Rather than discuss his own activities or draw suspicion by inquiring about Stone’s affairs in England, Peregrin asked him about his life in the West. Mrs. Evans seemed interested, too, though Peregrin had been under the impression that the two had known each other in Oregon. Stone grew more talkative than he had been to date and told about the stagecoach line he’d started with his niece’s husband. Mrs. Evans asked him many questions about the line and how he had gone about establishing the stations and promoting its services. Peregrin observed them with interest. He still wasn’t sure exactly the nature of their relationship.
“I’m surprised you wanted to take such an active part in the business, sir,” he said. “An investment, yes, but it sounds as though you did most of the buying and organizing.”
“Yes, I did.” Stone fixed him with a keen eye. “I’ve been a working man the past twenty years, Walmore. And I don’t intend to stop once I reach Stoneford.”
“Ah, then you have plans for the estate.”
“Indeed I do. I have no idea what has happened since Richard died, but Anne has given me a fair idea of the way things were before his death. I intend to keep the farms going and perhaps add a couple of other ventures.”
“What sort of ventures?”
Stone lowered his gaze and shrugged. “I’d rather not discuss it until I see how things are at Stoneford, but if things go well, I shall institute some modern methods there.”
Walmore nodded, more curious than ever. “I wish you success, sir.” It was too bad the man wouldn’t live long enough to carry out his plans.
The train rattled on through the night, making several brief stops to take on and discharge passengers and replenish their water and coal. A gas lamp flickered low at each end of the car, and the uncurtained windows let in moonlight. When it was too dark to read, they talked as quietly as the noise of their journey would allow.
“I’m sorry that we have to sit up all night,” Stone said to Mrs. Evans. “The conductor tells me that we’ll change to a different train in Illinois tomorrow, and we’ll be able to get berths on that one.”
“Well, it is only the two nights,” Mrs. Evans said. “I’m sure we’ll survive it.”
Peregrin couldn’t help thinking what a fuss Merrileigh would make if Randolph informed her that she would have to sit up all night in a common railroad carriage.
The conductor put out all but two gas lamps, one at each end of the car. After a while, most of the passengers sank down in their seats. Peregrin drifted in and out of sleep, using his wadded jacket as a pillow.
They stopped at a small town in Illinois just after dawn.
“This is where we change trains,” Stone said.
The conductor assured them that their baggage would be transferred, and they climbed down to the platform. Walmore was beginning to feel secure, but he still looked sharply about as they strolled toward the depot.
They soon learned that they must wait three hours until the Philadelphia train was ready, and the station agent suggested a boardinghouse that would serve breakfast to early travelers.
“What do you say, Mildred?” Stone asked. “Shall we sit down to a hot breakfast?”
“It sounds lovely,” she replied.
“Ah, excuse me for a minute.” Stone eyed a sign on the wall. “They have a telegraph office, and I believe I’ll send a wire, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Evans told him. “Mr. Walmore and I shall ramble on to the end of the platform and back.” She smiled at Peregrin. “Shall we?”
“Delighted.” He offered his arm as Stone strode off to the telegraph operator’s window, and she placed her gloved hand inside the crook of his elbow. Was the telegram going to David’s banker in New York? Or perhaps he was sending a message to be forwarded to England.
Peregrin straightened his shoulders a bit. It felt good to be perambulating with a lady on his arm. He had neglected the fair sex too long on this journey. In fact, he hadn’t come into the company of any women he’d call “ladies” since a party Nigel Wallace had thrown in New York. But Mrs. Evans definitely qualified. He’d decided that much since they’d boarded the train in Independence. She lacked a certain polish that British women of the upper class possessed, but she was gracious and kind. She also had discretion, and she managed to look lovely on a sooty train journey, which was saying a lot.
Stone returned as they ambled back toward the telegraph booth. “There, that’s taken care of. Oh, and I spoke for sleeping compartments for us all tonight. We shan’t have to worry about a thing until tomorrow evening, when we’ll approach Philadelphia.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Evans said.
“That’s very good of you,” Peregrin added.
They took their time over breakfast, savoring fresh fruit, good coffee, and perfectly cooked eggs. Still, they returned to the depot with time to spare. At last they settled in on the new train. The seats were better padded than those on the last train, and the car looked generally cleaner and better maintained. They passed the time in pleasant conversation, and at noon picnicked out of the basket, adding hot muffins and a jug of milk that Stone purchased from a vendor at one of the stops.
The day wore on, and Peregrin grew restless. He learned from the porter that the last carriage before the baggage car was open to gentlemen who wanted to smoke. His interest piqued immediately. Surely a card game would be found there. This train was definitely a cut above the last.
Around eight o’clock in the evening, Mrs. Evans confessed she was tired and rose.
“If you gentlemen will forgive me, I’d like to retire.”
“Of course,” Stone said. “Let me get the porter and ask him to get your berth ready.”
“Have a good night,” Peregrin said. When David had gone off down the aisle with Mrs. Evans, he headed in the opposite direction, for the smoking car. He had hardly any money on him, but he’d found that Americans sometimes played for very low stakes. He hadn’t so much as mentioned it earlier—one didn’t discuss gambling in the presence of a lady, and he was sure Stone wouldn’t like to think he would borrow from him and then risk the small amount he had left.
But Stone didn’t seem to be a smoker—or a drinker either, now that Peregrin thought about it. While that was odd, the gentleman wasn’t likely to make his way to the smoking car. Unless, of course, he’d been waiting for Mrs. Evans to leave them to indulge. The poor chap had been cooped up in a hotel room for weeks, after all. It was just possible he might kick up his heels now. If Peregrin got into a game, he’d have to sit where he wouldn’t easily be noticed if Stone glanced in.
He had to walk through two other carriages to reach the smoking car. Porters were beginning to lower the sleeping berths that hung above the seats, and passengers were moving about, rearranging their belongings and preparing to retire.
On the open platforms between cars, the wind tore at Peregrin. The night had turned quite chilly, and he hurried to get inside again.
The atmosphere was hazy blue in the smoking car, and the occupants looked quieter than he’d imagined. Several men sat chatting amiably with glasses in their hands. Peregrin smiled. They had a small bar back here, at the far end of the car. Apparently ladies were excluded, or perhaps they weren’t told about it. And there was indeed a poker game going on in a corner. Four men sat around a small table that folded down from the wall, fanning out their cards. Peregrin was just about to step forward and ask to be dealt in when he noticed a large man getting a drink at the bar.
A very large man.
Peregrin caught his breath and glanced quickly about. Sure enough, sitting with his back to the door of the car was a smaller man whose ears and worn jacket looked suspiciously like Teddy’s. Peregrin ducked back, bumping into another passenger who’d just entered.
“Oh, excuse me.”
He shoved past the man, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth. His accent would draw attention. He bustled out onto the little platform between cars and stood gasping for a mome
nt. He didn’t want to go inside the next car appearing discomposed, but he couldn’t stay here. If Wilkes or Teddy came out, they’d have him at their mercy in a dangerous spot. He hurried into the next carriage, not daring to look back.
How had they caught up? They would kill him; he was sure of it—unless he somehow came up with the full amount he owed them. But Peregrin hadn’t the means to win it back, even if he dared waltz in there and join the poker game. No, he could never do that with Wilkes and Teddy relaxing and wetting their whistles. He’d be too nervous to concentrate on a game, assuming they let him sit down and play. With his limited funds for a stake, the best he could hope for was to come away with pocket money for the trip, and that would never make the two toughs happy.
He mustn’t let them know he’d seen them. Maybe he could leave the train at the next stop and disappear into the night.
But could he survive with only a few cents in his pocket? He hadn’t enough for the meanest hotel room.
The only thing he could think of that would give him a remote chance of living through this horrible journey was to do what Merrileigh had sent him to do—and to pick David’s pockets before he threw him off the train. He could pay the thugs from David’s plump wallet and keep whatever was left.
The thought made him feel ill, and he slumped down into the nearest empty seat. It was the only way, he told himself. He couldn’t rob David Stone and leave him alive, or he’d be arrested before he had time to count his plunder.
His short-lived notion that he could bypass his sister’s plan and continue supporting himself in America had gone by the wayside. He’d failed to make good on his first attempts at bringing in more money and had in fact lost most of what he began with. When he reached New York, or whatever destination he settled on, he would need money. And if he wanted Merrileigh to help him in the future, he had to get rid of David. No other way presented itself for him to satisfy his debt to Lionel Baxter and cut loose from the savage hounds nipping at his heels.
David made his way down the aisle from the tiny washroom toward his berth. Millie had settled in for the night in hers, and he supposed he may as well get as much sleep as he could. He paused halfway down the aisle. The porters had lowered most of the berths along the length of the car, but at the one he was sure was his, a man stood with his head poked inside the curtains. A man not in uniform. David was quite certain from his clothing that it was Peregrin Walmore.
He stepped as briskly down the aisle as possible, dodging other passengers. Now the fellow had his arms inside the berth, too. David checked the numbers, just to be sure. It was his, just beyond Millie’s compartment.
“May I help you?” He tapped the man on the shoulder.
Peregrin Walmore pulled his head quickly from the curtains and blinked at him, his cheeks flushing pink amid his purple and yellow bruises. “Oh, I say. Stone. Uh…sorry, I thought this was my berth. But I see now that it’s your bag in there.”
“Yes,” David said coldly. “Yours is across the way.”
“Pardon,” Walmore said.
David didn’t like it one bit. Something was fishy about this fellow’s behavior and had been from the start. He glanced around. Several other passengers were within earshot, and Millie, if she wasn’t sleeping already, must be able to hear them as well. He frowned at Walmore. “I’d like to speak to you privately, please.”
“Well…uh…”Walmore glanced over his shoulder. “I suppose we’ll have to go outside. No privacy in here.”
“True enough. Shall we?”
Walmore hesitated. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
David followed him to the end of the car and out onto the platform. The cool night air rushed by. He paused for a moment to observe the dark countryside zooming past. They must be making thirty miles an hour. He didn’t know as he’d ever gone this fast except for when he was riding a good horse at a full gallop. He thought fondly of Captain, the faithful mount he’d turned over to Anne before he left Oregon. Maybe he could build up the stable in Stoneford after he’d got his feet under him.
Hands pushed against his back—hard. David fell forward, doubling over the low iron railing. He grabbed it and held himself fast. If he’d missed his hold, he’d have tumbled right off the train.
He regained his balance and whipped around as Walmore lunged at him. David caught his wrists as the younger man dove for his throat. Squeezing with all his might, David stared into Walmore’s eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Walmore grimaced. “N–nothing. I—you slipped. I was trying to help you. Gave me a fright, you did.”
David shoved him, slamming him against the door of the next car. Pinning him against the door wasn’t all that difficult, which surprised David, considering what little exercise he’d had lately. He was breathing a bit hard, but not nearly so desperately as Walmore, who gasped for air. The young whelp might be a gentleman of sorts, but he had no manners, and he was sadly out of shape.
“Look, we both know you attempted to kill me,” David said grimly. “I think I know why.”
“You do?” Walmore gulped, still staring at him, bug-eyed.
The door behind Walmore opened, and the young man almost fell into the car. Behind him, the conductor said, “Everything all right out here?”
“Yes, thank you,” David said.
The conductor shot Walmore a suspicious glance but nodded and said, “Very good, Mr. Stone. We’re approaching Terre Haute.” The train’s doleful whistle accentuated his words. “Let me know if you need anything, sir.”
“I will,” David said.
The conductor closed the door, and David faced Walmore. He loosened his grip somewhat, but didn’t let go altogether. “Tell me now who put you up to this. Was it Randolph?”
“N–no,” Walmore said. “I wasn’t—oh, please, you mustn’t think me so vile.”
“But I do.”
“It’s—it’s—”
“It’s what? Tell me!” David grabbed his lapels and shook him. Walmore raised a hand in supplication, and David let go of him.
“I owe some money. I know, it was stupid of me, but I thought—”
“You thought what? That I’d pay off your debt? You were disappointed, weren’t you? I bought you a train ticket instead, and some meals and sundries. But you needed more. Is that what you were doing in my sleeping berth? Going through my things, looking for cash?”
The sky was quite dark, but David fancied Walmore’s face went scarlet, and he didn’t readily deny the accusation. The train lurched as the brake went on, and they both reached for the railing.
In the moment when they struggled to keep their balance, David considered telling the bounder to keep clear of him and Millie for the rest of the journey. But it might be wiser to keep an eye on him.
He eyed the young man sternly as they shifted their weight and the train slowed further, with the wheels squealing against the rails. “I’m warning you, Walmore. Anything short of impeccable behavior from you, and I shall have you arrested. Do you understand?”
“I—well, yes, but—”
“I mean it. If there’s any more of this nonsense, I shall turn you over to the authorities.”
The train had slid into the next station, where the platform was brilliantly lighted and crowded with people. David turned his back on Walmore and entered their carriage. Best to get out of the way before new passengers came on. He didn’t like the idea of going to sleep with Walmore close at hand, but at least he had put the fellow on notice. Perhaps he could catch the conductor after things settled down and ask him to keep an eye on his fellow traveler.
He was about to climb into his berth when Millie poked her head out between the curtains next door.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “I thought I heard you and Mr. Walmore having words.”
David glanced about. New passengers were boarding, with porters carrying their overnight bags into the car. “Everything’s fine. We’ll speak in the m
orning.”
She nodded.
“We’re at Terre Haute,” he added, “wherever that is.”
“Indiana, I expect.”
“Ah. Sleep if you can. I shall stay here now. Call out if you need anything.”
She gazed at him for a moment, her green eyes full of questions. He hated to leave her wondering, but they really couldn’t discuss the matter with all these people about.
“Good night then.” She gave him a wan smile and withdrew her head.
David looked toward the end of the car where he’d had the altercation with Walmore, but there was no sign of the young man. He climbed onto the sleeping platform and pulled the curtains closed. One latch was unfastened on his small valise. He shoved it aside and removed his shoes.
“Now I lay me down to sleep,” he muttered as his fatigue overtook him. “I pray thee, Lord…Up to You, really.”
To Millie’s surprise, David was already up when she left her sleeping compartment in the morning, and the porter was folding up his hanging berth so he could sit down. She had thought she was rising early, but there he was, looking splendid. She suspected he had given his shoes to the porter to polish last night, and perhaps had his jacket pressed as well.
David caught sight of her as she stood admiring him, and she flushed.
“Good morning, Mildred,” he said with a smile. “I’m told we’re nearing Cincinnati. We’re stopping soon at a town on the outskirts.”
“Can we get breakfast there?”
“There’ll be vendors coming on with coffee and food. The train will only stop for twenty minutes, so they don’t recommend that we leave it.”
“That’s fine,” Millie said. “Did you sleep?”
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 92
