Alfred Bannon appeared from the middle of the crowd with Miller at his side. Both men were clapping. “We just wanted to thank you for helping us solve a murder and get the train moving again.” Alfred beamed at them.
They walked up the steps, Sarah moving slower than Whitman had ever seen her. He knew he was the cause and wanted to take her pain away, but he had no idea how.
By the time they made it to the train car, the other passengers had begun getting on the train. Alfred was waiting for them.
Surprisingly, he gave Sarah a hug and Whitman a hearty slap on the back and a handshake. “You two have made my life more interesting. I’ll be keeping an eye on you the rest of the trip.”
“Thank you, Alfred.” Sarah nodded to him, her face pale.
“Let’s get Sarah on board so she can rest. She’s been through so much.” Whitman set the bags down.
“Oh, of course, of course.” The conductor moved aside with a smile. “Your compartment is cleaned and ready.”
Knowing she’d protest, Whitman scooped her up in his arms for the last time and carried her onto the train. Sarah’s scent washed over him, reminding him of what he’d already lost. He gritted his teeth against the wash of emotions.
When he set her on the seat, she grabbed his arm. Whitman met her gaze and saw what he didn’t want to see.
A good-bye.
Sarah watched as Whitman stored her bags, then bowed to her as a gentleman.
“I’ll be in the public car if you need me.” He left without another word, leaving Sarah in a pool of misery.
Why did Whitman have to be a Yankee? A soldier? A member of the very platoon that had left her crippled?
She curled up on the seat and hugged her knees, rocking back and forth. Her mother had predicted what would happen. Told young Sarah time and time again about how unattractive, gangly, stupid, and so on she was. No man would want Sarah Spalding.
It was a blessing the soldier had crippled her, of course. Then she could have a valid excuse as to why she never married. It never occurred to Vivian Spalding that a man might want to marry Sarah because he loved her.
The war and its aftermath had destroyed so much, and now it seemed it reached out years later and snatched what could have been a happy ever after for Sarah. The compartment door slid open.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Lorenzo asked hesitantly.
“As long as you don’t fart or snore, you can come in.” Sarah found her sarcasm was still around.
Lorenzo smiled, his handsome olive-toned face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Grazie, amore. I don’t want to intrude on you and your husband.”
Sarah’s heart clenched and it took monumental effort not to scream at her friend. “He’s not joining me in the compartment. Don’t ask why or you won’t be either.”
Lorenzo held up one hand and sat down without another word. Sarah should be glad she wasn’t completely alone, but yet, she also didn’t want company. Self-pity was so much better when she was alone.
The train picked up speed and soon they were well on their way again. The miles flew past, leaving Sarah to wonder just what would happen when they arrived in Kansas City in a few days. Would Whitman simply leave without saying good-bye?
Or would he ask her to stay with him?
Whitman had never felt so numb, so completely drained of everything. All he wanted to do was sleep for a week, try to forget the crazy train wreck his life had become.
The public car was noisy, smoky, and it smelled as expected. Too many bodies, too many reasons for body odor. Whitman ignored it as best he could and garnered himself a window seat.
If the other passengers were surprised to see him there, they didn’t ask him about it. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Alfred Bannon why he wasn’t in his compartment with his wife.
His wife.
If only it had been true. Whit could have avoided so much misery, but, of course, Sarah wouldn’t have known about his army background and his deep, black secret.
Now she did, and now she hated him.
Whit had barely spared a thought for Melissa, the innocent fiancée waiting for him in Kansas City. He owed her an explanation, and an apology. He only hoped his wire to her about the delay on the train had reached her.
The wedding was supposed to be in two days which meant he’d arrive more than a day late. Perhaps that was the way it was supposed to be. He’d cause Melissa nothing but misery if he married her.
Or maybe the opposite was true. Perhaps she’d heal his broken heart and teach him to love again.
And perhaps pigs could fly.
Whitman closed his eyes against the noise and tried to find a place deep within himself to retreat. He couldn’t be with Sarah, and he didn’t want to be with a train full of strangers.
“Mr. Kendrick?”
Whit opened his eyes to find an elderly gentleman with wavy white hair, a monocle, and an impeccable suit. “Yes?”
“My name is Mortimer Carmichael. I own this railroad and I wanted to personally thank you for apprehending the man who murdered one of my passengers.” He held out his hand and Whitman shook it, a bit reluctantly.
“My wife, that is, Sarah, was the one who stopped him, not me.” He didn’t want to lie to the man.
“I’ve already spoken to her and she assures me that you were the hero. Please join me in my private car on your journey west. I insist.” Carmichael smiled and gestured to the huge man behind him. “Portman will carry your bags for you.”
Whitman had been looking for an escape from reality and Mr. Carmichael offered it to him. He’d be a fool to refuse.
“Thank you, sir, I believe I will.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lorenzo helped Sarah off the train that evening. The sky was a beautiful painting of orange, pink, purple, and yellow as the sun slipped down. She should appreciate the bounty of nature before her, but sadly, she was still stuck in a rut of self-pity.
The hotel was nothing special, the desk clerk didn’t greet her with a smile, and the evening passed with Sarah in her room feeling sorry for herself.
Life continued on for two more days, full of bland, colorless existence. Now that they were in Kansas City, Sarah knew it would be the last time she’d ever see Whitman.
She’d seen him a few times and he always tipped his hat and was achingly polite. Yet Sarah had ignored him, choosing instead to hide behind a wall of anger and resentment.
“You drive me crazy, you know?” Lorenzo had apparently decided he’d had enough. He threw up his hands and paced the compartment while she put away her book. “You are like a ghost. Nobody is there when I talk to you.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are so dramatic, Lorenzo. I’m just tired is all. I’ll feel better the closer we get to Colorado.”
“Ha! You lie and you know it. I thought perhaps I could help you forget him, but no, it not happen. You love him, Sarah.” Lorenzo took a deep breath. “Don’t let him go.”
She knew it cost her friend a great deal to say that to her. He’d been wanting to keep her for himself for more than three years.
Sarah cupped his cheek. “You are so sweet, but you know there’s no way I can keep him. He has a fiancée, and aside from that, he’s a Yankee soldier.”
Lorenzo proceeded to curse in Italian, vehemently, while Sarah watched openmouthed. “You are a fool. He loves you, you love him. What does it matter who fought for who? Love doesn’t care.”
He snatched her bags along with his own and stomped to the compartment door. When he turned to look at her, Lorenzo was actually glowering.
Sarah was so shocked, she meekly followed him out, her cane thumping on the platform.
When she saw the tiny woman in yellow embracing Whitman, Sarah wanted to crawl back onto the train and hide. All the blood drained from her face as she looked at what the future held for Whitman.
Melissa was a beautiful, petite brunette with a nice smile and ample breasts. Whitman smiled down at her a
nd Sarah’s ears rang.
“Come, amore, let’s be away from here. You no listen to me anymore. I am crazy in the head.” He tried to pull her away, but Sarah wouldn’t budge.
She stared at Whitman, willing him to look at her. Finally he did, and Sarah regretted her impulse. Lorenzo had been right and Sarah had been a fool.
Whitman had loved her, but she’d thrown it away with hate and prejudice. Now he was going to start his life anew, deservedly so, and leave Sarah behind.
She limped over to him and held out her trembling hand. “I wish you good luck, good fortune, and a happy life, Mr. Kendrick.” Her voice was thick with emotion, but she held her back straight, dammit.
Lorenzo appeared by her side and nodded at Whitman. “Good luck, signore. And to you as well, signorina. We must go.”
“Good-bye, Sarah.” Whitman squeezed her hand, sending a shiver up her arm. “I wish you nothing but happiness.”
Sarah nodded, unable to respond. Tears pooled in her eyes when she turned to Melissa, the woman who would be the real Mrs. Kendrick.
“Take care of him or I’ll come find you and kick your ass.”
With that Sarah turned and left her heart on the train depot platform in Kansas City, along with an openmouthed woman. It was time to start living again.
Melissa stared at Sarah’s retreating back. “Did she just say what I think she did?”
Whit managed a rusty chuckle. “You have to know Sarah to understand it, but yes, she did.”
Sarah had just shown more class and dignity than any person he’d ever met. It had cost her dearly, but she’d said good-bye for good. Her actions told Whitman Sarah had gotten through the hurt and shock to a place where she could puzzle out her choices.
And she didn’t choose Whitman.
He picked up his traveling case. “My trunk should be out soon. Why don’t we sit down and talk? I have a lot to tell you.”
Melissa smiled prettily. “Why of course, Whitman, whatever you say.”
Whitman forced himself not to look back at Sarah or he’d never have the courage to face what he had to do.
They sat down on the bench and Melissa fluffed her skirt to cover her ankles. Then she folded her hands and looked up at Whitman. “I’m ready.”
“It all began in Virginia when I boarded the train and found myself in a compartment with the woman you just met—Sarah Spalding—and another woman named Mavis Ledbetter,” Whitman began his tale.
Sarah didn’t sleep a wink that evening, knowing that Whitman was somewhere in town with his new bride. She needed to start forgetting him instead of remembering him.
She threw back the covers and pulled on her dress. Damn, she needed a drink and a smoke.
The saloon in town was called Tootin’ House, and she didn’t really want to know why. There were men aplenty inside as well as the standard saloon girls working the room. The bartender was a bald, husky man with a patch over one eye.
He looked like a pirate, for pity’s sake.
Sarah made her way to the bar and climbed onto the stool. Her leg had been better since Whitman’s massage, but it appeared even her flesh required daily doses of his magic. Too bad she’d never get it again.
“Whiskey, and not the cheap rotgut you give these idiots. I want the good stuff.” Sarah laid a gold eagle on the counter.
The bartender’s bushy brows rows. “Yes, ma’am.”
She slung back the whiskey, closing her eyes against the burn as it slid down her throat. “Damn that was good. Give me another.”
The last person she expected to see in the saloon was Alfred Bannon, but he sat down beside her.
“Hello, Sarah.”
“Alfred, what are you doing here?” She sipped the next whiskey, not wanting to get falling-down drunk when she had to get on the train in six hours.
“Same as you, I suppose. Finding an escape.” He sighed and laid down a fifty-cent piece. “Beer.”
They drank in silence and Sarah found herself relaxing for the first time in days. Alfred had turned out to be more than she expected.
“Do you have a family, Alfred?”
He shook his head. “Nothing but my job, unfortunately.” He gave her a small smile.
“We’re pitiful, aren’t we?” Sarah found herself smiling back. “I had something wonderful and I threw it away.”
“You weren’t really married, were you?” Alfred peered at her.
“Legally, no, but in all other ways, yes.” It felt good to admit that to someone.
More than good, it felt liberating.
“He loves you and I think you love him. What happened?” Alfred took a long gulp of beer and looked at her expectantly.
“We found out our pasts wouldn’t let us have a future.” Sarah tossed back the rest of the whiskey. “As simple and as complicated as that.”
Alfred put his hand on hers. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”
She nodded. “So am I.”
They sat there talking for another hour, as the whiskey floated through her veins. Sarah knew she should go back to bed, but the stool was comfortable and the company was too.
“The train leaves early in the morning.” Sarah motioned to the bartender. “I should get to bed.” She realized it was likely two in the morning and the conductor was drinking beside her. “What are you still doing in the saloon?”
Alfred shook his head. “Kansas City is the last stop for me. I’m not working tomorrow. The train leaves Thursday morning for New York with me on board.”
“New York? Alfred, that’s wonderful.” Sarah hugged him, glad for his good fortune. “You got your dream.”
“Thanks to you and your hus—Mr. Kendrick. It happened that Mr. Carmichael, the owner of the train, heard about what I did from someone and he offered me the northern route yesterday.” This time the smile lit up his face. “I am off to my own adventure.”
Sarah wobbled a bit as she stood. “And a well-deserved adventure too. I’m so happy for you.”
And she was surprised she meant it. Alfred had been a stranger, a distrustful, strange portly man who threw suspicion on her a week ago. Now she considered him a friend, a lifelong friend, and she was genuinely pleased for his good fortune.
“Thank you.” Alfred took her hand and squeezed it. “I wish you only the happiness you deserve.”
Sarah smiled sadly. “Me too.”
“Let me help you to the hotel, Sarah.” He held out his arm. “It’s the least I can do.”
With her new friend at her side, Sarah made her way back to her room. At least someone who’d been on the train had come into good fortune.
Sarah headed for her lonely bed with her lonely heart and into her lonely future.
As the train pulled into Denver, Sarah had butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t know what her reception would be with Micah. It had been more than ten years since she’d seen him.
The memory of that day, the bloody day she’d lost not only her mother but the remnants of her innocence, haunted her dreams on occasion.
Micah had been wounded, both inside and out. From what she found out from his wife, he wasn’t expecting her. That alone set off an entire colony of butterflies.
It was dark outside and she planned on waiting until morning before renting a buggy to travel the last three hours to Plum Creek.
In the dark, Denver looked like every other city. Lorenzo peered out the window and back at her.
“I will do what you ask, amore. Are you all right?” He’d been a constant companion, a reminder of her past, but not a painful one. Since she’d left Kansas City, and Whitman behind, Sarah had come to terms with her decision.
She didn’t want to keep punishing herself for what she did and didn’t do. Alfred and Lorenzo had helped her realize the present was where she needed to live.
As they got off the train, the cool mountain air felt good on her face. It was a welcome change from what she’d grown up with, a heavy air that never seemed to lose its moisture.
�
�Is nice, no?” Lorenzo stepped out beside her. “I think I will like Colorado.”
Sarah smiled. “I think Colorado will like you.” She took his arm and they walked down the sidewalk to the hotel. “The porter is going to bring my trunk later. In the morning I’m going to Plum Creek.”
She didn’t ask Lorenzo what he planned to do, and she wasn’t going to ask him to come with her. It was time for him to make his own decisions.
“Do you want me to come with you to meet your brother?”
She expected the question. “No, I don’t.” Sarah stopped and touched his cheek. “You are an amazing friend and an extraordinary man. I wish you the best of luck in whatever you choose to do, but it won’t be with me.”
He closed his eyes and when he opened them, she saw he’d accepted her decision.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, amore, but I will miss you.” He pulled her close for a hug. “Will you spend the night with me?”
Sarah would have said yes if she hadn’t met Whitman, but she had, so she couldn’t be with another man. Probably not for a long time, if ever. “No, but I’ll give you a kiss and buy you supper.”
Lorenzo leaned down and kissed her softly. “I accept.”
Arm and arm, Sarah headed to the hotel to have the last supper with an old friend. Then in the morning, her new life would begin.
She’d never felt so scared or so alone.
The carriage ride to Plum Creek was uneventful, fortunately or not. It was different from the wild journey in a carriage she’d made with Whitman.
She cut that thought off before it could go anywhere. Sarah had spent a good deal of time thinking about Whitman and enough was enough. They’d both made their choices.
It had been before dawn when they left for the three-hour journey. She’d arrive before eight, her nerves and her courage on edge.
When the carriage stopped, Sarah looked outside at an average-looking small town. The streets were well swept and it had an air of pride to it. She was glad Micah had found such a place to live.
The door opened, revealing a blond man with a gleaming star on his vest. Although Sarah was still leery of any lawman, she gave this one the benefit of the doubt considering the bright smile on his face.
The Stranger's Secrets Page 19
