When there was a lull in the conversation, she gave Mr. Caper a quick glance, shifted her gaze to her hands, and spoke. “Lavendar is such a dear. You’ve never met anyone sweeter.” And, thankfully, she was able to speak without giggling.
CHANCE STARED AT A point over his brother’s shoulder and remained rigid, his lips firmly pressed together. The wagon was in his line of sight with Danny on the seat, his elbows on his knees. The area was filled with people, too many people. The train was filling up. He hadn’t expected this many to be traveling.
Daniel leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “You can’t mean to pay passage for that mangy mutt. I’m sure there are plenty of dogs in Brokken. Why waste my money?”
Chance had not spoken a word but now was goaded beyond endurance. He raised a brow. “Your money?”
Daniel licked his lips before he cleared his throat. “We’ll take good care of Rascal. Leave him here.”
“Who will care for him? You or Danny?” Neither had ever taken an interest in his dog, or for that matter, any of the other animals on the farm.
“Danny will. You know he’s a good boy who only needs direction.” His gaze traveled to his son, his face beaming. Danny either didn’t see or ignored him.
His anger toward his brother had not abated but grown stronger since a week ago when told he had to leave. Chance shook his head and kept his voice level. “I’m keeping Rascal with me. He’s loaded in the baggage area in a crate, and I already paid ...”
His brother swung his free arm toward the ticket office. “I’m sure they’ll give you the money back.”
“The subject is closed,” he said through clenched teeth without turning his head. He focused on the train beyond the wagon. Daniel had purchased the ticket, without consulting him, and told him he’d found him work. Daniel had been vague about the details.
Chance did not trust his brother and doubted a job awaited him at the end of this trip. But what choice did he have? His brother wanted him gone. In a few minutes, he’d board. The thought of being confined on the train among strangers worried him, and he lingered, wanting to delay the inevitable as long as possible.
He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, something his mother had taught him to do whenever he “got in a fix,” as she termed it. A group of passengers jostled past, and Chance sidestepped them.
Daniel rubbed his chin and then touched Chance’s arm. “I told you the town was looking for men to work. What I didn’t tell you is they’re looking for a bit more...”
“What do you mean?” His gaze fully met his brother’s for the first time that day.
Daniel appeared embarrassed, something Chance had thought him incapable of. The tips of his ears reddened as he shifted his weight on the cane. “The town is full of women, mostly widows, looking for husbands. I took the liberty of corresponding with a Miss Wanda Waldruff. She’s not a widow woman, but her pa was killed in the War, and she doesn’t have any kin.”
Chance narrowed his eyes. “Women advertised for men?”
“That’s the gist of it. This Miss Waldruff wants to be married... to you.”
Anger surged through him. “I have no intention of marrying Miss Waldruff or anyone else. You had no right to correspond in my name.”
Daniel waved his free hand. “What’s done is done. I figured it’s the only way you’ll find a woman. She’ll be waiting to meet you when you arrive.” He scratched his head. “Well, not right away. The sheriff will be interviewing the men to check their suitability. That’s how Miss Waldruff put it.”
“I’m afraid Miss Waldruff will be disappointed. I’ll explain to the sheriff I arrived under false pretenses due to my brother’s deceit.” He clenched his teeth so hard that the muscles in his jaw ached.
His brother laughed harshly. “I’m sure she’ll get over her disappointment once she learns who you are.”
Chance took a step to fully face his brother, his feet firmly planted. “So, if I’m not accepted by this Miss Waldruff, there will be no job at the stockyard?”
“Her pa owned it, and she’s been struggling to run it by herself. I’m sure she’ll find something for you to do.” He searched his pockets and pulled out a packet of letters. “Here’s the correspondence, something you can read on your journey, and there’s the advertisement.” He poked at the clipping torn from a newspaper.
His brother shook the packet of letters at him, and after a moment, Chance relaxed his stance. He’d take the letters. He needed to know what had been said.
To his embarrassment, tears pricked the back of his eyes when his hand touched his brother’s. This was not the way he should behave, especially after what their country had just endured, and considering it likely they’d never see each other again. He forced himself to speak civilly. “You were only doing what you thought best.” He gave his brother an awkward pat on his shoulder. “I need to board the train.”
A mournful wail sounded the moment he spoke. To his surprise, Daniel gripped Chance’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Have faith. It’ll work out for you.”
Chance adjusted the leather bag containing all his worldly possessions. “I’ll send you a telegram when I arrive.”
Daniel shook his head. “Save your money. Write a letter when you can.”
Chance nodded, walked toward the train, and joined the crowd boarding. Four or five men were ahead of him, and he was the last to board. His eyes took a moment to adjust, and he stood for a moment to orient himself and let his gaze sweep the interior of the car.
The conductor was having none of that and motioned Chance along. Almost every seat was taken. Where were all these people going? Surely not to Brokken, Texas?
The conductor indicated an empty seat already occupied by a gentleman around his age. Chance glanced around the compartment. Two ladies sat across from the man, one wearing a badge on her suede vest. The other young lady glanced toward him briefly, and dark turquoise eyes met his, disconcerting him. The conductor nudged him forward.
The seated man broke off an animated conversation with the ladies and spoke to him. His flash of teeth appeared more a challenge than a greeting. “A fellow passenger,” he said and rose to allow Chance to store his bag. Before he sat back down, the man gestured. “Do you prefer the window or aisle?”
Neither was to his liking—sitting where people brushed by or where he’d be confined in a corner. Sitting across from the young lady was out of the question. She’d expect him to make small talk. “I’d rather sit next to the aisle, if that suits you.”
The man slid over, and Chance took his seat beside him. Chance gave a vague nod in the direction of the ladies in greeting.
The man next to him extended a hand. “Since we’re traveling companions, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Klint Caper, and these lovely ladies are Mrs. English and Miss Brokken. Mrs. English is the sheriff of Brokken, Texas.”
Chance widened his eyes. “The sheriff of Brokken?”
“You, too?” Mrs. English said. She smiled and gestured at his hand.
Her words confused him at first. He followed her line of sight to the letters he still held with the advertisement on top.
Mr. Caper pointed to it also. “I have one just like it. Here we are, answering the advertisement, along with several more men, I assume.” He swung an arm to indicate the train filled mostly with men. “I am correct that you are one of the proposed grooms?”
Chance shook his head. “No, sir.” He hesitated. His aversion to airing his dirty laundry kept his angry words from spilling forth. He stuck the letters in his pocket. “I’m in need of a job but have no interest in marriage. I’m afraid there may have been a misunderstanding. A Miss Waldruff is under the misconception that I corresponded with her.”
Sheriff English studied him. “Misconception? What exactly do you mean?”
Chance shrugged. “Someone else corresponded with her in my name.”
She gave a half smile. “Miss Waldruff is a lovely young woman. You can explain to her wh
en we reach Brokken. And who knows? You might find her a pleasing companion and change your mind.”
“I heard the sheriff ... is in charge of this arrangement...” He broke off. Maybe he was speaking at the wrong time.
“It’s true I am checking the background of the men coming into our town. However, if you have no intention of marriage, you can handle that on your own. Speak to Miss Waldruff when we arrive.”
He nodded.
The younger lady spoke in his direction. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve failed to introduce myself. My name is Chance Hale.” He now wished he’d taken the window seat to have somewhere else to focus. The face of the woman who sat across from Mr. Caper filled his vision, and he found it difficult to turn away.
Chapter Three
As the train lurched suddenly, Mr. Caper twisted in his seat and caught Chance by his shoulder to steady himself. “Pardon me,” he said, as he released him.
Chance was glad of the jolt. It had helped him to look away from Miss Brokken. He leaned back, lowered his hat, and hoped he was at least partially hidden.
But he had a short respite. Mr. Caper placed his hand on his arm. “Did you say your name was Chance Hale? Chance Hale from the Battle of Gettysburg?”
“I was in many battles,” Chance mumbled. He shrank farther back and tried to escape the man’s scrutiny.
Mr. Caper addressed the ladies sitting across from him. “No one expected him to survive the war. ‘Not a Chance in Hale’ was his nickname.”
The reminder embarrassed him, and he pulled his hat even lower over his eyes.
“Mr. Caper, your language,” the sheriff said.
Mr. Caper laughed. “Consider it Hale, as in his last name. Some of the things he did were unbelievable. Men gave odds of him surviving the War with his exploits.”
Chance’s throat began to close on him. He crossed his arms and blocked out their voices. If anyone else questioned him, he planned to make his escape.
“I believe I’ve heard of you,” the sheriff said. “Can you tell me ...”
Chance was on his feet, mumbling an excuse. He’d find Rascal, who was somewhere on the train, in the baggage compartment, wherever that was. He stumbled down the narrow aisle, not looking back.
The sheriff’s words carried to him. “What in the world got into him?”
DEBORAH WATCHED MR. Hale scramble away and frowned. “He’s a strange one.”
Strange but attractive, although not as attractive as Mr. Caper. The ladies should be well pleased with these two. Certainly, if Mr. Hale rejected Wanda, since he claimed he did not correspond with her, others would vie for his attention
Although his clothes were of a simpler cut than Mr. Caper’s and not as well maintained, his build was similar, tall and slim. His hair had been long and shaggy beneath the hat he’d never removed. The one time he’d really looked at her, she’d caught sight of a pair of strangely colored eyes, pale gray lined with navy blue. Unworldly, as if he could see beyond the material world. She shook her head at her fanciful imaginings. Nothing like Mr. Caper’s sky-blue eyes that crinkled at the corners with good humor.
She caught sight of Mr. Caper watching her. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to say.”
“Well, if you knew his story ...” He paused and leaned forward. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Some say he killed ... or murdered ... many men. Of course, it’s not my place to speak of it.”
Deborah gasped and exchanged a look with Victoria. “But isn’t that what war is about? The killing of others?”
He shrugged. “There’s more to what happened than engagement in battle.”
She leaned forward to ask another question until she caught the sternness in Victoria’s eyes. It convinced her to let the subject drop.
She dipped her head in Mr. Caper’s direction. “I need to close my eyes for a few minutes. I have the most awful headache.”
Mr. Caper was immediately solicitous. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water?”
Deborah waved his concerns away. “I’m sure the headache will ease shortly.” She allowed the back of her head to press against the seat and closed her eyes. Her mind drifted, imagined what life would be like if she, instead of Lavendar, married Mr. Caper. With his intelligence and charm, he’d make an excellent rancher—although she wasn’t sure how charm would play into it. Her grandparents would never agree, of course, even though she was nineteen and old enough to make her own decisions. Maybe she could persuade them to move into the cabin by the lake.
No, the cabin was where she wanted to live. Her family had spent many holidays there, before the War, when they were still happy. If she married, she might have a chance to regain a bit of bliss.
A smile played on her lips. She’d have to convince her grandparents that she no longer needed them, and it’d be easier to do if she married. They could forget their plans to take her to Boston, to marry someone of their choosing. Let them move to Boston, and she, with her new husband, would move into the cabin. She’d be Mrs. Hale.
She gasped. Mrs. Caper. She meant Mrs. Caper. How could she imagine that strange man as her husband? A man who may have murdered someone, if what Mr. Caper said was true? She relaxed her muscles and tried to conjure the image of Mr. Caper again. Instead, Mr. Hale’s image wavered before her, and she dozed dreaming of him.
CHANCE FOUND RASCAL and made sure he had water and food. The baggage car was stale and strange odors lingered, but Chance didn’t leave. He’d wait until darkness gathered beyond the windows to return to his seat, or maybe he’d stay put.
Rascal dug at the boards until Chance pried the slats on top off and lifted him out. His dog greeted his release with enthusiasm.
Chance patted his sides and spoke soothingly. “It’s all right, boy. We’ll be at our new home soon.” Their new home? He felt nauseated at what lay ahead. He had to speak to Wanda Waldruff, tell her it was not he who had responded to her letters. He doubted seriously if she’d want him around after that, no matter how many jobs were available. And what could he do then? Would there be other jobs?
He sighed deeply. There was no use in speculating. With nothing to be done, he pulled his old frock coat out of the crate and shook it out. He used the government-issued coat as a bed for Rascal, as good a use for it as any.
He spread it on the floor to serve for his own bed, and Rascal joined him, curling up beside him. He smoothed the dog’s fur and spoke words softly, as much to comfort himself as his dog.
He closed his eyes and searched for the relief of his worries in sleep.
Chapter Four
A rough hand shook Chance awake. “No sleeping in here, mister.” The conductor held a lantern and swung it close to his face.
Chance put up an arm to block its blinding light, and a deep, low growl emanated from beside him. “Shh, Rascal. It’s all right.”
“Did you let that dog out? Has he done any damage in here?” The conductor swung the lantern in a larger arc, sending creatures scurrying for the shadows.
“There’s no damage,” Chance answered. He leaned forward with his forehead across his arms, the nausea worsening.
The man jerked him to his feet. “Get your dog back in the crate and then go to your seat.”
Chance grabbed his frock coat from the floor to put back in the crate. The conductor moved closer with his lantern. Chance turned sideways, out of the light, but that did not stop the conductor from touching the fabric, to inspect it.
“I thought it was green.” His voice sounded incredulous. He raised his gaze to search Chance’s features.
For a moment, he didn’t speak. Finally, Chance shrugged. “What if it is?”
The man placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly, reverentially. “Does it belong to you?”
Chance sighed heavily before he nodded and shook off the man’s grasp. The old frock coat went back into the crate followed by Rascal.
He pressed the boards together the b
est he could and slammed the heel of his hand against them, hoping they’d hold. “Will you show me the way to my seat?” he asked the man’s shadowy figure.
The conductor gave a nod. “I’ll come back later and make sure your dog is secure. He’ll be well cared for, I assure you. Follow me.”
When they reached the passenger car, the conductor stopped and turned to face him. “May I get you a bite to eat or something to drink?”
“A glass of water will do. Thank you.” As queasy as he felt, food was out of the question.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” The man moved away, and Chance was left with little light to see by.
He moved so his back was to the outer wall of the passenger car, to feel safer, protected.
The conductor returned with his water. He thanked him and drained every drop. After he gave the glass back to the conductor, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Goodnight,” he said, with all the politeness he could muster.
The conductor bowed his head. “Goodnight, sir. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I’ll be at the end of the car.” His arm swung to indicate the direction. “I’ll hold the light steady until you reach your seat.”
Chance gave a nod and headed to his seat, guided by the conductor’s light. Not everyone thought poorly of him, judging by the conductor’s treatment. But the conductor didn’t know the whole story, he was sure.
The two ladies and Mr. Caper all appeared to be asleep. He slid into his seat quietly, stretched his legs as far as he could, tilted his hat over his eyes, and soon joined them.
DEBORAH AWOKE, STRETCHED, and yawned. By the thin rays of sunlight streaming through the window, she noted Mr. Hale had returned sometime during the night. His hat had fallen from his head, and his tousled hair fell in curls across his forehead. He still slept as did Victoria and Mr. Caper. Deborah did not want to disturb them but a trip to the necessary was in order.
Brokken Arrow Page 2
