Abby cringed at the sound of gunfire. Her nice, safe existence in Boston hadn’t prepared her for this type of life. Neither had any readings of all those feminists. Listening to speeches about women’s suffrage didn’t quite equate with learning self-protection against guns and killers.
She looked around the small kitchen for a weapon, but running footsteps caught her attention. At first she thought it might be Max returning, but the noise came from the roof. She held her breath, her gaze following the sound as it traveled the length of the Pullman car. Suddenly it stopped, but a thud followed by breaking glass galvanized her into action. In her panic to hide, she dropped the tiny horse on the floor and bent quickly to retrieve it.
Rough voices froze her in place.
“How come such a fancy train car ain’t got no people in it?”
“Shut up. We ain’t looking for people. We’re looking for money and stuff worth stealing. And make it quick. Those gunshots mean trouble. If’n the others is gone, we’ll be on our own to find a hiding place.”
Abby tucked herself into the corner between the cabinet and the wall. She prayed the white of her robe wouldn’t show in the dark. The voices were in the corridor directly outside the doorway, and she only hoped they found what they wanted and left without discovering her.
“Don’t have to worry none ’bout hiding in Carson. Ol’ Dawson and Parks ain’t going to turn us in.” A man laughed crudely, and Abby tightened her grip on the skillet she’d grabbed at the last minute to use for a weapon.
“Well, looky here what I found.” A greasy-haired man leaned over the corner of the cabinet and stared right at her. His mouth split in a lewd grin, revealing gaps where his teeth should have been.
“Whatcha got?” Another man poked his head around the first man’s shoulder. “Wow!”
The man reached for her. She shrank back.
“I can stand by myself, thank you very much.” She tried to sound brave, even though she really didn’t know if her legs would support her. She trembled from head to toe, but was determined not to let these two robbers know that. Hiding her hands and the skillet in the folds of her robe, she forced her shaky legs to push her upward.
Once standing, she glared defiantly at the two men.
“Whatcha hiding, missy?” The second man pushed the first aside and stepped forward, grabbing her arm. She wouldn’t have a chance against his strength. The only way she would get away was to trick him.
She brought one hand forward and lifted it toward the light. Turning it over, she opened her fingers to reveal the tiny medicine horse. The man took another step forward and bent his head to look.
Abby didn’t hesitate. She swung her other arm with all her might. The skillet hit the man in the side of the head with a loud thud.
The force of the impact sent him staggering backward into the other robber. In a tangle of arms and legs, they stumbled into the corridor. The man she’d hit slumped to the floor.
“Why, you bitch!” the remaining man yelled, raising his hand and leveling his gun at her.
A gun blast resounded in the small space, and Abby screamed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. It took a few seconds for her to realize she hadn’t been shot.
She heard gruff swearing and several thuds, then a hand touched her arm. Her eyes flew open as she swung the skillet again, realizing too late it was Max standing in front of her. Luckily, his reflexes were quick, and he grabbed her wrist in one hand, gently prying the skillet from her clutched fingers.
“Are you hurt?” He gathered her in his arms. She shuddered, the fear leaving her body when his warmth surrounded her.
Muffled voices came from the corridor, and she stiffened.
“It’s all right,” he soothed. She tried to see around him, but he tucked her face into his neck. “Don’t look. The men will take them out of here.” She felt him nod, giving silent directions to some train employees who had followed him into the Pullman.
Max continued to hold her close, rubbing her back and murmuring soft words into her hair. She understood little of what he said. She raised her hand to his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing and the beat of his heart reassuring.
Gradually, her own breathing returned to normal, but she didn’t want to leave the safe cocoon of his arms. She opened one eye to see brown skin and the pulse point at his throat. She kissed it.
She nipped his skin and kissed it again, loving the way his muscles corded tightly beneath her lips. She kissed a trail up his neck, standing on tiptoes to nibble on his earlobe.
“Max?” She breathed his name in his ear and his arms tightened around her. “Thank you.”
“I thought—” He started then stopped and cleared his throat. “Jesus, I thought he was going to shoot you.” Now he began kissing her, his lips hot on her temple. She turned her head and found his mouth, giving herself over to his care.
“Excuse me, Mr. Grant.” A man’s voice cut through the sensuous fog surrounding her. Max groaned before he released her, turning around and shielding her with his body.
“This one has a lump on his noggin but isn’t dead. What should we do with him?”
“Put him with the others. I think Brinkenhoff plans to drop the whole lot of them off in Carson with Constable Parks. Maybe he can get them to talk.”
Abby had been standing quietly with her head resting against Max’s back, content not to look at the two men who had tried to accost her. At the mention of the name Parks, however, she tugged on his shirtsleeve.
He continued giving instructions to the men and didn’t answer her. Instead, he drew her hand around his waist and pinned it against his belly. He entwined their fingers and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, all the while talking to those men as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Abby found his attitude unnatural. His touch was having an extraordinary effect on her insides. Her breathing had quickened and her heart thumped.
The men left, taking the two robbers with them. Only then did Max turn back to her.
“You did very well tonight. You didn’t lose your head and you managed to disable one of the robbers.” The intensity of his gaze made her forget what she had been about to tell him.
“Kate Nye-Starr does say whatever you endeavor to do, make it done well.”
“I see. Then that makes at least two things you do well.”
“Two? What’s the other?”
“This.” Max’s mouth came down on hers, hot and bold and searching. His tongue traced her lips, tantalizing her senses until she opened for him.
He turned and leaned against the cabinet, bringing her with him. She stepped between his outstretched legs, wiggling closer. He groaned. He may have acted unaffected earlier, but there was a definite connection between them. The way he kissed told her he cared. She didn’t think a body could pretend something like that.
The train jolted into motion, breaking the moment. Max lifted his lips from hers and rested his chin on her head.
“We can’t keep doing this, you know.” He made the statement, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Why? I’m an independent woman, and I enjoy kissing you.” She tilted her head upward, making him move his own. She found his eyes glittering with humor.
“You enjoy kissing me? That almost makes me feel like you’re taking advantage of me.”
She stepped away. “I would never ill-use you, Max. You saved my life.”
“That’s my job.”
“What about the kisses?”
Max grinned wolfishly. “That’s my pleasure.”
Chapter Seven
Abby followed Max into the dining area, a delightful tickle in her stomach over his comment.
A porter waited patiently at the door to be let in.
“We’ll be stopping at Kit Carson before long, Mr. Grant, but I thought you could probably use some breakfast and coffee, seeing as the night is almost gone.” He deposited a large tray on the table and began removing the cover
ed platters.
Abby looked outside, amazed that the sky was getting lighter. She didn’t remember the last time she’d witnessed a sunrise. Of course, since meeting Max, there were myriad things to write in a journal that she’d never thought to do.
The smell of coffee brought her to the table.
“By the way,” the porter said, turning at the door, “we’ll be dropping off the robbers in Carson.” He grinned at her. “Everybody’s talking about how you beaned one of them good, miss.”
Mention of the robbers caused Abby to recall the men’s conversation while they’d searched the Pullman.
“Who did you say the constable was in Carson?” she asked Max.
“George Parks. Why?” he asked around a mouthful of eggs.
She furrowed her brow in concentration, recalling the names the two had spoken. “Is there also a man named Dawson in this town?”
Max stopped, the fork halfway to his mouth, and gave her a funny look. “The local justice of the peace is Jim Dawson. How do you know that?”
“When the gunfire started, one of the men said it meant trouble, and if they didn’t hurry, the boss would leave them. But the other said it wouldn’t make any difference since ‘Dawson and Parks’ wouldn’t turn them in.”
“Damn. No wonder we haven’t been able to catch this gang.”
Abby sipped her coffee. “You mean this has happened before?”
Max nodded. “Organized train robberies have been affecting the Kansas Pacific for some time. This particular gang always hits near Kit Carson, stealing the freight off an entire train. If the local justice of the peace and constable are in on it, that’s why they never get caught. It’s one way to easily hide a whole trainload of freight.”
“You said we, and earlier, you said you were doing your job when you chased after the robbers. Do you work for the Kansas Pacific?”
“No, but I do have stock in the railroad. I have to protect my interests.”
“Speaking of protection…” She pulled the miniature horse from the pocket of her robe. “Do you believe in magic?”
He shook his head. “I’ve learned to rely on my instincts. Magic and luck might desert me just when I need them.”
She slid the tiny horse in his direction. He looked at it curiously.
“Crede gave me that just before we left First View. He said it would protect me.”
He shrugged. “I don’t negate others’ beliefs, but that doesn’t mean that I have to accept them as my own. Besides, what does a tiny carving have to do with train robbers?”
“I had the medicine horse in my hand when the robbers caught me in the kitchen. I opened my hand to show it to one of them as a distraction. When he looked at this,” she pointed to the horse, “I hit him with the skillet I had in my other hand.”
“Clever.”
“Max, that horse saved my life.”
He scowled at her. “I thought you said I saved your life.”
She thought he sounded rather cute, pouting like a small boy. “Yes, you have, more than once. But I still say it’s magic.”
He ignored her comment and got up from the table. “I need to talk to Brinkenhoff. If what you say about Parks is true, we can’t drop the prisoners in Kit Carson. We’ll have to take them into Denver.” He pulled on his coat. Dark circles etched his eyes, his hair was ruffled and his shirt wrinkled. He hadn’t slept all night.
“Can’t it wait until you get some sleep?”
“We’ll be in Carson any time now. Billy Hamilton’s putting on the steam because of the delay.” He ran his fingers through his hair, but it did little to straighten it. “I’ll be back soon.”
He came around the table and reached out to caress her cheek. “You were quite brave today. I’m only sorry I put you in a position to have to prove it.”
Sometimes she just didn’t understand why he took the burden of the world onto his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault the train got robbed.”
“But the fact that you’re on this train is,” he returned.
“That was my choice to make, not yours.”
“You’re something else, Abigail O’Brien,” he said, shaking his head. “Try to get some sleep.”
* * *
Max found Brinkenhoff in the caboose and took the mug of coffee the man offered. Once Max explained what Abby had told him, Brinkenhoff was quick to agree with his plan to take the men to Denver.
“In fact, since some of the robbers got away, we’d best be on the lookout for trouble if they get to town before this train does,” the conductor stated.
Max shook his head. “I doubt they’ll head to town. They must have some place in the vicinity to hide all that freight.”
“Yeah, and apparently no one who sees them lifts a finger to stop them.”
“I’m sure Dawson and Parks knew a robbery was planned. While it’ll surprise them when we arrive on time and with most of the freight still on board, neither will dare ask too many questions. It would give away their involvement.”
Brinkenhoff poured more coffee from the pot that sat on the small stove. “I’d like to know how they decide which trains to rob.” He gestured to Max, but he declined, standing instead. He stuck out his hand.
“I appreciate all your help, Mr. Grant. I know you’re not a Kansas Pacific employee, and I sure hate to have you put out like this.”
“Besides my own safety and that of Miss O’Brien, I have a stake in this railroad as well. Let’s see if we can’t get her to Denver without any more problems.” Max said good-bye and stepped onto the divider between the caboose and the main train.
He breathed in the cool morning air, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. It had been a long night, and it wasn’t over yet. They’d have to be alert during the stop at Kit Carson. Only later would he relax for what remained of the trip to Denver.
He let himself back into his car. The breakfast dishes were still on the table, but Abby was nowhere in sight. He found her curled up in bed, sound asleep. Her arms were wrapped around a pillow. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was the one he used each night when sleeping on the bunk in the other room.
He sat on the edge of the bed. Her arm, muscles relaxed in sleep, slid from the pillow to come to rest on his leg. Her fingers opened slightly to reveal the tiny horse nestled in her palm.
He took the medicine horse and laid it on the table by the bed. She had been holding it tightly enough that it left marks on her palm. He softly rubbed the red lines, smoothing her skin beneath his rough thumb. She sighed in her sleep.
Her hair spilled over the pillows and he lifted strands to his face, rubbing the silky threads against his cheek. It dawned on him that this woman was more precious than anything he’d ever dreamed of wanting. Fatigue stole over him, along with a sense of peace he’d never had before.
He kicked off his shoes and turned on the bed, lying beside Abby and pulling her into his arms. He needed to hold her tight—to assure himself that she was real and not some angel who would disappear in the night. She wiggled in his arms, relinquishing the pillow she held in favor of wrapping one arm around him. She tucked her head under his chin.
Max’s eyes drifted closed. “I think I love you, Abby O’Brien,” he whispered as sleep overtook him.
* * *
Abby swore she wasn’t alone in bed, but when she opened her eyes there was no one else on the big mattress. She reached for Max’s pillow. The smell that lingered in the fabric comforted her after the harrowing experience with the train robbers.
Her eyes drifted closed as she tried to bring forth the dream. Fragments came—Max lying beside her, holding her tight, touching her hair and whispering in her ear.
She sighed. It didn’t matter, for it was only a dream. Besides, she had a career to follow and things to accomplish. If she became too involved with Max, she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her dreams.
How had life become so complicated? She groaned and rolled over, determined to go back to sleep. The movement of
the train usually rocked her to sleep, and after last night, she shouldn’t be awake now.
She suddenly sat up. That was the reason she’d awakened. The train wasn’t moving, which meant they were in Kit Carson. She threw off the covers, hurrying through the corridor to the main room.
Max was just leaving.
“Is everything all right?”
“We’ll know soon enough. Brinkenhoff will tell the constable in Kit Carson that all the robbers got away. In the meantime, I’m going to the freight car where we have them detained and see what I can determine.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Stay put, Abby. There might be trouble and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”
She jabbed her hands on her hips. “I swear, Maxwell Grant, I haven’t been told to sit still and stay out of trouble so many times since I was twelve years old.”
He had the audacity to grin.
“I bet you were in trouble a lot back then, too, weren’t you?”
She made a sound of disgust and stalked down the corridor. Inside the stateroom, she threw off her robe and began rummaging in the clothes press for a skirt and bodice. A sound at the doorway made her turn.
Max stood there, outlined by the early morning glow that came in through the windows. A shadow of beard and the dark circles under his eyes made him look fierce. If she hadn’t known who he was, he would have frightened her with his appearance.
His steely blue gaze slid down her, and everywhere it lingered, her skin heated beneath the cotton of her nightgown. She felt totally naked, but instead of embarrassment, longing and something unfamiliar made her breasts tingle and her stomach muscles tighten.
She raised a hand toward him. He braced both hands on the door jam. A muscle in his jaw twitched; he slowly shook his head.
“You are more desirable than any one woman has a right to be. If I step inside this room, you’ll be in more trouble than you ever thought possible when you were twelve.”
His words caused her heart to thump madly. She wanted him to kiss her, but he wasn’t moving. She raised her chin a notch. “Perhaps one day it will be you who is in trouble.”
Song of My Heart Page 12
