She hated lying! And she used to be so good at it. In her fatigue, she felt herself smile and wondered if she was about to become hysterical. Lying to Anson was nothing like lying to Christian, or even Jake. The worst that ever happened with them was some carefully crafted, often humorous revenge.
God, how they had indulged her. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and brushed it away. Gone less than twelve hours, and she was already homesick. She wouldn’t think about them. She would think about Anson, how much he loved her, and the life they were going to build together.
Her tired brain recalled a different picture of Anson. An Anson furious with one of his friends. She and Anson had gone out drinking with two other couples. She couldn’t remember what had started it, but Anson had exploded. The other man, Anson’s friend, lost two teeth and gained a broken nose before the others could calm Anson down.
He had become his old self so quickly that Emily had almost convinced herself it hadn’t happened, not the way she remembered, anyway. She realized now that she had been a little more hesitant around Anson after that.
She tried to brush the thought out of her tired brain. Everything would be all right. Her baby’s father was with her. They would be a family. And she would keep him from drinking. There was no extra money for it, anyway.
Her thoughts turned incomprehensible, and she slept.
Shaking awakened her. The last vestiges of a vaguely unsettling dream slipped away before she had a chance to examine it. A confusing roar surrounded her, and she rubbed her eyes. As soon as she sat upright she felt a sickening lurch in her stomach. For a moment she thought she would retch, but her stomach was empty.
She lay back against the seat, groaning.
“Emily! Wake up. We have to get out soon.”
She peeked at Anson with one eye. The train. The escape. The money. All were clear again. But so was the roiling in her stomach. “I think I need to eat something,” she said.
The train had come to a near stop, and he stood, taking her arm. “Get your bag. We have to get to another station. I don’t know how far it is or how much time we have. We’ll worry about food when we get there.”
On her feet, she braced her knees against the seat until her head cleared. Anson tugged her arm, and she grabbed the carpetbag, letting him drag her off the train.
Jake had watched the couple closely at each stop. Berkeley let Emily sleep through them all. Until this one. As they neared the Emporia station, he shook her awake. Jake came instantly alert. They would be getting off here, no doubt to change to another line. He would have to be careful not to lose them in the crowds. Or show himself, which would probably prove the more difficult task.
He watched Emily’s profile as she came awake. She looked pale and sick. He heard his teeth grind together and consciously loosened his jaw. He couldn’t let his anger at Berkeley, or his fear for Emily, cloud his judgment.
As the train came to a lurching stop, the couple stood. He waited until they were moving to the exit ahead of them before he stood, as well, slipping out the door at the rear of the car. He fell back, waiting to see which direction they took then followed, well behind.
Berkeley didn’t seem to know where he was going. He dragged Emily off the platform and looked around him. Jake quickly stepped behind a group of travelers, watching cautiously over a young lady’s shoulder. The woman gave an indignant sniff, and he looked down into reproving eyes. He opened his coat to reveal his badge, fixing her with a threatening glare. She gasped and sidestepped into one of her companions. He didn’t wait to reassure her. Berkeley was on the move again.
Jake was forced to remain beside the Santa Fe depot as the couple crossed the open space between stations. One glance backward would have revealed him to them. Even when they were inside the depot, he didn’t dare make his move. He would have been easily spotted through the windows.
Looking around for some way to cross the line of tracks, he spotted a slow-moving luggage cart. It was some distance away but was heading in the right direction. He sprinted the short distance to the cart and kept it between himself and the station until he saw a chance to run from it to the side of the building. A sign between the rafters read “Missouri, Kansas and Texas.”
Jake leaned against the wall, wondering how long he would have to wait, praying that they hadn’t left this station for another one. He looked back up at the sign. The M. K. T. angled slightly west of north or east of south. Was Berkeley taking his Emily to Mexico? Or Canada? Or was he heading for another hub in Junction City? Lord, if he lost them, it would be difficult to pick up their trail again.
The waiting was wearing on his admittedly short patience. He needed to know he hadn’t lost them. He hazarded a peek around the side of the building. There was little activity on the platform. And no sign of Emily.
He stepped cautiously onto the platform, keeping close to the wall. No one took notice of him while he lounged against the wall, thinking. He needed to remain out of sight of the window yet get close enough to glance through it, all the while doing nothing to draw the other travelers’ attention. He slid the saddlebags off his shoulder and rested them on the floor beside him, hoping that made him look more relaxed.
As he was about to ease toward the window, Anson Berkeley stepped through the door. Jake’s muscles tensed, preparing to dive off the platform and out of sight. But, as Emily did not follow, he remained still. Berkeley, after all, didn’t know him.
From under the brim of his hat, Jake watched Berkeley motion to one of the boys loitering near the station.
“Here, boy,” Berkeley said. “I’ll give you a nickel if you’ll trot over to the nearest restaurant and bring back two dinners.”
“Boxed for the train, sir?” inquired the boy.
“Yes, yes. And be quick about it. We don’t have all day.”
“Right away, sir.”
The boy turned, but before he could go, Berkeley caught up a handful of loose cotton shirt and hauled the boy back around. “Mind you come back, hear? I’ll turn you over to the law if you run off with my money.”
The startled boy shook his head. “Don’t worry, mister.”
Berkeley let him go, brushing off his hands and clothes as he watched him dart away. Berkeley turned to reenter the depot. His eyes fell on Jake.
Jake pulled his hat down a little lower and crossed his arms against his chest, pretending to rest. After no more than a couple of seconds, Berkeley turned away. Once he was back inside, Jake let out a sigh of relief. They were here. The train wasn’t expected immediately or he wouldn’t be ordering dinner.
After a few minutes, Jake lifted his saddlebags and jumped off the platform, sitting on the ground beside the building. Remaining on the platform was too risky. At any moment Emily could decide to step outside.
Berkeley’s request of the boy reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the wee hours of the morning. He retrieved a can of peaches from his saddlebags and opened it with his knife. He used the same knife as a fork and ate them slowly, his ear tuned toward the platform.
He would wait. He would jump on the train at the last minute as he had done before, a car behind the couple, if possible. He would buy a ticket to whatever stop the conductor deemed necessary, then watch Emily from the back of the car. When they got off, he would get off.
He wasn’t exactly sure what he would do after that. Arresting Berkeley now and taking him back to Topeka sounded very appealing but would, no doubt, make Emily the fugitive’s strongest champion. The idea of waiting until he hurt or frightened her made his stomach turn. He thought of the boy’s fright when Berkeley threatened him and imagined the same expression on Emily’s beautiful face.
The sides of the tin can compressed under his fingers, and he loosened his grip. He wouldn’t let Berkeley hurt her. He would stay too close for that to happen. He would find some way to arrest Berkeley without losing Emily in the process.
He almost laughed at himself. When had he started thinking of her as
his to lose? Hadn’t he decided that he wasn’t worthy of her, either? Evidently somewhere deep inside he hadn’t been convinced.
Emily looked up from her book and watched Anson pace across the room. It had seemed a little silly to tuck the novel she had started into the carpetbag to take up precious space, but now she was glad she had done it. If only Anson would settle down and let her read.
Every third time he passed in front of her he demanded to know where the boy was with their dinners. It did nothing to help her forget her hunger. Once she had even offered to let him read her book, but he had only grunted and resumed his pacing. When he was in one of his moods, it was best to ignore him.
She tried to return her attention to the novel. It was one of Lynnette’s, a copy signed by “Silver Nightingale” herself. Her heroes were all fairly rugged men; this one was a frontier sheriff. She found herself picturing Jake as the lead, no matter how many times his hair was described as blond.
Anson paused in front of her again. She waited a second before she lifted her eyes from the book. She tried to put a questioning smile on her lips.
“Where in the hell is that boy?”
Emily sighed. “Anson, the restaurants are probably busy this time of day. You said yourself we had plenty of time.” Time enough for Anson to have gone for the dinners himself.
“I’m only thinking of you,” he snapped. “You were about to faint from hunger when we got off the train.”
“I think it was the motion as much as hunger that bothered me,” she said, affecting a patience she didn’t feel. “I’m right enough now, though I will enjoy the dinner when it comes. And it will come, Anson.”
Her smile didn’t placate him. He began his pacing again. Once across the room. Twice across the room. Emily reread the last three paragraphs, getting no more out of them this time than she had the last. She was practically holding her breath when Anson stopped in front of her again. She barely stifled a groan.
“He’s stolen my money, the little—”
“Anson!” The sharpness in her voice surprised him into silence. She took a calming breath. “Go pace outside, and let me read.”
Without a moment’s hesitation he snatched the book out of her hands and flung it across the room. Emily leaped to her feet to retrieve it only to be pushed back into the chair. “You could show a little more sympathy,” he hissed, “instead of wasting your time on drivel. It’s reading tripe like that that’s got you so hot to be married.”
He turned his back on her and resumed his pacing. Emily came slowly to her feet, her eyes on Anson. When he didn’t give her another glance, she walked purposefully toward the crumpled book. She lifted it carefully and smoothed the pages and cover with loving hands. It was a stronger link to her past than she had realized.
Without another look toward Anson, she moved to the door, stepping out onto the narrow platform. She had flung off her cloak when she had entered the depot. Without it, she could feel the cool air penetrate her many layers of clothing. It wasn’t so cold that she needed it for the few minutes she planned to remain outside. The chill air helped to cool her temper, as well.
Anson was right. She should be more sympathetic. They had no money to spare, and he had ordered the dinners mainly for her. She, in turn, had buried her nose in a book and left it all for him to worry about. She was even hiding some money from him. Yet…
She had the strongest impression that someone was watching her. She took a quick glance around at the others on the platform. Everyone seemed occupied with their own concerns. Yet the feeling persisted.
Perhaps Anson was watching from the window or door, waiting for her to return and make up. She wanted to let him wait Maybe this time he should come to her and apologize. After all, he had thrown the book and made himself the most annoying pest possible. With a sigh she admitted he would never see it that way. She had provoked him.
She caught a glimpse of movement far to her right. She turned, but no one was there. Perhaps someone had moved along the side of the building. Or someone was hiding there. She felt her skin prickle. She had no desire to investigate.
She was getting cold after all, she decided. As she turned to reenter the building, a young boy, carrying two white boxes, stepped up onto the platform. The boy Anson had hired, she hoped, giving him a smile as she preceded him inside.
Anson stopped pacing to scowl at her. His face didn’t brighten when he noticed the boy behind her. “You, there. It’s about time.”
“Came as fast as I could, sir. A little more money mighta made the cooks work faster, I reckon.”
“Oh you do, do you? The promise of a coin didn’t make you move faster.” He took the boxes from the boy, handing one to Emily. Ignoring the boy, he took his own to a chair and sat, preparing to eat
“I worked hard for you, mister,” the boy said, loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the room. “You promised a nickel.”
Anson took a bite of fried chicken. “You took too long,” he mumbled around the food.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Emily put the box aside. From the little reticule that dangled from her waist she pulled a handkerchief, then rummaged for the coin. Afraid Anson would try to stop her, she hurried to the boy. “Thank you very much,” she said softly. “I’m most grateful for your help.”
“Thanks, pretty lady,” he said, giving Anson one last scowl before he turned and ran from the room.
“You’re too softhearted,” Anson said, grinning at her.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him her warmest smile. “And you’re a tightfisted grouch.”
“Thank you, my dear. I’m so glad we understand each other.”
He winked at her, and she giggled. He was being charming again. “It’s a wonder what a little food does for your disposition,” she said.
“Ah, yes. And what a little charity does for yours.”
She decided to ignore him and concentrate on the food. She was so hungry she was afraid of eating it too quickly. She wasn’t sure how much time they had left before the train came. Anson was never specific with information like that. He would take care of her; she didn’t need to know.
The food was greasy, though still slightly warm, and there seemed to be plenty of it. She ate it slowly, pausing often to give her stomach time to settle. She didn’t want to disgrace herself by retching in a public place. Her stomach had been very sensitive lately.
She had finished the meal and was dreaming about lemonade when she heard the train whistle. “Is that one ours?” she asked, coming to her feet.
“Yes. Get your things. I’ll be glad to get out of here.”
They waited on the platform while the incoming passengers disembarked. That sense of being watched came over Emily again. She looked around, trying to determine the cause. No one was paying either her or Anson any mind, and she decided it was her imagination playing on her sense of guilt for running away. In some deep part of her heart, she must wish someone had followed.
She shrugged it off and followed Anson onto the train. He chose a seat near the front of the car, stepping back to let her sit beside the window. She didn’t want Anson to catch her nervousness and refrained from speaking as they waited for the train to move. But the uneasiness didn’t leave her even after the train lurched into motion.
It was her conscience watching her, she decided. She had stolen from her brother, lied to those she loved. But, she reminded herself, she had had little choice. Perhaps if her body was more comfortable so too would be her conscience. She stood and shrugged out of the warm cloak. As she folded it into a cushion for her head she glimpsed a familiar figure in the back of the car.
Jake!
Chapter Six
Emily turned and sat so quickly she was sure she bruised her hip. What was Jake doing on the train? His hat had been low over his face, and she was sure he hadn’t seen her. But of course he had seen her! Why else would he be here except to follow her? He had been watching her at Emporia.
I
t occurred to her that he might be another example of her overactive imagination. She wanted to look again to be sure. She couldn’t make herself move. Perhaps it was best if he didn’t know that she knew he was following her. Oh Lord! She couldn’t think. Part of her traitorous heart was singing, “He followed me! He followed me!”
“What’s wrong, baby?” Anson asked.
“Nothing.” She said it too quickly. He would know she was lying. She leaned against the seat, pretending to try to sleep.
Was that really Jake behind her? And what if it was? Why should she be glad he followed? She should be terrified. Wasn’t Anson her only hope for a future—for herself and her baby?
She had to know if she had really seen him. She squirmed in the seat, hoping she looked as if she were trying to get comfortable. After a moment she stood, adjusting her cloak over the seat back. She made the briefest of glances toward the back of the car.
She was turning and regaining her seat even as her brain sorted out the image. Jake was there, trying his best not to be seen. He was slouched low in his seat, his hat pulled down over his eyes. But she didn’t need to see his eyes to recognize him. She recognized the dark brown hat and coat, the very shape of his shoulders. She felt him, had felt him even at the station in Emporia.
Anson was eyeing her speculatively. She tried again to pretend to sleep, but he wouldn’t allow it. Leaning close he asked quietly, “You saw someone, didn’t you?”
She shook her head.
His hand closed around her upper arm. “Don’t lie to me. Who is it?”
She hated Anson when he was angry. He terrified her. “It’s Jake,” she whispered quickly. “Jake Prescott. He’s just a friend.”
“Perhaps it’s a coincidence, him being on the train.” His eyes were boring into hers, and she couldn’t turn away. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
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