by Jenna Kernan
She fell forward onto his chest, gasping. He stroked the tangle of her hair.
“Glorious. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than that,” he murmured in her ear.
She slid from him and nestled close to his side, dozing for a time. She woke when she felt the bed sag. Kate pushed the hair from her face and blinked.
Sam sat beside her on the bed, already shaved and dressed. He stood to strap on his black holster and pistol, then noticed her and smiled.
He leaned down to kiss her. “I’m off to get us some breakfast. Get dressed and meet me in the next coach.” He secured his hat and then seemed to remember something. “We’re going up the line to our sawmill today. We have to leave the compartment to reach it, so wear something you can ride in.”
With that he was off. Kate felt a creeping resentment. She’d just spent the most fabulous night of her life with Sam, but in the morning light he was already dictating what she should wear, when she would eat and where she would go. She was to be the ornament on his arm again today. It was a role she thought to play so easily, but her hatred of the task meddled with her intentions.
What did she expect? She had sold her independence for a necklace of gold. This man, like all men, was used to treating women like cattle, something to be tended and prodded and used.
But this time, she had not given over the bill of sale. The arrangement was temporary. As soon as she had word that her aunt had paid their debts, she would tell Mr. Pickett he could find someone else to dress up like a porcelain doll.
Kate again faced the challenge of dressing alone. The man seemed to have no notion of the complications such an arrangement entailed. Their agreement had specifically included servants, but thus far none had been provided. She was desperate for a lady’s maid and planned to speak to him about it.
In the meantime she laced the back of her corset and then used the front laces to cinch herself in.
The crisp white blouse and petticoats were simple to don, as was the riding habit. It was no more complicated than a jacket and skirts, except the skirts cut just to the ankle. As she stood before the glass, she studied the rich golden velvet of the habit and realized with chagrin that she looked as if she had dressed to match the bed curtains.
The train shuddered. Then the whistle shrieked and smoke billowed past the windows. A moment later the cars began to roll.
When she had regained her equilibrium, she lifted the hat that included a black lace train and veil, should she encounter insects. She secured the hat with her new pins and then gave herself one final inspection. She looked well kept.
She glared at her reflection and stormed toward the passage between the cars.
She found Sam waiting in the adjoining coach with his breakfast half-finished. It was very impolite to eat without her, but she remembered where he had been raised and held her tongue.
He did stand when he saw her and smiled broadly. “That color makes your hair look even redder.”
“It’s auburn, silly.”
He motioned to the place where she should sit and poured her coffee. She preferred tea. She had not noticed the servant beside the bar until he presented a gargantuan breakfast and then withdrew. The meal was better suited to a laborer than a lady wearing an overly tight corset. She ignored the bloody steak, beans and fried eggs, longing for a bit of toast and jam.
“I’ve got some appetite this morning,” said Sam as he finished everything on his plate and then downed his coffee in three long swallows. He glanced at her untouched meal. “What’s wrong?”
“I usually have a pot of tea in the morning. I’ll never fit into my new clothes if I eat that.”
“Oh, hmm. Tea, huh? Just tea?”
“With milk and sugar.”
“Hmm.” He was thoughtful a moment. “Well, I’ll see about tea with lunch. How’s that?”
“Lovely.”
“I’ve sent word ahead. Told them to pick you out a nice gentle mare.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. But despite my appearances, I cannot ride.”
“You…what?”
“I’ve never ridden a horse. But perhaps you thought that buying me a riding habit and then securing a mare would make an equestrian of me.”
He sat back in utter astonishment. Then a line formed between his eyebrows as he stared at her. Kate regretted her words as memories of Luke’s temper flashed in her mind like lightning. Sam reached for her and she pulled it back as fast as she could, bracing against the seat back.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Kate.”
She found she could breathe again. When she glanced up it was to find him staring, his expression more concern than fury. She lowered her head, ashamed at her ingratitude. She stared at the cup of coffee. “I apologize for being churlish.”
“This is about the tea, ain’t it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Then you lost me a ways back.”
Her sigh was cut short by the corset stays. “Sam, I have worked every day for nearly a year. And while it is true I cannot do just as I like much of the time, I do have a certain autonomy. I choose what I eat, for instance, and what I wear. In the summer I have toast, and in the winter I eat oatmeal in the mornings.”
Sam made a face. “I ain’t touched the stuff since I ran away.”
Of course an orphanage would serve such fare. She imagined it was not the lovely concoction she made.
“I make mine with brown sugar, nuts and raisins. It’s delicious.”
“Accept your word on that.” He rubbed his jaw. “You having trouble taking the bit, then. That it?” He rubbed his chin as he stared at her. “I recall a time when I got told when to sleep, eat, work. Never liked it, either.” He smiled.
“You’re not angry?”
“Put out, you might say. I never had a full-time woman. Kinda figured they were too much trouble.” He gave her a meaningful look and she felt her face heat. “You want your own say-so. But you’re mine for now and I have to see to your needs as best I can. That means sometimes you do what I tell you.”
She didn’t like it, but she nodded. “I understand.”
“So I’m telling you to eat something, ’cause it will be hours before we see anything else.”
She stared at her plate and decided the eggs were the least offensive. She ate half of the portion and then choked down some of the coffee.
“Was that so bad?” he asked.
She winced at the bitter taste in her mouth and he chuckled.
“I’ll get a wagon for you and a driver for today. Can’t guarantee a carriage once we reach the work camps. It’s pretty rough there. But we got lots of Chinese workers so I guess there’ll be plenty of tea.” He reached for her hand again and she did not try to deny him.
“I got a gift for you.”
Kate wondered if she could sell it, as well, and sat forward on her seat. “Really. I don’t deserve one after this morning.”
His gaze turned heated and her heart rate sped up. “But you do after last night.”
She blushed, but said nothing as he reached for the overcoat on the empty chair beside him. In a moment he drew out a large envelope.
Not jewelry, she realized with dismay, but then was thankful. If he had given her earrings to match the necklace he would be disconcerted not to see the set.
He handed it over and sat back to watch her open the gift. Inside she found a beautifully etched certificate for one hundred shares of the Union Pacific Railroad.
“You’re a shareholder now, Kate. You keep that a while. It’s bound to be worth a fortune someday.”
She had no idea what else she could do with it, so she’d likely follow his advice. She had already been extremely rude this morning, so she covered her disappointment, pressing the certificate to her heart as if it was something precious, instead of a finely decorated bit of paper.
“Oh, thank you, Sam! You are a generous man.” She stood to kiss him and he drew her onto his la
p.
“Hey,” he said. “Where’s the necklace?”
She bit her lip. Here was her second opportunity to admit she had left it behind with her aunt. Instead, she smiled at him.
“With a riding habit? Honestly, Sam, you know nothing about women’s fashions.”
She waited to see if he would let the matter pass. Luke most certainly would not have. He would have insisted she wear it and there would be hell to pay if she did not produce it.
Sam smiled at her. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Allen Crawford of the Pinkerton Detective Agency arrived in Cole’s office unexpectedly, but Cole showed him in immediately.
“Police found the other woman from the alley. She pulled the same stunt on a fellow down by the river and they grabbed her. I’m going to question her about Katherine Wells.”
Cole frowned. “You suspect something.”
“That’s what you pay me for. I’m not much for coincidences. Mrs. Wells has earned herself a lucrative spot beside a powerful man, due in large part to her timely arrival. It smells of a setup, not to rob Pickett, but to present Mrs. Wells to him in a nearly irresistible manner.”
“I’ll be damned.”
Chapter Fourteen
S am managed to find a small wagon with a mule and an Irishman to drive Kate to the building site. Sam sent his cartographers and surveyors ahead, escorted by three Pinkertons, with instructions to verify the potential new route. Although Sam had wanted to run the railroad straight through Broadner Pass, he was a realist. That meant taking the course with the most favorable grade.
Sam glanced back at Kate to find her sitting primly beside her driver. He was sorry he had spoiled their morning by simply ordering up two breakfasts. How did he know what a woman ate in the morning?
Sam wrestled with the balance between care and control. He’d never met a woman so touchy on the subject. The ladies he had known loved to be pampered and spoiled. Kate seemed to be cut from a different cloth. He liked it, but it confused him.
They reached the lower camp below the sawmill by midday. The afternoon was unseasonably warm and Kate looked flushed and about done in in her heavy velvets. He needed to push on and get to the mill to see about beefing up the security. He was about to tell her she’d wait here for his return when he hesitated.
“It’s another hour up to the mill by wagon. You want to come along or wait for me here?”
Kate paused a moment as she realized he was leaving the choice up to her. Beneath her jacket and shirt, a bead of sweat rolled down her back. She glanced about. This was a lovely place, with the river tamed by the dam so only a gentle stream danced past. The tall pines on the wide banks gave pleasant shade and the millpond above them made this former riverbed a new meadow already cloaked in wildflowers.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“Before supper.”
She glanced up the steep grade that held two switchbacks and then stared up at him. “I’ll wait, if it’s all right with you.”
He dismounted and assisted her down. “I’ll see you set up and then head off.”
“You go on. I can see to myself.”
He looked skeptical and then bit back his words. If she said she could do it, he’d let her go.
“Tell the men to set us up a tent and order something for dinner. I’ll be back before full dark.”
He kissed her and then remounted. Then he headed over to speak to John Potts, a foreman at the camps, who Sam had recruited from his mine. He trusted him and that was why he ordered him to stay back with Kate. She might like the illusion of autonomy, but when it came to brass tacks, a woman needed a protector, especially out here.
“Help her get organized, will you, John? And keep an eye on her.” Sam glanced at the man’s revolver.
Potts gave a nod of understanding, then he looked back at Kate. “I’ll take good care of her.”
“And get her a pot of tea.”
“Tea?”
“With milk and sugar.”
John scratched his head. “Sugar’s no problem, but where am I gonna get milk up here?”
“Just find some.”
“Okay, Chief.”
Sam waved at Kate and pressed his heels into his horse’s sides.
Kate watched him disappear after the others. He’d left her in charge of making camp. She smiled in satisfaction and then set to work organizing the gear they had carried from the train. In short order his assistant had erected the tent on a sturdy wood floor. The canvas sides were low, but the center was high enough to stand up in and the overlarge flooring made a porch of sorts. Here she stood as the carpet, chairs, table and cots were brought in and arranged to her orders. She didn’t fancy sleeping on a cot, but perhaps she could sleep on Sam again.
That thought made her smile. It felt wonderful to have something to do. About midafternoon, John Potts arrived with a steaming coffeepot.
“Oh, thank you, John, but I don’t drink coffee.”
“It’s gunpowder tea, according to the Chinaman I bought it off of.”
Kate clapped her hands in delight. An instant later she realized who must have arranged this.
“Mr. Pickett asked you for this. Didn’t he?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thought the milk would skin me, but I found some.” He was positively glowing with pride.
“You are an angel. Thank you, John.”
Kate sat at the table before the dented coffeepot whose base was black with soot. She glanced about.
“Where is the milk?” she asked John.
“I already added a can full of condensed milk to the pot.”
Kate’s hopes fell.
“Here’s the sugar.” Potts handed over a paper packet, neatly folded and tied with string, setting it beside the odd ceramic cup that stood only two inches high and had no handle.
Kate forced a smile.
“What a strange cup.”
“Got that from a Chinaman, too. He said that I shouldn’t put no milk in this tea, but Mr. Pickett said to find you milk, so I did.”
And had likely ruined the tea. Kate didn’t have the heart to tell him that as she poured herself a cup. The concoction was pale and vicious. Dark tea leaves appeared and disappeared like tiny frogs surfacing for air.
Potts leaned in. “Is that how it’s supposed to look?”
“Not precisely.” Kate removed her white gloves, setting them carefully upon the table. Then she lifted the squat ceramic cup and resisted the urge to hold her nose. She took a sip. Dreadful.
“Perfect,” she said, and beamed at him.
John turned scarlet and for a moment she thought he was choking, but he recovered himself.
“But perhaps, next time, I could add the milk to each cup.”
Potts’ eyes rounded as he considered this. She was quite certain he understood that he had done something wrong now. Some of his pride leaked away and he stood blinking at her like a large grizzly bear that she had slapped on the nose. She felt quite sorry for him and sorry for the lovely tea, ruined by canned milk.
He stammered. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you. And John, I certainly appreciate the tea.”
He grinned, showing a broken front tooth, and then backed away as if she was royalty.
Kate lifted the tea, holding it before her lips until he turned his back, and then she threw it off the porch.
She sat back in the folding chair, thinking her bottom would never recover from the jostling she had taken on the wagon ride. But here in the shade, she had a lovely view of the bubbling stream. Funny that there would be such huge boulders in such a small body of water. She glanced upstream but could see nothing of the dam or lumber mill.
All about her the green grass shared the meadow with pink and white lupine. The scene was so picturesque she wished she had her paint box, not that she could do it justice. She smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time today. Pity about the tea, though.
A booming sound rum
bled down the mountain, sending vibrations through her feet. She stood, wondering if a thundercloud had crept in behind her, but saw nothing but blue sky. Storms were sudden and violent in the mountains and she had no desire to soak her new riding outfit. Could it be behind the ridge?
If it were not a storm, what could have caused such a sound?
John appeared, craning his neck this way and that as he tried to locate the source. His unease was contagious. Kate reached for her reticule, slipping it over her wrist. She always felt better with her derringer at hand.
A moment later she thought she heard a low rumble, like an approaching train, but it did not abate. Instead, it grew louder and louder.
She glanced at Mr. Potts and found him looking upstream, his eye round with shock. Her heart jumped in her chest as she realized what the sound could mean.
Sam caught the Pinkertons as they headed up the final quarter mile of the lumber road. They were just discussing vulnerable points to the mill when the explosion shook them.
There was no mistaking the source as a blast of dynamite. Sam turned toward the dam and watched in horror as it fell away before the eruption of water.
“Kate!”
He wheeled his horse about.
“Mr. Pickett, you can’t go that way. We have to stay on the high ground.”
But he was already spurring his gelding and leaning low over his neck. He called back to them. “Go catch the bastards!”
The men took off at a gallop in the opposite direction. The cascade of water and debris roared down the narrow canyon, filling it with terrifying speed and then sloshing up and over the road like water over the lip of a washtub.
The horse was solid, continuing on at a gallop even when the water reached his hocks. Despite Sam’s speed, he could not match the river. It ricocheted down the canyon, ripping trees from the banks and dragging them into the rolling torrent of destruction.
And all of it was heading right at Kate.
It was John Potts who recognized first the meaning behind the sound. He grabbed Kate’s hand and dragged her off the raised platform. Somehow she kept her footing as they ran perpendicular to the stream.
