy stance. She followed his gaze and saw that he had made eye contact with another man who acted similarly. They both were attempting to put on a relaxed air, but as she observed the other man, she even saw his hand slip unconsciously to his hip where she saw the butt of a gun.
Gasping, she threw caution to the wind and approached Simon. “I must speak with you.”
He turned, looking surprised to see her again. “Now is not the time.” His words were hard, but she knew they spoke out of worry for her.
“It’s urgent. I believe I can help.” She nodded her head toward the scruffy man and kept her eye contact with Simon.
“Go on,” the other man said. “Hear her out.”
Simon let out a sigh and ushered her behind the other two men so they could speak privately.
“Really, now is not the time to have a conversation about—"
“Please, Simon.” She reached out and let her hand rest lightly on his forearm. “I see the man who delivered the note.”
Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?”
“Yes,” she kept her voice low. “He’s—”
“Get away from her!”
Greta wanted to melt into the ground at the sound of Daniel’s voice behind them. She turned around and was determined this time that she was going to say what was on her mind.
“Stop!” Her voice shook with emotion, but Daniel halted where he stood, his brow furrowing. “You have made a mockery of our time together, and I will not stand for it any longer.”
Greta knew that this was not the time—nor the place—to have this conversation. She hadn’t thought through most of it, aside from the overarching fact that she could not marry this tyrant. Perhaps she’d be put on the streets or maybe God could make a way for her to find shelter elsewhere, but she would die before marrying this brute.
“I am not your wife nor am I your property. You do not treat me with the respect I deserve, and therefore I am renouncing my engagement to you.”
Daniel opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Then, as if coming to his senses, he stepped forward. “You can’t do that!”
“I can, and I will. You will leave me alone or…or…” she wasn’t sure what to threaten.
“Or you’ll answer to m
e.” Simon stepped up beside her, placing a protective hand at her lower back.
“You,” Daniel said, but that was all he got out. Simon took a step forward and, perhaps because he remembered the force of his earlier punch, Daniel backed up several paces then, with one last reproachful look, turned and left.
Simon’s gaze turned down to hers and for a blissful moment—mere seconds—she thought of him as the knight in shining armor she’d read about in books when she was younger. But the gravity of the situation quickly descended with his next words.
“Who is it? Please, point them out.”
It took her a second to realize what he was asking, but then she remembered. Something was going to happen, and it involved a man she now knew was their prisoner. “Over there,” she indicated with a slight tilt of her head. “And I think that man is involved as well.” She pointed the other person out.
“Good. Thank you.” Simon made to leave but stopped abruptly, as if thinking better of it. “Will you wait? Somewhere out of sight—somewhere safe? I’ll come for you.”
She nodded her head yes and watched him disappear into the crowd and back toward the other men. She lifted up a prayer for safety for him and then backed away to find a safe spot to wait.
Yes, she would wait. She would wait for him for the rest of her life if she had to.
* * *
Simon wove his way through the crowd and back to where Tom stood with Boomer. The news of the note was shocking to say the least, but it also fit. Someone—or many people—were set on getting Boomer out of the custody of the U.S. Marshals Service. Without being able to contact the marshals coming to pick him up, they were like sitting ducks, waiting to be shot at.
The thought twisted Simon’s gut. There were a lot of people still on the platform. Perhaps that was the criminals’ thought. Attack close to noon and count on the marshals’ focus on keeping the people safe, not so much Boomer.
