"Do you know it?" she asked.
Tate nodded. "I sure do. I've been there a few times. Passing through, you understand."
Instantly she seemed eager to know more. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the table. Her pretty features had lit up with an irresistibly attractive delight. Tate told himself he could get used to looking at her like this. It was a pity they'd soon both be going their separate ways.
"What's it like?" she asked breathlessly.
Tate shrugged. "Inspiration?" He lifted his gaze up to the ceiling. "Let me see." Looking back at Gretchen he added: "It's what you'd call a pleasant town. There are some good people there. It's good ranching country in those parts. I'd call it a godly town. Not like some other places I could mention in Montana."
Her brows furrowed at that last remark. "Is Montana a dangerous place?"
Tate shook his head. "Depends. There are some good law and order folks in these parts." He smiled. "Sheriff Nathan Cameron looks after things in Inspiration. I'd rate him pretty highly."
Her brows knitted into an exquisite dark line. "Do you know him?"
In spite of himself, Tate felt his face flush. Of course he knew Sheriff Cameron of Inspiration. But Tate wasn't going to talk about how he knew him. "I know of him. Why?"
Reaching into her reticule, Gretchen withdrew the envelope on which was written her name. "I'm staying with the sheriff and his wife."
Tate sat quickly upright, feeling genuinely startled. "You are?"
Gretchen nodded enthusiastically. "His wife Sophie runs a matchmaking business. I've agreed to go to Inspiration."
Despite only just making Gretchen's acquaintance, Tate felt a heavy sensation settling in his middle. "To find a husband?" he asked.
Gretchen nodded. Suddenly her mood had brightened. "At least that's my hope."
Tate wanted to ask why she'd come all this way from back East in search of a husband. Surely there would have been no shortage of suitors back there, he told himself.
"Who's the lucky man?" he asked, realizing his question was bold and might even seem inappropriate.
Gretchen shrugged. "No-one. Yet," she admitted. "There are a few men who are interested in an arranged marriage. Sophie is in charge of all the details. I'll find out when I get there."
"And you trust her to do the right thing?" he asked skeptically.
"She comes with the highest of recommendations," she replied. "Her sister in Philadelphia works with Sophie to make it possible for women who are looking to marry to find opportunities out west."
Tate sighed. "That's quite something. Still, it seems like a leap of faith," he said. Her brows rose and he added quickly. "If you want my honest opinion."
Her lips tightened and she glanced out the window. "My train will be leaving soon," she said.
"It usually takes about an hour for the engineer to complete the taking on of water," he explained.
"Do you live in this town?" she asked, suddenly shifting the conversation to him.
He wondered just how much he was willing to share with her and concluded that he'd keep the full story to himself. She didn't need to know the whole truth. "I guess you could say I'm a temporary resident."
"Where are you from originally?" she asked. She seemed determined to get some answers out of him. Maybe she could sense his reluctance, he told himself.
"I'm a Wyoming man, originally," he admitted. "Laramie is my home town."
That piece of information didn't seem to mean much to her. She nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing in response. He couldn't expect her to know anything about the frontier. This was going to be a new start for her. In fact, he was sure Montana must seem like an entirely different continent. In many ways it was. She'd left behind all the certainties of her life back East and traded them for an unknown future. He wondered what had driven her to do such a thing. He'd heard about mail order brides before. Often it was personal necessity or even family tragedy which made them come out to the frontier in search of marital happiness. He'd also heard that sometimes it didn't work out well.
She peered at him. "What kind of business are you in?"
For a moment, he was put on the back foot. Hesitating, he considered his next words carefully. "I've been a ranch hand mostly. That's taken me all over this territory." He smiled. "There're plenty of men in my line of business."
"You're a cowboy?" she asked.
He turned down his mouth. "I guess you could say that. Or you could call me a cowpuncher."
"Cowpuncher?" she exclaimed. "You don't go hitting cows for a living, do you?"
Tate laughed. "No. It's just a way of describing one part of our job. We don't actually punch cows."
Her shoulders dropped in relief. "Thank goodness for that."
"My job isn't as exciting as some of those dime novels make out. There're no gangs, or outlaws in our job."
Gretchen frowned. "I don't read dime novels."
"I'm sure you don't," he said. "They're full of fantasy and nonsense. Sometimes we read them out around the campfire at night. If we want a laugh after a hard day of cow punching." He smiled at her.
Gretchen giggled. She sipped her coffee. He realized he liked it when she laughed. Her whole demeanor lit up with a natural enthusiasm.
She put down her cup and gazed pensively out to the street. "This isn't a dangerous town is it?"
"Now why would you ask that?" he replied.
She arched a brow. "It is a wild west town, isn't it?"
"I guess it is." Gazing out at the street, he sighed. "There're plenty of towns like this on the rail line. They spring up and sometimes they grow. Or like this one, they never seem to catch on."
"Why hasn't this town caught on?"
"The country around here is rough. Not ideal for ranching. Mostly we get homesteaders. They come and try to settle, but the terrain is rough. Mountainous, too. That makes things hard. Even for homesteaders who're used to tough living."
"Maybe one day I'll come back and see for myself how its turned out," she said.
He thought there was a hint of mischief in her voice when she'd said that. He gazed across at her and nodded. "Once you're married. Maybe you and your new husband might spend some time getting to know the territory."
She smiled softly. "Maybe we will." She blinked, as if dragging her attention back to the present moment. "What am I talking about? I haven't even arrived in Inspiration and I'm already talking about what I'm going to do once I'm married."
"Your future hometown is only a hundred miles away. Although, there're plenty of good trails."
Her brows shot up. "A hundred miles!"
Tate nodded. "You're lucky the train will take you there. The territory between here and Inspiration has plenty of places you wouldn't want to spend too much time in."
Suddenly, the distant sound of a whistle cut through the air. Gretchen jerked upright in her chair and twisted, facing the window. "The train!" she exclaimed.
Gretchen stood. Pressing her hands against the window, she tried to look toward the station. Tate stood, pushing back his chair with a sudden urgency. He knew that sound. And he knew what it meant.
Gretchen turned and stared at him. Her face was white with shock. "The train is leaving!" she groaned disbelievingly.
All Tate could do was peer at her for what seemed like an eternity. Something heavy sank in his middle. "It can't be leaving so soon. It never leaves this quickly."
Even as he said the words he knew they weren't true. For whatever reason, this time the train engineer had done his job with unusual haste. In all the times Tate had witnessed the train stopping for water, he'd never known it to be done so quickly.
Right now, though, he knew he only had a few moments to act. And, if he didn't do what was right, then Gretchen would be stranded in the town of Refuge for a whole week. And, with dangers hovering in the background, like dark forces waiting to pounce, he knew he couldn't let that happen.
"Follow me as fast as you can," he ordered Gret
chen. Then, Tate started to run for the door of the dining room.
CHAPTER THREE
This couldn't be happening, Gretchen told herself as she raced along the boardwalk. Holding onto her skirts, she tried to make sure she didn't take a tumble on the hard wooden surface. She was already out of breath, having followed Tate out of the hotel dining room. Glancing up ahead, she saw Tate running across the barren land between the end of the boardwalk and the train station. He made powerful long strides as he raced up the gradual slope. He'd be at the station within moments. Maybe he hoped he'd catch the train as it slid out of the station. But she knew that was a forlorn hope. It was already too late.
Worst of all was the fact that she couldn't see the train. There was no sign of it.
It had gone!
Her heart was pounding furiously as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Holding onto her skirts with one hand, she clutched her reticule tightly in the other hand. If the train had left her behind, the contents of her reticule were all she had left.
Gretchen leaped off the end of the boardwalk and stumbled. Pausing breathlessly, she heard the distant sound of the train as it continued to make its way down the tracks.
All her belongings were on that train. Everything she owned. Groaning loudly with frustration, Gretchen grasped her skirts and started after Tate who'd already reached the platform. She saw him skidding to a halt and gaze to the west at the fast disappearing train. Sprinting up the slope, Gretchen saw Tate shake his head and run his hand through his dark hair.
Reaching his side, she peered past the train platform and saw the final carriage of the train disappear around a tree-lined curve in the tracks.
"No!" she shrieked. Dropping her arms by her side, she felt a sudden heaviness descend upon her body. Gasping for breath, she felt herself sway. Closing her eyes momentarily, she knew she was about to crash to the platform surface.
Suddenly, she felt Tate's strong arms sweep her into his embrace. He held her tightly as she tried to regain her composure. Opening her eyes, she gazed up into his eyes. His features swam before her eyes. For a second she was sure she was dreaming. Any moment now, she'd awake in her carriage and realize this had all been a terrible dream. That there was no such place as Refuge. That she'd never met this handsome cowboy.
When Tate spoke, she knew this was all too real. "Gretchen. Are you alright?" She saw genuine concern in his eyes.
She felt Tate drawing her nearer to him, steadying her. His arm slid around her waist and he led her across to a wooden bench. He guided her onto the seat and then took his place next to her.
With the train gone now, an awful silence had descended upon the small station. All she could hear was the sound of her pounding pulse in her ears. All she could feel was the thundering of her heartbeat and Tate's arm resting gently around her waist. Glancing down the length of the tracks, she confirmed the truth for the final, decisive time.
The train was gone and she was stranded.
An encouraging thought drifted into her mind. Even as she weighed it up, she knew it was probably born of her desperation. Looking up at Tate she asked: "When is the next train due?"
From the immediate deepening ridges on his brows she knew his reply would not be encouraging. "A week."
His words hit her like a physical blow. "A week!"
Tate nodded. "I know the schedule. The next westbound train will be in seven days."
Gretchen groaned and sagged forward, leaning her elbows on her knees. "This can't be happening. All my possessions are on that train. My clothes. Even my Bible."
Tate sat upright and remained silent for a long moment. She felt as if he was trying to reassure her. The memory of what he'd said back at the hotel flashed into her mind.
"What are Sophie Cameron and her husband going to think when the train arrives and I'm not on it?"
"I guess the train guard will realize you got left behind."
Gretchen frowned. "Will he know I got left behind here?"
"Most likely he'll figure it out," Tate said, trying to sound reassuring. "They might send someone here to find you. But its nearly four days ride from Inspiration."
"Four days!" Gretchen exclaimed. She ran a hand across the side of her face. She felt sweat on her warm skin. While her spinning head had settled down, her nerves were still shaking from what had happened. She gave a Tate a stern look. "You told me it would take an hour for the engineer to finish his job."
Tate's brows shot up in a line as if he'd been taken aback by her sudden outburst. "It usually does. I don't know why he did it so quickly this time."
Gretchen sat up and faced Tate. "If I hadn't listened to you I'd be sitting on that train right now."
Gretchen expected him to object. She was waiting for him to stand up and look down at her and deny any part in this. She fully expected that he'd deny it was his fault. Instead, he simply nodded and looked straight into her eyes. "I'm sorry if I misled you, Gretchen."
For a moment she was taken aback by his sudden honesty. Gretchen stared incredulously at Tate. His features were steady and unmoving. He'd uttered his apology in a matter-of-fact way. Almost as if he was used to owning up to his faults.
This was a man accustomed to telling the truth. But she also realized she knew almost nothing about him. She wasn't in the habit of relying on strangers. And, out here on the Montana frontier, she wasn't about to start doing that.
She'd assumed he'd claim she should never have left the train. He would have been right, of course. Her curiosity had led her to take a foolish decision. Leaving the train had been her own fault. Meeting Tate had merely added to the problem.
"I'll just have to stay here for a week," she declared.
Instantly, she saw Tate's features darken. "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Why not?" she demanded.
"I know this town," Tate said slowly. "It isn't safe for a woman to stay here on her own."
Gretchen thrust a hand against her hip and frowned at Tate. "I can look after myself, Tate," she stated firmly. "I grew up in the city. I know what life can be like."
Tate lifted a brow. "You're telling me you know what its like to live on the frontier?"
She shrugged. "It's all the same, no matter where you come from. One place is much like another."
Tate shook his head. "That's where you're wrong, Gretchen. Forgive me for saying this, but you don't know a thing about living out here. It isn't the same as some fancy district in Philadelphia."
"Who said I came from a fancy district?" she asked sharply.
Tate ran his gaze down the length of her gown and all the way back up to her neat bonnet. "I think I know what you're used to when it comes to living. And it isn't what you're going to find in Montana. Not even in a nice place like Inspiration."
Gretchen stood and peered down at Tate. Lifting her reticule, she stated: "I have enough money in here to stay in the hotel for a week. Then I'll get the train when it comes and go to Inspiration. Just like I intended." She knew she probably sounded indignant. Even slightly bad-tempered. But her composure had been disturbed so much by the events of the last five minutes that she could still feel her nerves shaking.
Tate stood and faced her. "I still think it's a foolish thing to do."
Gretchen jammed her fists against her hips and peered up at Tate. "Is that right." It wasn't a question, more like a statement of defiance. She'd already decided she wasn't going to let him make any decision for her. After all, they were still strangers to one another.
Tate nodded slowly. "Okay. Looks like you've made up your mind."
"I certainly have," she confirmed.
Then Tate did an infuriating thing. The corner of his mouth creased with the hint of a smile. He was making fun of her. That sudden thought triggered another wave of indignation.
Before she had a chance to challenge him again, he spoke: "Let me walk you back to the hotel."
"I can go there myself," she snapped.
"I'm go
ing that way. Makes sense that I should accompany you."
She frowned. "You're going to the hotel?"
"I'm staying there," he declared bluntly. "I've been there for a week."
Gretchen felt her mouth drop open. Tate grinned, apparently pleased with the effect of his surprising words.
Tate leaned closer and offered her his arm. "I'm sure they've got an empty room. I'll speak to the manager. He's a friend of mine. Maybe he can give you one of the better rooms." Tate lifted a brow and smiled.
Now she knew he was making fun of her again. Gretchen glanced down at his offered arm. Ignoring it, she strode off. Tate caught up with her and walked alongside her to the hotel. Neither of them said a word to one another.
Walking into the hotel foyer, Gretchen explained her predicament to the man at reception. Gretchen refused the first offer of a room. The man called the manager, who was a tall, thin man with gray hair. He wore a dark suit. Mr Lindsey listened as Gretchen explained that she'd missed her train and needed a room for a week. Lindsey frowned and seemed genuinely affected by Gretchen's predicament. All through this, Tate stood alongside Gretchen. She realized she could have asked him to leave her alone. But, for some reason she couldn't understand, she was quietly pleased he was by her side.
As she finished recounting her tale, she saw Lindsey and Tate exchange a brief look. Lindsey turned and lifted a key from a nail on a board behind reception. "This one is on the first floor and looks out on the Main Street," Lindsey explained. "It's the biggest room in the hotel. And the bed is good."
Gretchen felt her face flush with heat. Glancing up at Tate, she saw his steady, unreadable expression. Taking the key, Gretchen nodded. "That will be perfect, Mr Lindsey," she said.
As she started to make her way toward the stairs, Tate followed her. Gretchen paused and squinted at Tate. "Where are you going?"
"Seeing you to your room," he stated.
Lifting a shoulder, she shook her head. "I'd prefer to go there myself."
The Lawman’s Frontier Bride Page 2
