“Sam?”
“Samantha,” Paige clarified. “She’s Jesse Hutchins’ daughter. He runs the museum. Wispy little, elfin creature. She told me to come back to see the secret treasure she keeps in the museum’s back yard.” Paige laughed as she picked up a fork for the newly arrived salads. “Imaginary treasure, I suspect.”
“You do have a knack for finding secret treasures on your trips,” Jake pointed out. “Maybe she’ll save you the effort. Or at least help you avoid some of the scrapes and scratches you tend to get in the process.”
“Very funny. But I’m after facts this time, not adventure.” Except for the romantic kind, Paige added silently. “You know the railroad has a fascinating history.”
“That I do know,” Jake said, reaching for a fork. “I have an ancestor way back who worked for the Union Pacific, helped build the Transcontinental Railway, in fact.”
“That makes sense. That ran right through Wyoming, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did. Straight across the southern section, westbound. Met up with the eastbound track in Utah, not far from Salt Lake City.”
“At Promontory Point,” Paige added. “I brushed up on that when I was researching. Though my article centers around the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad, which didn’t come around until much later.”
“And this line here?” Jake asked.
Paige smiled. She’d anticipated more of a romantic dinner than a work discussion, but she didn’t mind filling Jake in on her newspaper assignments. The fact that he made an effort to be interested in her work was just one of many things to love about him.
Love. There was that word, spilled out in the open the last time they’d seen each other. Try as she might to set it aside when she was away from him, she knew she’d have to decide soon. He’d made his intentions clear by asking her to consider moving to Jackson Hole. She’d told him she’d think about it, and she hadn’t lied. In fact, she’d barely been able to think about anything else. But it was a big step. No, it was a huge step. Leaving Manhattan, leaving a job she loved.
“Paige?”
“Yes?” Paige said, at a temporary loss for words.
“The line here, the railroad?”
“Of course,” Paige said quickly, as if her mind had never wandered off. “The Durango-Silverton line. Are you really wondering how I chose Hutchins Creek as my base for writing this article?” Jake nodded. “That’s easy. I wanted to get a feel for the old steam trains, the original engines used when the rail system was built out here. And…” Paige paused. “I’m growing fond of small towns. This appealed to me more than spending a few days in Denver.”
“Is that so?”
Paige eyed Jake’s not-so-subtle smile and knew exactly what he was thinking. If Denver was too big to enjoy for a few days, Manhattan might be headed for the history books soon.
The arrival of their main course saved Paige from commenting, and she took advantage of the interruption to change subjects.
“How are things going at your ranch?”
Jake laughed. “Come back with me and see.”
Walked right into that one.
“Seriously, Jake,” Paige prodded.
“Seriously? I could use more help,” Jake admitted. “Might hire a couple of local guys to help fix up those old cabins. I replaced some floorboards, but then got sidetracked with fence repairs. Something always needs doing.”
“It’s a big property,” Paige pointed out, thinking of the acreage he’d purchased when he first moved from Cody to Jackson Hole. “Seems reasonable you’d hire some workers.”
“Well, summer’s almost here. That’s the time to get things done, when the weather cooperates.”
They continued their conversation through dinner and lingered over a shared slice of blackberry cobbler and two coffees until, stomachs full and bill paid, they headed back to the inn.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Jed Hutchins was our great-grandfather. Founded this town in 1887. He was just twenty-five years old, newly married and working up in Silverton laying down tracks for a new line up to Ouray.”
Rose Hutchins sat in a wing-backed chair, a cup of tea in her lap. Paige and Jake had both politely turned down her offer of tea and dessert, saying they were full from the meal they’d just finished at The Iron Horse.
“He was so young,” Paige mused, “to settle down and start a town.”
“Well, a person’s got to lay his head somewhere,” Rose said. “Might as well be your own town. Plus I think he had a vision of sorts, felt there’d be a need for a town somewhere between Durango and Silverton. Of course, there are a few now. But back then, this was about it.”
“He was a railroad man his whole life?” Jake asked.
“Yes he was. All of the Hutchins men were at one time or another: Jed’s son, Jasper, then Jasper’s son, Jerome, and now Jesse.” Rose counted the generations on her fingers as she recited the names. “Jasper and Jerome both worked some odd jobs for a while, but they came back to the railroad, just like the others.”
“Gosh, Jake, you’d fit right in with this family.” Paige grinned.
“That’s certainly true,” Rose said. “How we didn’t end up with a ‘Jake’ in that bunch, I have no idea. Maybe we should adopt you.”
“You managed to escape the tradition,” Paige pointed out.
Rose laughed, almost spilling her tea. “Only if you count the name ‘Jane Rosemary Hutchins’ as an escape.”
“I see,” Paige grinned. “I should have guessed.”
“Jesse doesn’t have a son?” Jake said.
Rose shook her head. “No, but he has a lovely daughter. She had just turned one when her mother passed away. Jesse has been raising her and doing a fine job. She spends a lot of time with me, but they have their own place and a part-time housekeeper, Lily, who watches her when he’s working.”
“In a house behind the museum,” Paige added.
“Yes, that’s right,” Rose said. “How did you know?”
“I met Sam at the museum. That is, behind the museum.”
“Oh, of course,” Rose said. “Samantha – officially Jessica Samantha - loves it there. She considers that miniature train yard to be her own personal territory.”
“I can vouch for that,” Paige laughed. “But she’s a lovely ambassador for that display. She’s invited me back tomorrow to see her ‘special treasure.’”
“Yes, the treasure.” Rose smiled, a twinkle in her eye. “Be prepared to hold it delicately. It won’t be hard. It’s very light.”
“Weightless is my guess,” Paige ventured.
“You’re a perceptive young lady,” Rose laughed.
“Tell me, when did the museum open? Did Jesse start it? He must have his hands full, running the business and raising a child.”
“No,” Rose clarified. “Jerome – who’s our father, but I’ll use first names to help you keep the family history straight – started the museum when the train station moved to the new building in the ‘80s. Jesse took it over when Jerome passed away. Jesse’s done a good job keeping it going, but Jerome was the original force behind it. He was determined to get that museum going. He organized fundraisers and brought in equipment and old train cars for displays – especially The Morning Star. We weren’t allowed to touch it after he finally brought it in. His father, Jasper – our grandfather – actually worked on that very car, back when it was still running. So it had sentimental value to him – for that reason, I guess. He was obsessed with it.”
“The model of it inside the museum is exquisite,” Paige said.
“That’s Jesse’s doing,” Rose said. “Since Jerome’s wishes kept him from working on the actual train car, he settled for making the model, instead. Did a fine job, too.”
“Looks like you have plans to restore it now. I saw the sign for donations hanging on the chain at the car’s entry.”
“Yes, we hope to start on that later this year. Dad was so opposed to having anyone touch it that we felt we
couldn’t go against his wishes,” Rose said. “But it’s in the best interest of the museum to restore it. Visitors love the model. You can imagine the response if they could tour the actual car.”
Paige held back her thoughts, knowing it was unlikely the train car’s chain would keep her out. At least she admitted her incurable curiosity, if only to herself. Besides, there was always a possibility Jesse would give her permission to see the inside of the train car, maybe to help her write authentic descriptions for her article.
“You know, Rose, it might spur some donations if I mentioned The Morning Star in my article. It would be easy to work that angle in. Restoration is part of keeping the history of the old railroad days alive.” Paige wanted to pat herself on the back for thinking of this. Not only would it make interesting reading, but it was likely to gain her access to the car.
Rose’s face lit up. “That would sure be nice for us. Might bring a few more visitors into the museum, too. Jesse would like that. He tries so hard to keep those exhibits going, but it takes money to run the place.”
“Of course it does,” Paige said. “And you’re right here along the Durango-Silverton line. Plenty of tourists pass through here. Maybe we can get more to stop in.”
“I like the way you think,” Rose said. “I’ll pass your ideas on to Jesse when I see him next.”
“I’m sure Paige will be back there tomorrow,” Jake said, a grin stretching across his well-tanned face. “Wouldn’t be like her to get an idea in her head and not dive right in.”
“Well, I find that admirable,” Rose said. “Perseverance is a good trait. It’s how things get done. And speaking of exactly that, I’d better get to preparing tomorrow’s breakfast. You two make yourselves comfortable,” Rose added as she stood up. “Think of Hutchins Creek Inn as your home away from home.”
“We’ll do that, ma’am.” Jake stood up as Rose did. “We appreciate your hospitality.”
“Yes,” Paige agreed immediately. “And a lovely home it is. Thank you, Rose. And thank you also for filling us in on the family history.”
“Well. There’s a lot more than just the family tree,” Rose laughed. “But I have a feeling by the time you leave here, you’ll know even more about this Hutchins family than I do.
“I wouldn’t doubt that for a minute,” Jake laughed.
“Coffee and tea will be set out in the lobby by 7 a.m. Breakfast is served from 8 to 9. Good night,” Rose added before disappearing into the kitchen.
Jake smiled as he took Paige’s hand and gently pulled her to her feet. Clearly remaining on the couch in the inn’s front parlor was not what he had in mind for the evening.
It only took a short walk down the hall to arrive at the doorways to their adjoining rooms. Paige paused outside her door, key in hand, while Jake put on a dramatic show of checking all his pockets and coming up empty.
“What do you know,” he said with mock seriousness. “I seem to have forgotten my key.” He leaned one arm against Paige’s door, the other slipping around her waist.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Paige said, grinning and blushing simultaneously. “But I suppose you could enter here and use the connecting door to your room.”
“Exactly my thought,” Jake said.
Stepping into the room with Jake behind her, Paige barely had time to close the door and turn around before Jake slipped his hands around her face, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you? I’ve been waiting all day to do this.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, followed by others on each eyelid. Paige’s pulse quickened as he trailed his lips along her cheeks and finally to her mouth, first bestowing a light, tender kiss and then letting passion take over. Paige was grateful for the sturdy door as he pressed against her. She wouldn’t have trusted her legs to hold her up without the solid wooden support behind her.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible as she buried her face in Jake’s neck. The familiar scent of his skin comforted her, as if she’d just returned from a trip away instead of being at the beginning of one. More and more she realized that home wasn’t a specific place; it was wherever Jake was. Living two thousand miles apart was becoming increasingly difficult. A decision about moving west was an unspoken current in the air.
“Paige,” Jake whispered. His lips caressed a spot below one ear and headed downward slowly. He slipped an edge of her T-shirt aside with one hand to kiss her shoulder, his other hand sliding around her waist.
“Shhh,” Paige said, running her hands down Jake’s back and giving in to the luxury of being in his arms. “No talking. Not right now.” The time together was worth savoring. No conflict, no decisions, just this moment.
CHAPTER FIVE
Paige arrived the following morning to find Sam already in the Hutchins Creek Railroad Museum’s back yard. Dressed in a faded, flowered gauze skirt and pink tank top, the young girl looked every bit the waif she had the day before.
“Skinny as a string bean. I’m surprised she doesn’t blow away in the wind.”
Jesse’s voice took Paige by surprise. She’d entered through the museum’s back gate, rather than the front, and hadn’t yet seen Jesse.
“Good morning,” Paige said. “I apologize for letting myself in the back. I saw Sam out here and wanted to say hello.”
“No need to apologize. Front entrance, back entrance – doesn’t matter to me how people enter, as long as they enter.”
“Do you get many visitors?”
“Not as many as we used to,” Jesse said. “Locals have seen all the exhibits already. Sometimes they use our back room for meetings and such. But the main visitors we get are people who stop in Hutchins Creek along the route between Durango and Silverton.”
“How many is that?”
As Jesse scratched his head, his engineer hat slipped off-center. He left it askew, and Paige had a crazy urge to straighten it for him. She refrained.
“Maybe a dozen in a day. Or two dozen on a Saturday or Sunday.”
“That’s a shame,” Paige said. “With all these exhibits and history you have here?”
“We’ve got a lot here, but not much is new. We’re working on this back yard, hoping it’ll draw more people. But there’s a lot more work to be done.”
“I noticed the donation sign yesterday, the one hanging on The Morning Star. Is that your main project now?”
Jesse shrugged his shoulders. “We’re hoping for it to be. We would have started it a long time ago if Dad had been open to the idea. Stubborn man, that one. He let us restore other cars, but not that one.”
“Any particular reason?” Paige watched Sam skipping around inside the miniature train area, a self-assigned caretaker of her tiny kingdom.
“Only that he’d always been more sentimentally attached to that one. We figure he wanted it to stay the way he remembered it.”
“I’d think being attached to it would make him even more eager to see The Morning Star restored, so visitors could see what it looked like in its heyday,” Paige said.
Jesse turned his head toward the museum at the sound of a train whistle, a signal that someone had entered through the front. “Yes, that would seem logical. But Jerome Hutchins was the epitome of stubborn. He insisted that car should stay as it is. Said it was good for people to see the old as well as the new. I guess he had a point.” He signaled toward the whistle to excuse himself. “Visitors,” he pointed out. “I need to greet them.”
Paige nodded but remained behind. Sam had stopped flitting around and appeared focused on a project. Paige couldn’t resist the urge to check it out, suspecting it might have to do with the “secret treasure.” Imaginary or not, the idea was still intriguing. Not to mention the fact that children sometimes had information that adults didn’t have. Or, better yet, more of a tendency to spill that information.
“Good morning, Sam,” Paige said as she approached the wispy figure. From where Paige stood, all she could see
was the gauze skirt, the back of two skinny legs and the heels of worn sneakers that might have been white at some point in the past. The rest of the girl was bent forward at the waist.
Sam straightened up at the sound of Paige’s voice, waved and returned to her former position. Paige drew closer, expecting to find something fascinating enough to keep the youngster’s attention. She was surprised to simply find a stack of hay.
“What are you working on?” Paige asked, growing more curious as Sam pulled one straw of hay out at a time, setting each in one of several piles.
“Just getting the hay ready. See?” Sam held up an example of two straws of equal length, setting them aside together.
“I see,” Paige said. Her only other option would be to say she didn’t see at all. “What do you plan to use these for?”
A giggle emerged from Sam, the type only a child can make in response to an adult’s silly comment.
“I’m not going to use them, of course!” Sam laughed. “They’re for the bird.”
“Ah, for the bird?” Paige’s comment was half-statement, half-question.
“For its nest,” Sam explained, her tone serious now. “Don’t you know birds need nests? They need them for homes. Like we have houses. Birds don’t live in houses.”
“You’re right, they don’t.” Paige knew her best option at this point was to let the conversation proceed on its own.
“Wanna help?”
How could she turn down such a sincere request? “Sure,” Paige said. “Show me what to do.”
“It’s easy,” Sam said. She demonstrated with several different pieces of hay, holding each one up to show Paige its length – short, medium or long. “Just put them with others the same size. You can make piles on your side, and I’ll make piles on my side.” She set a few pieces down as examples.
“I think I understand,” Paige said, finding two pieces of similar sizes and placing them together on her side of the work area.
“Very good,” Sam said. “You would get a gold star, ‘cept I don’t have one. Those are at school. Only my teacher can give them out.”
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