“Everything all right?” the man asked.
“Yes,” Helen assured him, plopping down and pulling Kitty close to her.
“Where are you young ladies traveling to?” Mr. Guthrie pushed his hat back so he could closely inspect them.
“Pathways,” Kitty simply explained.
“Katherine is going to marry a sheriff,” Helen spilled.
“A sheriff?” Mr. Guthrie chuckled under his thick beard. “Well, now, life as a sheriff’s wife should be downright exciting.”
“Here is hoping it will not be too exciting, Mr. Guthrie,” Kitty answered.
“And you?” He looked to Helen. “Do you have a young deputy waiting for you?”
“Goodness, no. I would not be opposed to meeting a handsome cowboy, though.”
“Helen,” Kitty gasped, surprised by the brash and the forward attitude.
“The land isn’t wanting for cattle hands,” Mr. Guthrie said. “That’s for sure. But as for a handsome one? I don’t know how many of those there are.”
“I shall take my chances,” Helen smiled.
“Your sheriff,” Mr. Guthrie slowly said, turning his attention back to Kitty. “What area is he policing?”
“Shallow Springs, sir.”
“I’ve been there. An agreeable town. Cute little church. Friendly folks.”
The news brightened Kitty’s mood immensely. If there were a nice chapel and good neighbors to be had, surely life in Shallow Springs could not be that bad.
“That is wonderful to hear,” she told him. “Thank you.”
Kitty was glad as the conversation turned to Mr. Guthrie’s war stories as it took the spotlight off her. However, it was the kind of topic that intrigued Helen to no end, but for which Kitty had little interest. So, as Mr. Guthrie detailed the bullet in his leg that led to him missing the battle in Gettysburg, Kitty’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To Shallow Springs, Wyoming… It would be her new home. Perhaps the place she would spend the rest of her life. In it, there was supposedly a nice church; pleasant people; but more importantly her sister would be with her.
And a faceless sheriff waiting to make Kitty his wife.
She had taken a chance with the mail-order bride agency, knowing that both she and Helen had little options. What respectable, well-off men in Pennsylvania would marry maids with no dowries and no social or familial standing?
Not only was Sheriff Ross willing to marry Kitty without ever having laid eyes on her, but he had also agreed to take Helen into his home as well. It was an opportunity that could not be passed over. The sisters were leaving behind years of maid work and struggle, and they were going to be able to stay together in the same house.
The fortune they’d stumbled upon was near perfect. Unless, of course…
He is like Father.
Kitty pressed her lips together and destroyed that thought. If Sheriff Ross did turn out to be like her father had been, she and Helen would leave immediately. No questions asked. No hesitations. Sleeping in the street would be better than enduring the torment of their childhood once more.
Kitty’s dear mother, bless her soul, might have fallen for the manipulations of an ill, cowardly man, but Kitty never would. No one would hurt her or Helen, and no one would break them down.
“And now where do you live, Mr. Guthrie?” Helen was asking.
He hesitated. “I can’t rightly say I live anywhere, Miss Byrum.”
Kitty cut her eyes to him, wondering just what that meant. Before she could mull over it further, a screeching noise filled the air, and she was flung forward, right into the seat across from her.
“Oh!” Helen shrieked, tumbling against Mr. Guthrie, who caught her and helped her stand up straight.
All around the car, passengers pulled themselves up from the floor, muttering and crying out their frustrations.
“What was that?” Kitty asked, straightening the brown coat of her traveling dress. She could feel a few strands of hair had come loose from her bun and were cascading down her neck. But her heart was now fluttering and her hands shaking too badly to fix them. Her previously-neat bun would have to wait for its repair.
“Train stopped.” Mr. Guthrie frowned.
“Yes. But why?”
“Perhaps they have to fix something,” Helen suggested. “I do hope we won’t be late getting into Pathways. Surely we aren’t that far now.”
Kitty held tight to the edge of the seat as she stood. Outside of the window, everything seemed normal. The green and tan tufts of grass still blew in the breeze. The clouds drifted across the sky. And, further on, the Rocky Mountains silently observed the whole scene.
“I shall go and see what is the matter,” Kitty announced.
Helen pursed her lips. “I am sure that, no matter what the issue is, it will be resolved in a minute.”
“You stay here,” Kitty instructed, ignoring Helen’s comment. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Guthrie’s face as she turned away. His eyebrows were pushed together, and his eyes darted around the car with apprehension.
At least he is as concerned as I am, Kitty thought. In her mind, there was no sense in not being wary.
Opening the door at the front, she let herself into the next car, which was more populated than the one before it. If memory served her right, the front of the train was just another car away. Perhaps she could find the conductor and receive an answer.
“Do you know what has happened?” a woman asked Kitty. “Why have we stopped?”
“No. I’m sorry. I do not know.”
In front of her, two men grumbled about the ‘nerve’ of stopping a train with no warning. Trailing her fingers along the seat tops just in case the locomotive should start again, Kitty continued on.
A few more steps and she would be to the next door. Kitty reached for it, ready to slide it open when an ear-splitting scream filled the air.
Chapter Two
2. Cyrus
Chapter two
Cyrus’ legs ached something awful. He was used to riding for days at a time, but for some reason this week was different. He should have been enjoying the good, spring weather, but he couldn’t. Instead, his muscles screamed, and his head kept on hammering.
Despite the pain, he was glad he’d taken his time getting to Wyoming. No trains or stagecoaches for him. He’d grown up half-wild and spent his whole adulthood chasing the next sunrise. Give him a horse and saddle, and he was good to go.
Course, a little money never hurt as well.
Which was really what it all came down to sooner or later, he realized as he rode the thoroughbred along the wagon trail in the grass. Money was the reason he’d given up the job in California and accepted the position in Shallow Springs.
Money, and other things.
Much as Cyrus fancied the adventure of not knowing where the next day would take him, there was a part of him that also craved stability. A house with a garden. Neighbors who knew him well. A wife to cook his dinner.
He didn’t have any illusions when it came to settling down. All he expected were the most practical parts of a home-life… and those he would get. A woman to take care of the household duties, maybe share some chatter with. They didn’t need to become close, and he didn’t need to sire any young ones.
But not being alone once he reached death would be nice. Not to mention having a woman waiting for him in bed each night wouldn’t be bad either.
As for the sister Katherine Byrum was bringing with her, well that was fine as well. Cyrus figured, seeing as the second girl was seventeen, she’d have no problem finding a husband in Shallow Springs. And even if she didn’t, no matter. His sheriff’s salary would be more than enough to support three people.
Sucking in a long breath, Cyrus stretched as best he could in the saddle. Pathways was still a good ten miles away, and though he wanted to stop and take a break, hurrying up and getting to town would be more satisfying.
The road rose up, taking Cyrus up a gentle hill. Neari
ng the top, he saw dark plumes of smoke.
“Whoa,” he told the horse, who came to a stop. A valley stretched out in front of him, and foothills covered with evergreens and mountains capped with mysteries extending beyond it. About half a mile into the valley, just as Cyrus had expected, a train perched on its tracks.
What was unexpected was that the train sat still.
Cyrus frowned in consternation. What could a train be stopping in the middle of an empty valley for?
It was Katherine Byrum’s train he looked at, he knew. She and her sister were coming into Pathways that very day. Knowing they were on the stopped train made Cyrus more anxious.
The hackles rose on the back of his neck, making him quickly glance over his shoulder, though he would have heard if someone were following him. Something wasn’t right. Whether it was a feeling in the air or a feeling in his gut, Cyrus didn’t know.
Guiding the horse down the hill, he cut left, heading in the direction of the back end of the train. Everything looked normal in the caboose, with no signs of disruption or people.
Halfway to the train, screaming erupted. Cyrus’ reflexes sprang into action, and he pulled his left pistol from the holster on his hip. At the same time, he pushed the horse into a gallop, making a beeline to the train. As they came upon the metal beast, he dropped from the horse and to his feet.
The horse stamped its hooves, none too pleased about the sudden and flurried activity.
“Shh,” Cyrus whispered, hoping his assurance worked to keep him calm. He didn’t need the horse getting spooked and running off.
The thoroughbred quieted down a little bit, and Cyrus bent closer to the ground, squatting so he could peer under the train’s belly.
On the other side of the train, several sets of boots stamped around. Men called to each other, and someone responded in irritation.
A robbery?
Cyrus swallowed, the familiar, fearful excitement pulsing through his veins. Taking his horse’s reins in hand, he shuffled along the train. If this were a hold-up, he’d be no match for the robbers. Not unless some of the passengers on the train were also armed and prepared to shoot if it came to that.
As he neared the edge of the train, he swung back up into the horse’s saddle. The best bet was to ride for Pathways and fetch help. The problem was, he’d been lucky sneaking up to the train. No one had noticed him. He might not be that lucky sneaking away from it.
If the robbers were just planning on taking possessions, that was one thing. No use in getting shot over a watch and some cash. The best thing to do would be to keep an eye on the situation and see how it developed.
Cyrus stayed motionless, keeping the horse still as possible and his pistol at the ready. He knew he’d walked into a dangerous situation, but now there was no retreating. Best thing to do was just see it out… and hopefully, live to tell the tale.
This had been his job back in California, assessing possible danger and deciding whether taking the offensive was worth it. He’d been good at that position. Now, he wondered if a little bit of travel and time off had made him lose his touch. He’d snuck too close when the best thing to do might have been to keep his distance and watch from afar.
A rustling sounded over Cyrus’ shoulder, and he turned in the saddle just in time to see a man come around the edge of the train. Time slowed down, just as it always did with trouble on the horizon. Cyrus saw the man’s eyes go wide in surprise, the sunlight gleaming off the barrel of the stranger’s gun.
Without thinking, Cyrus raised his weapon and pulled the trigger. The man went down from the force, his back hitting the earth with a noise almost as thunderous as the gunshot.
Cyrus’ horse spooked, rearing up on its hind legs. He dug his feet into the stirrups, pressing his thighs hard into the animal’s flank in an attempt to hold on. As the horse’s front hooves hit the ground once more, Cyrus made a split-second decision.
Jumping from the horse, he grabbed hold of the caboose’s railing and swung onto the tiny platform. His horse took off, and Cyrus slammed his shoulder into the door. It gave way under his weight, and in he tumbled, turning his fall into a roll and scurrying behind a wooden crate for cover.
Pistol raised at the ready, he gathered his breathing and listened for whatever was to come next. As he suspected, there was the sound of running outside, as the dead man’s accomplices checked out the scene.
Cyrus did a quick sweep of the caboose, looking for anything that could be of help. Above his head, a window was cracked. Slowly, Cyrus lifted himself and peered out of it. A man with a vest in tatters and mud-splattered pants rode his horse at a gallop along the train, coming in the direction of the caboose. Cyrus pointed his gun out the window, waiting for the right moment…
The bang reverberated in Cyrus’ skull, but the rider remained unscathed. Instead, he jumped from his saddle, using his horse as a protective barrier as he searched for the attacker.
Cyrus ducked back down, cursing under his breath. He was in a relatively good spot, one he could likely defend himself from, but there was no telling how many outlaws were out there. He did, however, know the count of his bullets, and those wouldn’t last forever.
Another shot sounded, this one from the front of the train. Yells followed, and Cyrus grimaced. He had to make his way to the front, to help the people stuck up there. But first, he had to take care of those who could shoot him in the back.
Footsteps hit the wood to his left, and Cyrus looked over to see a third man coming through the door he’d left open. Before the man could see him hiding, Cyrus reached around the crate and fired a shot.
The man ducked, taking the bullet in his left arm as he extended his right to shoot back. Cyrus dodged behind the barrel, and when he peered around it again, the man was gone.
Another scream came from the train, rattling Cyrus’ senses.
“Tarnations,” he hissed, hauling himself up and running headlong into danger.
Chapter Three
3. Kitty
Chapter three
Kitty’s blood ran cold as the screaming continued on. Pivoting on her heel, she looked toward the back of the train, in the direction the yell had come from.
Helen.
Kitty knew the scream had not been her sister’s. But fear still churned in her gut. She’d heard Helen yell many times and would recognize the sound anywhere. But the fact that someone close to Helen was in distress had her anxiety rising.
“What’s going on?” a woman fearfully asked.
The two men nearest Kitty stiffened, and one of them strode forward to open the door at the end.
“Don’t!” Kitty shouted, but it was too late. Two men pushed their way into the car, knocking the finely-dressed gentleman to the side.
The newcomers were different from the train passengers in almost every way possible. Their clothes were worn and hung loosely, their chaps covered in dust. Seasons of weather showed on the faces in the form of deep set tans and stretched, withered skin. But most striking of all were the pistols in their hands. Each man brandished two, and they sauntered into the car like shoppers checking out a general store’s goods.
Outlaws. Robbers. The brand of people Kitty had heard stories about. Back in Philadelphia, those stories had been nothing more than tools for amusement. All at once, here in Wyoming, they’d become a reality.
Kitty’s breath burned in her throat and chest. The men had come from the direction Helen was in. Was she all right? Had they done anything to her or anyone else?
Every part of Kitty’s body screamed at her to rush to the back car to find her sister, but she clenched her fingers and stayed where she was. Even one step would be an invitation to be killed.
“What’s the meaning of this?” a man in a bowler hat demanded.
The outlaw closest sauntered up to him, taking his time with each step, knowing he was in charge. The bowler-hat man lifted his chin, staring the outlaw down, acting brave. Kitty could nearly smell the fear in the car, though.
One of the women made a whimpering noise, pressing her handkerchief to her mouth.
“Let’s see that pocket watch,” the outlaw said.
“What pocket watch?” the man asked, a slight shake to his voice.
The outlaw smirked, flashing just a hint of yellow teeth. “Come now. I know someone dressed as fancy as you don’t walk around without a pocket watch on them. So where is it?” He used one pistol to lift the man’s jacket.
Her Rocky Trail_Seeing Ranch series Page 2
