by Lena Hart
Gracie sank down on the bench behind her and watched the train as it became nothing more than a thin point in the distance—until the sun set and there was no one except her and her despair on the empty platform.
It was at the train station that Logan found Gracie sitting alone, looking more desolate than any woman should under the hanging kerosene lamp.
Night had fallen and when she hadn’t returned, fear had begun to settle in him. There were a number of things that could have befallen a lone woman wandering the city and thoughts of those possibilities had jerked him away from Mrs. Dobson’s bedside. The train station had been his first stop and he was so relieved to find Gracie in one piece, he was tempted to throttle her.
Though she appeared to be unharmed, there was something about her unnatural stillness and forlorn expression that worried him.
“Gracie? Why are you sitting out here?”
She glanced at him then blinked. “Mr. Finley, what are you doing here?” Then her eyes widened with fright. “Is Mrs. Dobson all right?”
“Yes, she’s fine. She’s resting,” he said, taking the seat beside her and removing his hat. “I came looking for you when it grew dark. What are you doing sitting here alone? Do you know what time it is?”
She blinked again then glanced around the empty platform. “Sorry if I caused any worry. I was just…” She sighed. “I was just seeing Madeline off.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
He frowned, not appreciating her easy dismissal of him or his genuine concern for her. “Bother me anyway.”
In quick, albeit hesitant words, she told him about Madeline and her decision to return to New York. There was a solemnness that still lingered in her eyes, however, and he wondered if there was more she wasn’t telling him.
“Is that what has you upset?”
He didn’t miss the fear or apprehension on her face when she glanced away from him. What could bring on that kind of despair?
“Why do you believe I’m upset?”
It’s all in your eyes, angel.
But Logan didn’t tell her that. It was the one thing she hadn’t succeeded in masking and he didn’t want her to start.
“You’ve been sort of quiet since we left New York. Is there something the matter?”
Her eyes were once again haunted and he had to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. He didn’t know where this need to shield her from pain had come, but it was fierce and strong.
“I may not look like much, but I’m a pretty good listener.”
That won him a small smile. “You look plenty fine, Mr. Finley, and I’m convinced you know that.” She suddenly stared down at her lap and said quietly, “I thank you for your concern, but it’s nothing really. I simply have a lot on my mind.”
If he had to guess, he would imagine she was thinking about the family she had left behind and the new life that awaited her in Montana. Nearly twenty years ago, he had been where she was now—traveling across the country, leaving his mother and home behind, to start a new life. He remembered how afraid and uncertain he had been during the journey. He also recalled how those same fears had resurfaced years later when he’d found himself fighting in a brutal war to save that very home.
Without thinking, Logan blurted out the verse that had served as a mantra to him on many cold, dreadful nights. “I prayed to the Lord and he freed me from all my fears.”
Her eyes widened and he smiled at the astonishment he read in them. He wasn’t a very religious man, but that short prayer had accompanied him in and out of many battles.
Suddenly the sadness faded from her eyes and was replaced by a small spark. “Why, Mr. Finley, are you quoting Psalms Thirty-four to me?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. All I know is that it’s from the Bible and has seen me through some tough times.”
She glanced away from him and stared off into the distance. “I think it’s seen my father through some difficult times as well.”
Logan recognized that look and he wanted to reach for her, comfort her. “Your father, is he…?”
“Gone?” She shook her head. “No, he’s still with us, thanks to the Lord. My daddy may not be a very religious man, but I think his faith is what kept him alive and kept him going.”
Gracie fell silent for a moment before she turned back to face him, a small smile gracing her full lips. “Thank you, Mr. Finley.”
He cocked a brow. “For what?”
“For reminding me of my faith and that I’m not alone. Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.” At his blank stare, she laughed softly. “Psalms Fifty-five, Mr. Finley.”
“Right,” he muttered.
“At any rate, I realize the burden I carry is not my own. As long as I have faith, all will be well.” She laughed again when he glanced down at the handbag on her lap, where Mrs. Dobson’s derringer undoubtedly nestled inside. “I mean real faith. As in the biblical sense.”
He returned her smile, pleased to see that she had worked out whatever it was that had brought on that forlorn look on her face.
Suddenly, she shot up from her seat and squared her shoulders as if she were readying herself for combat. “I should head back to the hospital now.”
Logan followed her up as he donned his hat. He didn’t miss the way she took a small step back, putting distance between them as she had done numerous times before. He didn’t take offense because he knew the subtle move was due to her physical awareness of him and not fear.
He wanted to think that he wasn’t the only one who sensed this unrelenting attraction between them.
“I’ll walk with you.” At the start of her refusal, he added forcefully, “Please, I insist.”
The corner of her lips lifted as she clutched the handbag close to her. “I’m no damsel in distress, Mr. Finley. You don’t have to escort me as if I’m some helpless maiden.”
My, is she stubborn.
But Logan took it all in stride, winking as he tipped his hat. “I’m not walking you because you’re a maiden, Gracie. I’m doing so because I’m a man.”
At the hospital, Gracie braced herself against Mrs. Dobson’s outrage.
“What do you mean she left?”
“Ma’am, please calm yourself,” Gracie said, worried by the sudden flush on the older woman’s face. Breaking the news of Madeline’s sudden departure had been as hard as she expected, but had she anticipated the level of the ailing woman’s ire, Gracie would have waited until morning. “Madeline is simply returning to New York. She says she will write you as soon as she arrives.”
Mrs. Dobson continued to sputter in outrage before she screeched, “The nerve of that foolish girl!”
Gracie sat and listened as Mrs. Dobson went on about the impropriety and selfishness of Madeline’s actions. Logan stood on the opposite side of the hospital bed, and Gracie threw him an apologetic look. She was sure he had better things to do with his evening than listen to the other woman harp on, yet like a gentleman, he stayed without interruption.
“And you, young lady,” Mrs. Dobson said, directing her wrath toward her. “Why didn’t you try to stop her? Why didn’t you come get me or Mr. Finley?”
Gracie suppressed a sigh of frustration, silently cursing Madeline for leaving her to deal with this mess—all while secretly wishing she had boarded the train with her.
“I’m sure Miss Gracie did everything she could,” Logan suddenly interjected.
Gracie glanced at him and he gave her a quick wink. Only moments ago, he had dropped the formality between them and though she hadn’t invited him to do so, she had secretly taken some pleasure in his easy familiarity.
“If Miss Madeline was determined to leave,” he continued, “nothing and no one could have stopped her. Not me and certainly not you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Dobson’s frown was unrelenting, though they all knew his claims were valid. “Well,
this is highly unusual and a complete inconvenience.” She glanced at Gracie and then back at Logan. “She will need you now more than ever.”
Gracie frowned. Who? Madeline?
Logan nodded. “I’ve already agreed to the role, Mrs. Dobson. I won’t go back on my word.”
Her fierce scowl relaxed some. “Excellent. Now, before you two depart in the morning, I will need you to arrange for my telegram to be sent.”
“Telegram?” Gracie hadn’t meant to blurt the question, but their obscure discussion had her at a complete loss.
“Yes, dear. I will need to send word to Mr. Whitaker about the changes in our travel plans, and Madeline has put me in the awkward position of explaining her shameful act. But Mr. Finley has graciously agreed to escort you to Montana in my stead, so you have no need to worry.”
Stunned, Gracie turned to find Logan watching her closely. She wasn’t sure if she was more staggered by the realization that she would be heading to Montana with a man who was virtually still a stranger to her or from the delight she felt at having him close.
She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned this arrangement earlier when they had been at the train station. It didn’t matter now. The plans had apparently been set and if he expected her to protest, he would be disappointed.
“All right,” Gracie murmured, detecting the small flicker of surprise in his eyes. As much as she had enjoyed boasting to him of her independence on their way back to the hospital, she was grateful for the company. Stranger or not, he was a familiar face, and she needed that if she was going to endure the long trip without her educator and mentor.
Besides, he was truly a decent sort, if his attempt at uplifting her spirits earlier with Bible verses was any indication. Gracie smiled at the memory, still touched and charmed by his gesture.
“Great. It’s settled, then,” Mrs. Dobson said.
“I believe it is.” Logan turned to her, his heated gaze lingering on her in that familiar way of his, which she was beginning to believe may not be entirely in her imagination. “I’ll be back for you in the morning, Miss Gracie. You ladies have a good evening.”
Chapter Six
It was barely dawn and already their morning was off to a bad start.
Though lost luggage shouldn’t have put her in such a sour mood, Gracie couldn’t help it. There was one luggage in particular that she wanted back. It held all of her past and memories in it, and she couldn’t bear the thought that those things were lost to her forever.
“Are you sure you couldn’t find it? The conductor confirmed all the bags were accounted for.”
Of course he would, Gracie thought. How the man could make such a bold claim was beyond her. Like Mrs. Dobson, many of the passengers who had fallen ill had not been well enough to continue their travel, which left the baggage and their train car barely half filled.
“I’m very sure,” she said. “Perhaps they were brought to the hospital? There are so many passengers still there. Maybe the porters had them mistakenly delivered there.”
“If that’s the case then there’s no way we’ll be able to get them in time,” Logan said. “The train’s departing soon.”
Her heart sank. “Is there any way we can ask them to wait? At least long enough for us to check?”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, the shrill whistle of the train sounded, signaling the train’s impending departure.
Gracie moved around him and headed toward the car door. Logan grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
“Where are you going?”
She barely glanced back at him. “I have to find the conductor.”
“I highly doubt the conductor will delay the train for a few pieces of missing luggage.”
“Well, I have to try,” she said, tugging away from his grip. He held her fast.
“Why is it so important to you?” he snapped, his dark brows pulling together. “I’m sure your rich fiancé can afford to replace whatever it is you’re missing.”
She stiffened then jerked out of his grasp. “Family mementos, letters from my friends and students. Those things are irreplaceable, Mr. Finley.”
And now they were gone. Tears of frustration welled in Gracie’s eyes and she quickly blinked them away.
“Christ,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“Please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
He arched a brow, though his lips curved slightly in amusement. “It’s fascinating how you can be on the verge of tears one moment then ready with a quick reprimand the next.”
Gracie cheek warmed, but she cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment. “I find nothing amusing about blasphemy, Mr. Finley.”
He sighed and his grin fell away. “Your luggage is probably buried somewhere in the baggage car, which we can check again later. At the next stop. Okay?”
The doors to the train car were shut as the final train whistle blew. She nodded stiffly, resigning herself to the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it now.
“Wait here,” he said, then left her in the small sitting compartment.
Settling herself in her seat, Gracie stared out the window. The sunny landscape came into full view as the slow shift of the train wheels rolled and pulled away from the station.
With the sleeper car sparse of passengers, they were able to claim a section of the train for themselves. It was a nice change from the crowded train they had traveled in from New York. Gracie now understood why Mr. Whitaker had arranged their passage on the Pullman car. The friendly black porters had been pleasant and courteous, and with their fine woodwork and plush upholstery, the compartments were spacious and comfortable.
The fact that any Negro man, even a mulatto, could afford such comforts still baffled her. A part of her almost wondered if her future husband was actually being considerate of her comforts or if he was more interested in flaunting his wealth.
Don’t be ungrateful, she chided herself.
No matter why Whitaker was doing it, she should be thankful that she and her family would no longer go without.
Gracie watched as the distant hills and broad fields rolled by, thankful that the anxiety that had churned in her stomach recently had not returned. In a few days, she would arrive at her destination and would finally meet the man she was to spend the rest of her life with.
She shut her eyes and, like she had done for many nights since, she gave a silent prayer that Mr. Robert Whitaker would prove to be a caring and considerate husband. She also gave a prayer for Madeline and Mrs. Dobson—and Mr. Logan Finley. Gracie had never expected to find herself traveling with a stranger to an unfamiliar part of the country, but she had to say she was glad for his company. In this very moment, he was the closest thing she had to a friend.
When she opened her eyes again, she stifled a small gasp. Logan stood over her, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. For a well-built man, he moved with such stealth she hadn’t even heard him.
How long was he watching me?
But it seemed as if he was always watching her with the same burning look in his amber brown eyes.
“Did you speak with the conductor?” She hadn’t meant to blurt out that question, but she was desperate to break the tense silence between them.
“Yes. The final stop will be in Nebraska,” he said, taking the seat across from her. “We will be able to check the baggage car again then.”
Gracie nodded, though they both knew, with the vacancies on board, the likelihood of her missing bag being hidden were slim. But she appreciated his effort. “Thank you, Mr. Finley.”
“Logan.”
“Pardon?”
He motioned around the closed compartment. “I think with all things considered, we can drop the formality.”
Perhaps.
But formality was the only thing keeping her from giving in to the tug of attraction that drew her to him. It would be wise of her to maintain that distance. Yet, something about him made her want to fall
into his arms, while at the same time get as far from him as she could. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because when it came to Logan Finley, she didn’t trust herself.
As the train jostled and pushed westward, they fell into a comfortable silence. Like she’d done the past few days, Gracie pulled out the newspaper she’d purchased in Chicago and began reading. Logan placed his hat on the seat beside him and, with arms folded, leaned back and shut his eyes. She tried to ignore his knees as they brushed against hers, focusing her attention instead on losing herself in the articles.
She loved reading ever since Mrs. Dobson had taught her. She read everything and often. When she had come into a certain age, she had tried to share her love of the written word by teaching her family. Only her father had made the time and had exercised the patience to learn the skill. Her mother, on the other hand, had found no use for it. Not when working and maintaining a roof over their heads had been the ultimate priority, as she put it.
But for Gracie, reading was not only an escape from reality, it was also a way into a world her people were not allowed in. Barely two years had passed since the laws forbidding slaves to read had been removed, and she was all the more adamant that she continue to read widely.
Unfortunately, however, she couldn’t lose herself in the pleasures of reading as she had done so many times. It no doubt had everything to do with the man sitting across from her and his hard-to-ignore presence.
With Madeline and Mrs. Dobson’s company, Gracie had managed to get through at least one paragraph without her mind wandering to Logan’s commanding presence. But the warmth of his leg rubbing against hers and the way his hard body seemed to exude strength, made the task practically impossible.
Gracie snapped the newspaper pages shut and laid them on her lap. Stealing a quick glance at Logan, she found him peering at her through lowered lids.
“Bad news?”
“No,” she said, her cheeks warming as lingering thoughts of him still drifted through her mind. “Just…bored.”
“We could play cards.”
Gracie’s eyes widened with shock and intrigue. “You mean poker?”
