He met Guthrie and came alongside Kate, reaching around her middle to assist.
"We'll make it, old boy!" he shouted.
Guthrie nodded. With Clarence's help, they jogged toward the trailing, rear-facing engine.
"Toss me up!" Kate cried.
Guthrie and Clarence exchanged doubtful looks.
"I can do this!" she reassured them.
"Very well." Guthrie looked over at Clarence. "On three."
They counted, keeping pace with the engine. Then they heaved her upward.
Seemingly in slow motion, she sailed through the air, her dress rippling, until her boots made contact with the steps, and she gripped the railing with both hands. Clarence whooped in triumph.
"Give me your hand, Walter!" She held out one arm and beckoned to Guthrie.
He nodded. His heart pounded fiercely, and he could tell that his body had not yet regained all of its strength. For a moment, this concerned him. But then he looked up at Kate, smiling down at him with her hand extended. His daughter. And he knew there was nothing that could ever keep him from her again.
With ease, he took a running leap and grasped her hand, landing on the step and gripping the rail to steady himself.
"Your turn, Master Clarence!" he called with a smile.
"Yes?" Clarence eyed the railing. "Quite."
Gritting his teeth with determination, he breathed a quick prayer and, without further hesitation, sprinted forward and lunged for the platform. His fingers curled around the railing, and he felt Kate and Guthrie's hands grab hold of his arms, but his legs—
"AAWWW!"
His feet slipped and he fell, boots flailing under the engine, fingers slipping from the rail. With all his might, he pulled, and his friends tugged at his arms, but there seemed to be a suction of air dragging at his legs as the train picked up speed. Slowly, an inch at a time, Guthrie hauled him upward, back to the railing, until he could regain his footing on the steps. Both Guthrie and Kate clung to him.
"Very good, sir," Guthrie said with relief. He wiped at his brow. "We made it."
They fell against the door to the vacant engine room and sat down, shoulder to shoulder, catching their breath and watching the town of Santa Fe disappear into the distance. Not one of them was really sad to see it go. As far as Guthrie was concerned, they were lucky to have escaped with their lives.
Chapter 53
That night found them seated in the passenger car with their luggage stowed nearby and with exhausted but content expressions on each of their faces. The car had filled up since the recent stop at Dumas, and most of these new arrivals were already fast asleep with their lamps unlit.
Clarence had the lamp near his seat turned down to a soft glow as Kate slept, her head on Guthrie's shoulder, her hand still clasping his. She was so beautiful in the low light, Clarence found it difficult to look away. Guthrie had not taken his eyes from her, either. His gaze, usually stoic, was now filled with the deepest of love. Clarence couldn't help but be stirred by it.
Guthrie did not concern himself with Kate's past. He had not mentioned it once, not even in passing. His love for her was unconditional, and he accepted her as she was. He hoped she would do the same.
"Wonderful, isn't it, old boy?" Clarence said.
"Yes, sir." Guthrie nodded. "I have found her." Tears shimmered in his eyes, and his jaw trembled slightly. "Finally."
Clarence swallowed. "I have to say…that I truly appreciate your sharing this experience with me, Guthrie. I've never known anything quite like it."
Guthrie met his gaze. "Of course, sir. There is no one else I would have rather shared it with."
Clarence grinned. "Thank you, dear fellow." Then he remembered something he'd meant to say earlier. "But I don't wish to presume upon you, old chap. I shan't stay with you in Boston any longer than—"
"I want you to stay with us, sir. That is, of course, unless you do not desire to do so."
"Oh I do want to!" Clarence countered. "We've been through so much together already, and I couldn't bear to be away from you both. It was just that—I know you'll need your time together to get reacquainted—or acquainted, as the case may be."
"Yes, we do, but I believe it may be difficult for us at first. We are both set in our own ways, accustomed to our lives without one another, and I believe it would do us good to have you there, sir, to…ease the tension." He almost smiled. "I know she will insist upon it. She has become quite taken with you."
Clarence could feel his ears growing warm. How did Guthrie always seem to know about everything? "If you insist, old boy." He grinned again.
Guthrie nodded. "I am glad you have enjoyed this trip, sir, as dangerous as it was."
"Oh yes, unquestionably. Quite a change of pace, indeed!" He could hardly bring himself to remember his old life in Hampshire. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "It has been truly incredible." He paused, unable to put into words how much he felt his world had changed in the past few days. "I only wish that I'd done something like this sooner," he said at last.
Guthrie gently rested his head against Kate's. "As do I, sir."
With Guthrie, Kate, and everyone else asleep in the passenger car, Clarence alone remained awake. The only sound besides the rhythm of the track below and the sighs and snores all around him was that of his dip pen, scratching across the pages in the back of his father's journal…
And so my adventures conclude in the American West. These have been experiences I shall never forget in all my life. I do not believe I could ever forget them, even if I tried—unless I am to become senile at some point. Regardless, I do wonder at times if they really happened; these past few days have been so spectacular, almost to the point of defying description. But all I must do is look at Guthrie and Kate, and all doubts vanish. Yes, what happened to me was fantastic, indeed. And it really happened, for all of us.
We—Guthrie, Kate, and I—plan to live together in Boston, Massachusetts. I may have to put my education on hold for a time. Considering this, perhaps my adventures in America have only just begun.
Clarence paused. His last sentence seemed to be a good one to finish what he'd written in the journal thus far. But there were a good many blank pages left. He considered filling them with sketches, but then decided against it, closing the tattered book. If indeed there were more adventures to be had while in America, he would need these pages to document them.
As he yawned and carefully placed the journal back into the valise, he relished the thought of a good night's sleep. He couldn't recall the last time he'd slept through the night recently, and he knew it would do him good.
But then he came across the letter he'd neglected to send to his mother.
"Good heavens!" he gasped.
Quickly he added a line at the bottom of the page, explaining that he'd been very busy—leaving out, of course, any details about a certain lynch mob or abduction by savages or the skinning of a certain gunslinger—and that once he was in Boston, he would write her every day.
"There," he sighed, sliding the letter into a fresh envelope and returning it to the valise. "That should satisfy the old girl."
As the train clattered along and the car swayed gently, he turned down the lamp in their compartment until the flame disappeared. Then he sat back in his seat to stare up at the dark ceiling.
It must have made quite a commotion back in Hampshire when Guthrie and I disappeared. No doubt Mother has been hounded by the gossip columnists ever since! He chuckled softly to himself. About time for the Edwards clan to be stirred up a bit. It probably did them all quite a lot of good.
He nodded to himself and closed his eyes, nestling down in the padded leather seat. With the train rocking him, he was asleep in no time at all, dreaming vivid scenes from the last few days that made him smile with delight. He dreamed of his adventures, his good times with Guthrie, his tender moments with Kate, of the variety of people he'd met along the way. He also dreamed of his new life in America that was yet to come. A ma
rvelous life it would be, he knew, for he would be sharing it with two people he loved.
"Yes, quite," he mumbled. "Good show!"
About the Author:
Milo James Fowler is a teacher by day and a speculative fictioneer by night. When he's not grading papers, he's imagining what the world might be like in a dozen alternate realities. Over the past 5 years, his short fiction has appeared in more than 100 publications, including AE Science Fiction, Cosmos, Daily Science Fiction, Nature, Shimmer, and the Wastelands 2 anthology. Two novels and a variety of short story collections are now available.
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Westward, Tally Ho! Page 21
