by Tonia Brown
“I’m sure you weren’t.” Dodger spotted the ghost lingering around the last of the caged holds. “What are you doing hanging around here anyway?”
“Nothing special. Sometimes I just come here to think. I used to go to my room—I mean your room. But I can’t use that place anymore.”
“No, I reckon you can’t. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It isn’t your fault I’m dead. It’s my fault. My stupid fault.”
Dodger moved closer to the ghost, making note of the long look on the specter’s face. “Boon? What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“I thought you couldn’t lie.”
“I can’t.”
Dodger thought about this for a moment. “Then if it isn’t anything particular, what combination of things is bothering you?”
The ghost sighed. The sound was cold and hollow. A worrisome groan straight from the grave.
Let the ghost sulk. Dodger wasn’t in the mood to take on someone else’s worries anyway. “If you’ve got some time on your hands, would you mind telling me more about the train? I just realized I haven’t had a chance to really admire her.”
“I’ll tell you what I know,” Boon said. “But as I explained, a tour hosted by the doc would serve you better. I was never quite clever enough to grasp all of it.”
“I think you underestimate yourself. You were smart enough to draft the designs for your guns. I would never even have imagined such a thing.”
Boon’s mood brightened at this. “Is that what you really think?”
“I do.”
“Then I’m at your service. Ask away.”
Dodger rapped his knuckles on the coal bin. A hollow metal ring filled the cab’s still air. “For starters, why is it so quiet in here? Or, for that matter, why is it so quiet in the engine cab? I’ve run lines most of my life, and I’ve never been in a cab where you didn’t have to shout at the top of your lungs to be heard over the chuff and grind of her engine.”
“The professor said it played upon the principles of sound dampening. Apparently, the entire body of the train is lined with cotton batting and other sound-muffling agents, and the framework is shot through with a system of what he calls ‘resonation chambers.’ He showed them to me once, and they look remarkably like worm-eaten wood. But it’s my understanding that these chambers gather sounds and divert them, much in the manner of an exhaust system on a steam engine.”
“I see.”
“Lucky for you. It took me almost a year to wrap my head around the idea.”
“I mean I get the gist of it. Not that I understand it all.” Dodger rapped the coal bin again. “What about the fuel?”
“What about it?”
“It doesn’t take a genius to realize we haven’t stopped for coal at all in the two weeks I’ve been aboard. Water, yes, but not fuel. Based on my previous experience with the hungry nature of steam boilers, either there is a larger coal hopper hidden somewhere, or the fuel is as special as the rest of the train.”
Boon stared at Dodger with wide wonder. “You deduced that on your own?”
“No so much a deduction as a glaring fact. Easy enough when you think about it.”
“Easy? In all the years I worked for the doc, I never thought to ask about such things. It never even occurred to me. I left the specifics of the train to Ched and the doc. But you … you seem to know everything.”
“Not everything.” Dodger didn’t like where this was going. The last thing he wanted was to be mistaken for a clever man. Ignorance was bliss, and that went double for other folks thinking you were dumb. When folks thought you were dumb, they left you alone. “If I knew everything, I wouldn’t have to ask. I’m just curious; that’s all.”
“Right. Just curious.” Boon looked doubtful. “I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to the professor about the fuel. I don’t know anything about it. Sorry.”
“No worries.” Dodger moved into the next car with the spirit on his heels. He glanced around the dim meeting car, searching for something to take the ghost’s mind off the subject of Dodger’s unusual intellect.
“Mr. Dodger?” Lelanea asked from the far end of the cab.
At the sound of her words, the ghost dissipated from the room. This wasn’t unusual. Whenever the lovely Lelanea arrived, Boon did his best to flee the scene. This time, Dodger was glad Boon had vanished, because as soon as he laid eyes on the woman, he couldn’t help but let out a little whimper of desire.
Lelanea was a vision of beauty in white.
Normally she dressed in the manner of a male, all breeches and boots, but the woman making her way down the cab toward Dodger wore a lacy white dressing gown. On any other woman in the world, the gown would’ve seemed a plain, simple affair—a full-length, high-collar, to-the-wrist asexual gown of a nondescript nature. But on Lelanea, the gown was as suggestive as a sheer negligee. On her, it was sexier than the naughtiest nightie any single female at the Desert Rose sported. Something about the way she carried it off left her even more desirable than if she had been naked. It showed nothing, yet promised everything.
Just like the woman who wore it.
“Miss Lelanea,” Dodger said as he met her mid-cab. He swallowed to keep the drool from running free. “What keeps you up so late?”
“Once again, I find myself searching for you,” she said.
Dodger couldn’t help but smirk.
“And you can wipe that smile off your face,” she added, though Dodger took note that she, too, was trying hard not to grin. “I only wanted to give you this.” Lelanea held out a small bottle. She waggled it at him until he accepted it.
Dodger took it from her, turning the brown glass vial about in his hands. The top was held closed by a rubber stopper with a bulb at the end. “What is it?”
“Your sleep aid. Uncle mentioned that we were going to Hollis because he had a sudden pressing need for melatonin. It wasn’t until I was almost in bed when I remembered I had some of my own. It didn’t take long for me to finish what he started. I’m sorry I didn’t remember it until just now.”
“You made this for me?”
“Of course.” She reached up to brush a stray hair from his eyes. “I hate to think you’re suffering unnecessarily.”
“Then it’s all right as long as my suffering is of necessity?”
Lelanea flashed him an angry frown. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Dodger popped the rubber cork from the bottle, pulling out a dropper. Ah, now the bulb made much more sense. “Liquid?”
“I know Uncle told you the dosage would be a pill, but I thought sublingual drops would work faster.”
“I appreciate expediency. How do I …?”
“Here, let me.” Lelanea took the bottle from him and drew a dropperful of the viscous liquid inside. “Open your mouth and raise your tongue.”
Dodger did as asked, and Lelanea moved in close to administer a few drops under his tongue. Using the cover of her ministrations, Dodger snuck a peek down her loosened collar and shuddered at the bloom of red lace that lay bunched at the swell of her bosom. He didn’t need the sleep aid anymore. He reckoned the idea of her wearing nothing but those red undies was enough to send him to some very pleasant dreams. Once his mouth was closed, and the dosage was done, he couldn’t help but groan in appreciation of both medicine and nurse.
“What was that for?” she asked as she backed away from him.
“Nothing,” he lied. “I think this lack of sleep has made me giddy.”
“Then go to bed. Now. Before you say something stupid.”
“Yes, ma’am. Care to join me?”
“Like that.” She poked him in the chest with the bottle at each word as she commanded, “Go. To. Bed. Now. Alone.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dodger clutched the bottle in his fist as he stepped past her. Before he reached the door, he turned to look at her again, a sudden idea taking him. “Miss Lelanea?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks
for what you did today. With Duncan.”
“You’re welcome, but I didn’t really do anything. I just gave him a shoulder to cry on.”
“You offered him more than just a shoulder. Anyone with eyes could see you shared his grief.”
Lelanea dropped her gaze to the floor and chewed her lip.
“That must’ve been very difficult to do,” Dodger said. “I just wanted to thank you for it.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
Dodger stared at her for a few moments in silence. She was a fine woman, a sexy brunette with a body that could make a dead man stand to attention and an intellect that drove him even madder with desire for her. (He’d always had a thing for smart women. Perhaps, like so many men, he really just wanted to marry his mother.)
Lelanea Dittmeyer was the kind of lady Dodger had sought his whole life.
But she was also a woman wrapped in a wreath of mourning. A young lady so steeped in sorrow it all but dripped off of her in great swells of sadness. Even if he could work up the courage to pursue her, she could never be his, because she belonged to someone else. She was a weeping widow—with or without a wedding.
“You loved him,” Dodger said. “Didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?” Lelanea asked.
Dodger knew he would regret it in the morning, but he couldn’t help it. His mouth seemed to take on a will of its own. “I guess it might be the lack of sleep that’s loosened my tongue. You know I never would ask you such a thing otherwise. But … well … now that the subject has been broached, we might as well go all the way. No need to half-ass it. We’re adults, so let’s talk like adults. Did you love him? Washington Boon, I mean.”
“I told you he was just a good-”
“He wasn’t just a good friend. He was more than that to you. Wasn’t he?”
She pursed her lips into thin white lines of frustration. Dodger winced, bracing himself for the oncoming tirade of insults and obscenities. But instead of launching a verbal assault, she sighed and sat on one of the meeting car’s many couches. There, she pulled her knees to her, withdrawing inside her long gown like a little girl trying to hide from the world.
Dodger thought he heard the sounds of weeping, or at the very least, the choked strains of someone fighting tears.
“Miss Lelanea?” Dodger asked, sitting beside her at a respectable distance of a few cushions. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“No,” she whispered into the collar of her gown. “You’re right. I do love him.”
“And he loved you.” Not a question. Dodger knew the truth of it as he knew his own name. Why else would the spirit avoid her whenever possible?
She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to his, seemingly asking him how he could possibly know that.
“How could he not?” Dodger asked with a smile. “You’re quite a woman. He’d be foolish not to fall in love with you. I reckon it might be a hard thing for a fellow to avoid.”
“Thank you,” Lelanea said.
“I only speak the truth.”
“You know, you remind me of him from time to time. Don’t get me wrong. You two are nothing alike, but there is something about you that makes me think of him. Whenever I see you, when you’re near, it’s like I can almost feel Wash in the room. Like I could just reach out and touch him.” She laughed softly as she lowered her legs to the floor. “You probably think that’s silly.”
“Not at all. I’m honored to know I remind you of him. I hear he was quite a wonderful man. In fact, I hear it all the time. Over and over and over.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dodger. I didn’t mean-”
“Dodger,” he said over her. “I’m just plain old Dodger to my friends. I’d like to think we are friends.”
Lelanea smiled, just a bit. “We most certainly are, Dodger. And I promise to talk to Ched and Uncle about this endless comparison between you and Wash. It isn’t fair to make you feel like some sort of substitute.”
“I don’t mind. Really. He was part of your family, and you folks all still have a fair bit of grieving to do. I just want you to know I’m not here to replace him. I wouldn’t even dream of trying.”
“We know that. At least, I do.” She lowered her eyes, looking to the hem of her gown as it fluttered over her delicate ankles. “It’s just hard on us, because we never got to say goodbye. He was there one moment and gone the next. Just gone.”
“I know what you mean.”
“There was no closure for us. None. We held a service, but it was hard without a corpse to mourn over. Nothing to bury. No plot to visit or urn to keep. And then-”
“What do you mean without a corpse?”
She looked back up, meeting his eyes with hers. “Didn’t you know? Washington Boon’s body vanished.”
“Vanished?” Dodger asked. “You mean it was never found?”
“No, it was found. Then it was lost.”
“How?”
“I’m surprised Ched hasn’t told you all of this.”
“Not a word. ‘Course, I guess I never asked.” Dodger sensed they were moving into uncomfortable territory for the young lady. “If you’d rather not talk about it-”
“No, I don’t mind. I can tell it just as well as he can. Probably better.” She drew a deep breath to steady herself, then began. “The whole thing happened in a little town named Celina, just outside of Texas. Boon went in alone and unarmed to buy some supplies. Normally, he would take Ched, but he said he needed some time alone. Well, that alone time cost him his life. He was ambushed by thugs, and they beat him to death right there in the streets of Celina.”
“Right out in the open?”
“Yes.”
“And no one saw it?”
“Are you kidding? Half the bloody town witnessed it, but no one put up a fight for him. No one helped him. They were scared of Boon, but even more so of anyone who would dare take the man on in a fight.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
“What I don’t understand is what he could’ve been thinking. He shouldn’t have been there alone or unarmed. It’s like he was asking for something like this to happen.”
“How does this end with the disappearance of his corpse?”
“Their pitiful excuse for a lawman came to the line to tell us what happened. I rode into town with Ched to identify the remains. When we arrived, the undertaker claimed someone broke into his studio and stole Washington’s dead body.”
Dodger snarled in revulsion. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know. Uncle has many enemies, and as a result, so did Boon. I don’t like to think about it too much.” She shuddered at the thought. “There is no telling what happened to his corpse. It’s best not to dwell on it.”
Dodger would rather not dwell on it, not just because he hated to think about the death of the man, but also because the enemies of his friend were also his enemies. In other words, the same men who jumped Boon were liable to do the same to Dodger. God help ‘em if they did! Yet, something about her descriptions of the events just didn’t add up in his mind. Something seemed a little bit off.
Dodger cleared his throat and said, “I hate to seem disrespectful, ma’am. But if none of you saw his remains, then, well, how are you all so sure he’s passed on? The word of a town full of cowards is a fine thing, I suppose, but …” He let his words trail off, allowing Lelanea to fill in the blanks of his implications.
“Because I know he’s dead,” she said. “I can feel it, here.” She laid her hand over her left breast, just above her aching heart.
It was best to never question female intuition. He nodded instead, agreeing with her assessment of Boon’s mortal demise. It wasn’t as if she was wrong. No. It was just … something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Lelanea lowered her gaze again before she added, “And I saw him.”
“His body?” Dodger asked.
“His spirit.”
“When?”
“About a mont
h after he passed away. When we came back emptyhanded, I took it really hard, but Uncle was so strong. He arranged a small memorial service. He got us back on our delivery routes. It was even his idea to keep Boon’s death a secret, so we wouldn’t open ourselves to attack. But one night a few weeks later, he snapped and just went mad. He commanded Ched to pull over, and he proceeded to throw everything he ever worked on with Boon off the train. Then he set fire to the whole mess right there under the stars.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“It was. Everything they had worked so hard on destroyed in one act of angry remorse. Uncle loved Boon like a son. He really did. We all loved him, in our own ways.”
“I can tell. He was a lucky man.”
“But to watch the remains of his life just go up in smoke like that? It broke my heart. I begged him to stop, but Uncle was inconsolable. He said it all had to go. Everything that reminded him of Boon had to be destroyed. I think he was just mad at himself for letting Boon die.”
All at once, the image of Lelanea cradling the doc filled Dodger’s mind, the pair brought to their knees by their shared grief before a blazing bonfire of burning memories.
“Surely he knew it wasn’t his fault?” Dodger asked in a whisper.
Lelanea ignored him as she pressed on with her story. “Uncle went after Boon’s quarters, so he could burn the rest of it. I volunteered to empty it instead, so I could at least rescue a few small things.” She motioned to Boon’s guns slung about Dodger’s hips. “I thought I’d find those, but it turned out Ched hid them from both of us when the burning started.”
“But you found something else.”
“I found him.” She turned her eyes to the distance, the memories taking her attention as she described what she saw that fateful night. “He was sitting on his bed—your bed now—staring out the window, watching us set fire to his whole life. He was weeping. I could hear him crying. I could see his tears in the firelight.” Lelanea glanced at Dodger. “You don’t understand how powerful that was, because I had never seen the man shed a tear in all the time I knew him. He was tenderhearted as a person could be, but he never wept openly. Never.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No. He didn’t. I was so shocked to see him there that I gasped his name aloud. He must’ve heard me, because he turned to face me. His eyes went wide, like he was just as surprised to see me, and, well, he disappeared. Not a word. Not a smile. Just that look of sudden surprise, and I haven’t seen him since.”
