“I got a few I ain’t stripped yet. They’ll run you a nickel each.”
“I’ll take two, please.”
The man wrapped up the bones, took her coins, then looked pointedly at Sy.
“Wait for me,” Sy whispered as she headed for the door. “I need two bones as well. Same as hers. And give me about a pound of that summer sausage.” Sy pointed, glancing behind him to make sure Alexandra hadn’t taken off without him. “And a pound of the cheese there, and the same for the jerky.”
She stood to the side with her back to the customers who’d come in behind them. Sy paid for his purchases, opened the door for her, and followed her out.
“Walk with me?” He held out his arm, and she hesitated only a second before accepting. That was something, at least.
“But I need to stop by the telegraph office for Mr. White before it closes.”
They walked in that direction, and Sy sensed something simmering beneath the surface. Something other than his absence. He started to try to pry whatever it was out of her, then decided it was best to let it come of her own volition. Based on the tension he felt coming from her, he gave her about twenty paces, or until they reached the end of the street.
He managed to count to seven.
“Mr. White has asked me to go on the tour with the singers.”
“So they’re definitely going? That’s wonderful news.” He looked over. “Or do you not want to go?”
He sought her gaze, but she wouldn’t look at him.
“With how you feel about Fisk, Alexandra, and how close you and Ella are, I would’ve thought you’d be thrilled.”
“Sy . . .” She stopped and pulled her hand away. “Don’t you see? I’m terrified of getting on a train again! Even the thought all but paralyzes me.” She squeezed her eyes tight. “And yet I want to help. If I could somehow blink and be there from city to city, I would. But—” She shook her head.
The conflict within her was so evident, the tension so taut, he wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before that she’d been dealing with this. But what he realized most of all was that she was talking to him about this. No, she was practically yelling.
Which meant there was hope for them yet.
“Of course you’re frightened, Alexandra. After experiencing what you did—and I’ve only read about it; you’ve lived through it—it would concern me if you didn’t have second thoughts about traveling by rail again. When my train from Memphis returned the other night, and we passed that spot . . . I couldn’t help but feel something akin to a shiver pass through me, wondering at how quickly life can change. You’re sitting there, visiting, reading your paper, staring out the window, and then—”
“Your world turns upside down. And takes you with it.”
She stared at him for the longest time, and he would’ve sworn he saw a portion of her apprehension melt away.
“Thank you, Sy,” she whispered. “For understanding.”
He chose his words carefully. “Have you spoken with Mr. White about this yet?”
She nodded. “Earlier this afternoon.”
“And?”
She all but rolled her eyes, then gave him a look worthy of Mr. George White himself. “He said the kind of thing he always says. He said he understood why I felt as though I couldn’t go. And yet he questioned whether I understood the cost of deciding not to go.” She frowned. “You know how he is.”
Sy held back a smile. “But?”
“But I’m still scared! And I don’t see how I can do this. Yet how can I not? I’ll be letting everyone down.”
Tears rose in her eyes, and he fought the instinct to comfort her. “Tell you what . . . Some afternoon this next week, why don’t you and I spend some time on a train. Parked. In the train yard,” he added quickly. “Then I’ll ask Carson, our engineer, to take us for a little ride. A slow ride. Not far. On one of the tracks that circles the maintenance depot. And we’ll take it step by step from there. We can get together a time or two this next week, if you want. And then over the next month. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like you’re trying to get me to do something I don’t want to do without letting me see you do it.”
He smiled. This woman. “After we’re finished at the telegraph office, we’ll head back toward Fisk. Maybe pick up some barbecue on the way.”
She nodded.
“I’ve missed you, Alexandra,” he said softly.
She looked as though she might cry again. But she didn’t. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered, her tone almost begrudging. “Oh . . .” She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the flask. “I’ve been meaning to return this to you.”
Sy frowned. “But it was a gift. You don’t like it?”
“My liking it is of no consequence. As I told you before, it’s not an appropriate gift.”
“So . . . you do like it.”
“Sy.” She paused.
He stared.
“Please, just take it.”
He did as she asked and stuck the flask in his shirt pocket without another word.
She smiled, looking genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They continued on to the telegraph office.
“Did you discover anything on your trip to Memphis?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, no. But on my way back to Nashville I made an acquaintance on the train. All because of you, I might add. And your lesson on Southern Reciprocation.”
She laughed, and the sound of it, the pleasure that came with being in her company again, gave him a joy he would’ve been hard-pressed to put into words. He proceeded to tell her about meeting Philip Bliss.
“Then as we were getting off the train, I heard him humming a song. One that, as it turns out, he happened to write. I know the hymn because it was—” He caught himself, realizing he was about to share something about his father, something very personal. And he wasn’t at all certain how she would react, given the circumstances.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Because it was my father’s favorite.”
She stopped and looked up at him, the softness in her eyes a blend of understanding and uncertainty. “What’s the name of the hymn?”
He told her and she nodded, touching his arm.
“I know that song, Sy. ‘Let the Lower Lights be Burning,’” she repeated. “It’s beautiful. And the lyrics . . . so powerful.”
Grateful to her in a way she couldn’t know, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked on.
“In a twist of fate that I hope proves to be providential, Mr. Bliss knows a survivor from the accident and has agreed to contact her. To see if she’d be open to speaking with me.”
“That sounds promising.” She looked at him. “Was she on the No. 4 or the No. 1?”
“The No. 1,” he said softly, aware of her hand tightening on his arm.
He held open the door to the telegraph office for her. There was no line, so she walked directly to the counter.
“Mr. Rutledge?”
Sy looked over and saw the clerk who had helped him yesterday.
“We have two telegrams here for you, sir. We were just about to deliver them to the hotel.”
“Much appreciated.” Sy tore open the first envelope, read the brief message from his supplier, and felt his frustration from earlier in the day returning. A delay in shipment? This would mean another trip to Memphis to straighten things out. And if that didn’t work, to find a new supplier. And each day he delayed leaving meant the Belle Meade project was getting further and further behind.
He tore open the second envelope, saw Philip Bliss’s name at the top of the telegram, and hurried to read it.
Miss Glenn gravely ill Stop Time short Stop
“I hope it’s not bad news, Sy.”
He looked up and saw Alexandra’s concern. “It is, unfortunately. On two counts. A supply shipment that’s delayed on the Belle Meade project.
And a note from Mr. Bliss. The survivor I just told you about . . . She’s gravely ill. Bliss says the time is short.”
“So . . . you need to leave town again.”
The disappointment in her voice tugged at him. Especially after he’d promised only moments earlier to try to help her overcome her fear.
He tucked the telegrams into his pocket. “When is the tour scheduled to leave?”
“It’s all right, Sy. I know you’re busy. You have responsibilities and—”
“When, Alexandra?”
“The first week of October.”
He sighed. That gave them not quite a month, but he still hated to cancel his offer for this next week. If he put it off too long she might decide definitely not to go on the tour. But maybe there was another way. “Have you ever seen a Pullman Palace car?”
Chapter
TWENTY-FOUR
They reached the train station and made their way across the platforms toward the train yard. To Sy’s pleasure, Alexandra had reluctantly accepted his challenge back at the telegraph office, but with this clear understanding: she could change her mind at any time, back out on their agreement, and still get to see the newest Pullman Palace car—unhitched and sitting in the train yard.
She was good at negotiation, he’d give her that. But she was on his turf now.
He gave a whistle and heard a bark in the distance. Then braced himself. Duke bulleted around the corner of a passenger car, headed straight for him. Sy dropped his cloth sack and caught the hound midair.
“Hey there, boy!” Sy welcomed the dog’s affection, hearing Alexandra’s laughter. After a minute he set Duke down, and the dog promptly rolled onto his back. Sy gave his belly a good rub.
“For heaven’s sake, how long have you been gone?”
“Since about seven o’clock this morning.”
Alexandra shook her head. “What happens when you’ve really been gone? Say, for a week or more?”
“Then he really gets excited.”
Duke wriggled his way over to her and, laughing, she bent to scratch him behind the ears. “Who keeps him for you while you’re out of town?”
“Vinson. Who spoils him something crazy. Hence, I bring Duke these on occasion. So he won’t forget me.” Smiling, Sy grabbed the sack, unwrapped one of the bones, and tossed it to the dog, who caught it before it hit the ground.
“Hello, Boss!”
Sy looked up to see Vinson striding toward them.
Vinson nodded to Alexandra. “Miss Jamison. Good to see you again, ma’am.”
“You as well, Mr. Vinson. I hear from Mr. White that congratulations are in order.”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Come January, I’ll be sitting in your classroom. Ready to learn.”
“I’m already looking forward to it. Although I have a feeling you won’t be with me long. Mr. White says your test scores on the entrance exam were some of the highest they’ve seen.”
“Thank you, Miss Jamison. But maybe we should tell Mr. White to check those tests of his.” Vinson laughed. “Say, Boss . . . Carson’s finishing up with the maintenance on the No. 2 engine. Says she’s running like a dream now. And that new Pullman’s ready. Not hitched yet, but we’ll do that in the morning.”
“Good. That’s why we’re here. That, and maybe to take a little ride.” Sy shot Alexandra a look.
Which she shot right back. “Or maybe not. We’ll see.”
“Oh, you’re going to like that Pullman, Miss Jamison.” Vinson reached down and petted Duke. “She’s a beaut! No better way to travel than in a Pullman.”
Alexandra smiled, but Sy sensed she was already having second thoughts. Best move things along before she changed her mind.
“Vinson, you’re still headed in the direction of Fisk this evening, right?”
“Yes, sir, Boss. Got an errand to run over that way.”
Sy knew good and well the man had no errand to run. Unless a young woman by the name of Lettie could be considered an errand. “If you don’t mind, Miss Jamison has something that needs to be delivered to Mr. White for dinner, and it may be a little longer than that before we get over that way.”
“I’ll be glad to deliver it for you, Miss Jamison.” Vinson stepped forward.
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Vinson. Thank you.” She handed him the butcher sack.
“Boss, the Pullman’s back there on the No. 3 track.”
Sy nodded. “And, Vinson . . . I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Mr. White that Miss Jamison is with me and that I’ll bring her home directly.”
Sy took the long way to the back of the train yard. It was quieter, away from in-and outbound trains, and Alexandra wouldn’t have to climb over multiple couplers and navigate so many rails in her heeled boots.
He glanced back to make sure Duke was following, knowing that fresh bones could sometimes challenge the foxhound’s loyalty. But the dog was trotting behind them, bone clutched in his teeth.
“How is General Harding’s railway progressing, Sy? Delays in supplies notwithstanding.”
“It’s going well overall. We’ve already made good progress with the grading on both the railway and the road. And he’s pleased, which is saying a lot.” He slowed and held out a protective hand. “Watch your step through here. The gravel can be loose. And about seeing that new Pullman after our ride . . . Have you ever been inside a Palace car before?”
“I have. But not one of the newer models. In fact . . . I’ve met Mr. Pullman. He and my father are colleagues, of sorts. They’ve invested in projects together and served on various company boards. But that’s some years back now.”
They turned the corner, and Sy spotted Carson up ahead conversing with a worker near the locomotive. But no passenger car was attached as he’d thought it would be. He looked. No other passenger car on that switch rail either. “Wait here for me?” he asked.
At her nod, he ran up ahead and talked to Carson briefly, then returned. “Carson says our timing is perfect. Are you ready to do this?”
Alexandra shook her head no. “But . . . yes.”
He smiled and offered his hand. With a fleeting look up at him that said so much, she accepted and held on for all she was worth. He decided it was a feeling he could quickly become accustomed to.
He led her forward, hoping his instincts proved right. He could already see her determination faltering.
He leaned close. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. If you want to get off, we’ll get off. Even before we start moving.”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
But her death grip on his hand told a different story.
Sy gently coaxed her on. But when she spotted Carson standing beside the steps to the locomotive, engineer cap in hand, ready to greet them, she pulled away.
“You didn’t say we were riding in the engine!”
“I know. Because I thought there would be a passenger car attached. But, Alexandra . . . I think this is even better for you. Because riding in the engine of a train is unlike anything else. It’s where I first discovered, years ago, that I wanted to be a railroad man.”
“No!” She shook her head.
He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “This isn’t what we agreed on, I know. So if you want to turn around right now and go back to Fisk, we will. After seeing the Pullman, as promised.” He smiled. “But this will give you a different perspective. Something to replace the scene that’s been playing over and over in your mind for the last year. And riding in another passenger car won’t do that the way this will. Trust me. Please,” he whispered.
Her complexion decidedly more pale, she stared at the iron beast as if it might lunge for her at any moment. “I can’t.”
“And that’s the difference, Alexandra. I know you can.” He gently angled her face toward his. “If you don’t go on this tour, someone else will step up and do the job White has offered to you. But I think a time will come—maybe soon, maybe not until years from now—when you’ll look back and wis
h you’d done it. When you’ll realize the strength was right there with you all along. You just had to reach out for it.” He smiled. “Like Queen Esther.”
Her brow furrowed, and she narrowed her eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’m wishing right now, Sylas Rutledge. I’m wishing you’d never attended the concert that night.”
He laughed and caught a speck of humor in her expression too. That was swiftly extinguished.
“Welcome aboard, ma’am!” Carson called out over the churn of pistons and the roar of the smokebox.
Sy quickly climbed the steps, Duke bounding up beside him, and held out his hand to Alexandra. She looked up at him, eyes full of fear. And determination.
Alexandra stared at Sy’s hand reaching down to her and wanted to take hold of it, even as she wanted to turn and run from this place and never look back.
You must ask yourself . . . Is the Lord leading me to do this?
In the space of a breath, the events of the past year flitted before her mind’s eye. One year ago, she would never have been able to imagine that she would be a teacher at Fisk University. That God would have given her the courage to face the obstacles she’d faced, and that she would have found such purpose and meaning in her life after feeling so lost and without direction.
Acknowledging the answer to Mr. White’s question, she suddenly felt the tug-of-war inside her yank decisively one way, and she grabbed hold of Sy’s hand for all she was worth. He pulled her up beside him, and his arm came around her waist.
“Looks like we’re ready to ride, Carson!”
Chapter
TWENTY-FIVE
A week later and Alexandra could still feel the surge of power beneath her feet, the rumble of the engine as the train lurched forward. She’d been certain her legs would give way. But they hadn’t. Perhaps due in large part to Sy’s arm around her waist, holding her close, something else she could still feel. And that, in some ways, had proven more powerful than the locomotive.
“You’re doing great,” he’d yelled, his voice all but drowned out by the churn of the engine and the roar of the smokebox as the iron behemoth crept forward, then gradually gained steam. She’d held on to him and the train with a white-knuckled grip.
To Wager Her Heart Page 25
