by Jane Goodger
Genny let out a small sigh, leaned her head against the window, and watched the dry, rolling hills that dominated the landscape go by. There’d be plenty of sights to see later in the trip, but at the moment, there wasn’t much more than grass and scrub to occupy the imagination. He had to find something useful for her to do during their trip. He tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to him, a smile on her face, an unexpected bit of cheer that had him grateful she was such a good traveling companion. “Want me to teach you how to play poker?”
And that’s how they occupied their time until Chinese waiters, their braids slapping back and forth, served them a dinner of roasted oysters and beef.
As the sky darkened outside, the porter lit their oil lamps, giving the room a cozy feeling of intimacy. One of the passengers took out an accordion and at the first note, Genny moved toward the edge of her seat, flashing him another brilliant smile. Every time she gave him one of those, his gut hurt a little bit more. He was starting to wish she was a bit more ornery so he could relax. He felt on edge, as if he wanted to punch something—like the middle-aged man who kept leering at Genny. Didn’t he know she was married? Hell, even if she wasn’t really, Mitch still wanted to punch the bastard. What kind of man looked at another man’s wife like that? Mitch glared at him until the man’s focus shifted to Mitch and the older man started, immediately bringing his attention back to the accordion player.
“Oh, this is lovely, isn’t it, Mitch? And to think I was nervous about riding on a train. I barely remember our trip out West, but the time we were on the train was rather frightening. And dirty.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory. “I remember my face and hands were completely covered with black dust. And my father’s too. I hardly recognized him, and of course, I didn’t know it would all wash off.” She looked around the room as if she’d never seen anything so delightful in her life. “But this, this is like traveling in a moving hotel.”
“That’s the point of it. Here, let’s switch spots so you can see better.”
That grand idea turned out to be one of the worst mistakes Mitch could have made. For as the evening wore on and the accordion player switched to melancholy songs, Mitch could see Genny grow more and more sleepy, until she finally succumbed, her warm body slumping back against his chest. He shifted slightly, hoping to wake her, but she snuggled deeper against him, letting out a small sigh of pure contentment. Mitch was left with one hand awkwardly slung across the couch and the other dangling down. He could smell her pretty soap, that stupid indulgence he’d bought for her, which he now regretted with every fiber in his being. She smelled so damned good and was so soft and warm against him, he thought he would surely burst into flame.
She turned a bit, digging her head slightly into his chest, and put an arm around his waist. Oh, Lord, help me.
She started slowly falling and he knew if he didn’t put his arm around her, she’d drop to the floor. Part of him thought to let it happen, but he ended up putting both arms around her and pulling her even closer. Why not? Why not let himself enjoy holding her?
The car was quieting down as more and more people had the porter build their beds. The only sound above the clatter of the train was the creaking of the beds as they were pulled down, the gentle murmur of voices, and the occasional snap of a crisp sheet being pulled around the mattresses. One by one, the porter dimmed the lanterns. Mitch figured no one could see him now. Mr. and Mrs. Walsh had settled down a while ago, Mrs. Walsh giving him a smile as she took in the sleeping Genny. Mitch bent his head, pushing his nose into the soft luxury of Genny’s hair, and breathed in deeply, feeling his throat ache the same way it had the first time he’d seen the Grand Canyon. Something so beautiful it hurt his heart always seemed to affect him that way. He tightened his arms, just a bit, now afraid to awaken her. He might never get this chance again, to hold her in his arms. Soon enough, she’d be in England and he’d be waving good-bye. He pressed his lips against her head and closed his eyes, his chest burning with something that felt a hell of a lot like regret.
He’d probably be saying good-bye in four weeks. He could picture her, wearing some fancy dress, her hair all done up, grandparents standing smiling behind her. She’d hate to say good-bye, but she’d be smiling, ready for her new life. She’d be where she belonged. He knew that, he had to know that. But as he pictured himself turning away and heading back home, it all seemed so wrong. Funny, in that daydream, he hadn’t thought about how nice it would be to have full pockets.
“Sir, would you like me to make up your beds?”
Mitch opened his eyes to see a black man looking at him expectantly. “Yes, thank you.” Genny stirred and sat up drowsily.
“I fell asleep.”
“Like a log.”
She looked back over her shoulder, her blonde hair falling across her face, and gave him a sleepy smile. His gut churned again, because all he could think of at that moment was waking up every morning to see that beautiful face, that sleepy smile. The next four weeks were going to be pure hell.
Going to the necessary while the train was moving was always a bit of a challenge—and to be honest a bit nerve-racking. Just below the commode, the tracks flew by and Genny, even though she knew it was impossible, was afraid to fall through. Or have something jump up. She sat, her bottom feeling the breeze from the open hole, and as she did her business, she realized the train was slowing to a stop. Oh, goodness, she hadn’t realized they were so close to a station. It was bad form to go while in a station. Mortified, Genny quickly finished and peeked out the window, seeing nothing but yellowed grass and birch trees in the distance. Perhaps the station was on the other side of the train? Behind her, the car was strangely quiet. Usually when they pulled up into a station, there was a hubbub of activity. Something was wrong. It was the same feeling she would get out in the forest when all the birds went silent, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.
As quietly as possible, Genny unlatched the door, straining her ears for a sound. That’s when she heard a low, rough male voice say, “I’m not gonna hurt none of y’all if’n you politely hand me your wallets.”
Genny put a hand over her mouth, fearing the man might hear her breathing. If Mitch gave the man all their money, how would she get to England?
“That better be a wallet you’re reachin’ for, mister,” the man growled.
And Genny knew, she just knew, that Mitch had been reaching for his rifle. Most of the other passengers hadn’t been the sort to have a rifle, but Mitch had put his beneath their seat. Fear suddenly turned into something else Genny hadn’t felt since the day she’d found her father. It was a calmness, a sense of inevitability. She knew that if she didn’t do something, Mitch would die.
Silently, she pushed open the door, her eyes wide. She almost let out a sound of surprise, for not six feet in front of her she saw the broad back of a man, his greasy long hair touching the back of his dust-covered red shirt. He had a bandana covering his face and a battered old Cavalry hat jammed on his head. She looked past the man to see the frightened eyes of the passengers but quickly determined, at least in their car, the man was alone. He was standing, all wiry raw energy, with a rifle raised, pointing directly at Mitch.
One of the passengers spotted her, his eyes widening, and Genny shook her head and pressed a finger of warning against her lips. To her right was a cane leaning up against a seat, its owner an older woman who huddled fearfully against her husband. Moving slowly, fearing the outlaw might hear the soft rustling of her dress, Genny picked up the cane, quickly determining she wouldn’t have enough room to swing the thing to do much harm to the man. So she did the next best thing.
“Please drop your rifle, sir, I know how to shoot and I shall have no problem shooting you if you continue to frighten these good people.” She jammed the bottom of the cane against his back, praying he was too nervous to realize what he was feeling wasn’t a rifle.
The man stiffened and several passengers gasped.
“Now
, sir. I don’t want to shoot you in the back, not very sporting of me, but I will. Drop your gun, if you please.”
Genny’s voice shook a bit, but she pressed the end of the cane harder against the man’s back.
The man raised his arms, but kept the rifle in one hand. “Now, little lady, you don’t want to do anything foolish.”
“I actually do. Shall I shoot him?” She asked the question politely of the passengers, as if she were really leaving it up to them to decide his fate.
Mitch stood, his face pale, the lines around his mouth deep. Genny had never seen that expression on any man before and didn’t know what to make of it. He walked toward the man, his hand extended. “Drop the rifle and she’ll let you live.”
To Genny’s relief, the man sighed and set the rifle down, swearing beneath his breath. Mitch quickly took up the gun and pointed it at the would-be robber.
“On your knees. And put your hands behind your back. Genny, you use Mr. Pitsley’s tie and bind his wrists.” Mr. Pitsley, the man Mitch had been playing cribbage with the day before, quickly took off his tie and handed it to Genny.
“You said you’d let me go,” the outlaw said, outraged.
“And I will. But right now I trust you about as much as I trust a rattlesnake. Hands behind your back or I swear you’ll be limping all the way home with a hole in your leg.”
“Alright, alright.”
The man put his hands behind his back and Genny quickly tied them, pulling tightly and making him curse again. When she was done, Mitch handed the rifle to the nearest passenger and hauled the robber up to his feet. “How many others are there?”
A man’s voice from outside called, “Jake, where the hell are you? You know Bobby doesn’t want us messin’ with the passengers. Get your ass on out here before he finds out, you sorry bastard.”
“Ah, one of your friends.” Mitch bent over and looked out the window and smiled grimly. “You best get a move on. If I’m not mistaken, looks like you boys are about to get some company.” The man looked out the window and swore. On the opposite side of the train where his buddy was waiting, a large cloud of dust was rising up, and in the middle of that cloud were several men on horseback.
“Someone ratted us out,” the man said, giving Mitch a look of desperation.
A general cheer rose up from the train when the men on horseback came into view.
“Shit,” the man said, and then he repeated that word when he saw the small, blonde woman standing behind him wielding a menacing cane. Genny smiled and Mitch’s heart near exploded from his chest. He didn’t really care when the man, his hands still tied, made a dash for the back of the train and the still-open door. He heard what sounded like a man falling face first into the dust. But all he saw was Genny standing there smiling at him as if she’d just had the most fun a person could have. He wanted to shake her for doing something so dangerous. When he’d seen her come up behind the robber, he’d just about died, literally feeling the blood drain from his head. He’d heard of such a thing but never felt it, not even in those terrible months in the War Between the States when he’d been just a kid.
And so, he took two strides to her, put his hands on her shoulders and did give her a little shake. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, right before pulling her hard into his arms and burying his face against her hair. She was trembling, but she clung to him as if what she’d done had just hit her. He pulled back to see if she was okay, to make sure he didn’t see terror in her eyes. He wasn’t even really aware of what he was doing when he bent his head and kissed her, hard and long and probably a bit too intimately, given they had quite an audience. When he raised his head, there she was, smiling up at him again.
“It worked,” she said, then laughed a bit shakily.
He stepped back, feeling a bit shaky himself, but for an entirely different reason. He’d thought they had an audience, but the passengers, their noses pressed to the windows, were watching as one by one the robbers—five of them—were caught. A collective cheer rose up when the conductor appeared to talk to the lawmen, who handed over heavy canvas bags of what Mitch guessed was gold.
Mitch grabbed Genny’s hand and pulled her back to their seats. He suddenly felt weak, and he wasn’t certain his legs could carry his weight much longer.
“You were wonderful, my dear,” Mrs. Walsh said, then turned to her husband, who looked a bit under the weather. “Wasn’t she wonderful? And you, too, Mr. Campbell. You were both so brave.”
Mitch nodded, but neither spoke. They sat there, still holding hands, and stared straight ahead for a long while.
“You kissed me.” This said when the train began moving to the cheers of the happy and relieved passengers.
“So I did.” He shifted away and dropped her hand. “Doesn’t mean anything. Just was glad you didn’t get yourself killed. Won’t happen again.”
“Okay.” And damned if those two little syllables weren’t filled with a trunkful of disappointment.
“Listen,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’m your escort. Just that. Okay?”
She was silent for a long time, her cheeks flushed. “I thought you were my friend, too.”
Friend. Hell, if it was up to him, they’d be far more than friends. But it wasn’t up to him. They had no future. None. “We are friends. I lost my head is all. I saw you do a dang foolish thing and then you were smiling as if it was nothing, as if you couldn’t have been killed, and I kissed you. That’s all.”
He wasn’t looking at her but he could tell from his peripheral vision that she was looking at him. “I liked the second kiss better than the first.”
He snapped his head around again and there she was smiling at him again. “You remember that, do you?”
She nodded, her eyes lowering to his mouth. Hell and damnation, if she kept looking at him like that he’d have to kiss her again. And he didn’t want to. Didn’t want things to get complicated. Didn’t like the way his gut was churning, and other parts of his body were reacting. Didn’t like that his heart was expanding in his chest.
“Well, you best get both out of your mind ’cause it’s not happening again.” He settled back into his seat and leaned against the window as if he were about to take a nap, which was highly unlikely given the adrenalin still coursing through his body and the carnal thoughts running through his mind.
“That’s too bad,” she said finally. “It was rather lovely.”
He ignored her, pretended to have fallen into a deep sleep. What the heck was he going to do with her? He’d never been one to fall for a girl. Sure, he’d had a few lady friends back in New York, but none had ever made him want to scream in frustration and pure joy the way Genny did. Surely there must be something annoying about her. He just had to figure it out and focus on that. Not her hair. It was soft and long and he liked the way it smelled. And she was pretty. So he couldn’t find fault with her appearance. She made him laugh, and her voice, with that cultured English accent, was soothing and gentle, like a spring rain. He nearly snorted aloud, then, which would have ruined his ruse of sleeping. She let out a sigh. Genny did tend to sigh. A lot. It was getting annoying. If he counted the number of sighs she let out, concentrated on that, he might not think about everything else that wasn’t annoying.
She sighed again and laid her head against his shoulder. Damn, that felt nice.
“Your head is too heavy on my shoulder.”
She immediately straightened. “Sorry. I’m just suddenly so sleepy. All the excitement, I suppose. You certainly seem tired.”
“Listen, Genevieve,” he whispered harshly so the other passengers wouldn’t hear him, “I’m taking you to England and dropping you off with your grandparents and I’ll never see you again. Understand? I’m not your husband and I’m not even your beau. I’m nothing but a man who got himself in a gnarly situation and is trying to figure out a solution. So I don’t need your little sighs and your pretty green eyes looking at me like, well, like you shouldn’t.�
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She looked confused and he suddenly had the urge to kiss her again, which made him so mad he had to get away. Or kiss her again. So he stood up and headed to the men’s washroom at the end of the car, leaving Genny behind, no doubt hurt and probably a bit angry.
He went to the basin and splashed cold water on his face, looking up and not recognizing the man he saw in the mirror. “Get a grip, man,” he told his reflection. He scrubbed his face dry, moving aside as another gentleman entered the small room.
“Your wife is the most daring woman I’ve ever seen, sir,” the man gushed. “Why, I thought we’d be robbed and killed for certain. Imagine, having the courage to wield a cane and pretend it was a gun.”
“She’s got more courage in her little finger than most men do in their entire body, that’s true,” Mitch said, feeling that ridiculous swelling in his heart again. Who knew he’d be so quick to go all soft over a woman?
“I thank you both. As do the other passengers.” The man held out his hand to Mitch, and the two men shook.
When Mitch went back to his seat, Genny had removed herself to the small parlor area, where she was talking to several other women. No doubt they were thanking her and reliving the events. No doubt they thought she was one hell of a woman.
And, damn, they’d be right.
Chapter 5
Genny’s actions were the talk of the train. As she sat there with the women of their car, visitors from other parts of the train came and listened to the story again and again. It seemed that the more times the story was told, the more heroic she became and Genny found herself trying to calm the women, to let them know the only reason she’d done what she’d done was because the outlaw had been holding a rifle on Mitch. Truthfully, she hadn’t given the other passengers a thought, a fact that now made her feel a bit guilty given the accolades she was receiving.
