by Jo Goodman
Rennie was more than halfway to reaching Jarret when she saw him tumble. She saw the fallen pine, realized Zilly was going to make the leap, but never thought it would be the thing to unseat Jarret. He came away from his mount as if the saddle and reins had suddenly been greased.
By the time she reached him Zilly had calmed and wandered back to where Jarret lay. The mare leaned her head over the tree and tried to nudge Jarret awake. Rennie knelt at Jarret's side and pushed Zilly's nose forcefully out of the way. The mare took the direction and meandered away.
His breathing was shallow but even, and Rennie found his pulse easily. She shook him gently several times, saying his name. When he didn't respond she took off her gloves and removed his hat. Her fingers delved into his hair as she carefully felt for bumps or breaks in his skin. She found a large goose egg just behind his right ear. The little bit of blood didn't worry her; the size of the swelling did. At that moment she would have given everything she owned for a bit of her sister Maggie's healing knowledge. It seemed to Rennie that being an engineer made her a fish out of water everywhere but in the Worth building—and lately even there.
The wreckage they were trying to reach was still a good distance from where they were, though now the way was mostly flat. Rennie knew she couldn't lift Jarret, and neither could she leave him where he lay. She considered making camp right there, but Jay Mac's private car kept coming to her as a better alternative.
After assuring herself that Jarret had no other obvious injuries, Rennie rolled him carefully onto a blanket and covered him with others. Working swiftly, she built a small fire that would keep some of the chill at bay. She tethered Zilly and the packhorse and mounted Albion. The mare covered the ground quickly to the site of the wreckage.
Rennie knew she was not going to find her father inside his private car, so she did not steel herself before entering. She wasn't prepared for the rush of emotion any more than she was ready for an environment gone slightly awry. Both of them made her gasp.
Rennie held on to the door to maintain her balance. The car was more than a few degrees off level, held from tipping over by the row of sturdy ponderosas. Everything in the car that wasn't secured had fallen to one side. The things that were secured, like the bed and dining table, were just enough at an angle to be disorienting. Rennie found herself tilting her head in an effort to diminish the dizzying sensation.
There was nothing so simple she could do about the rush of emotion. This was her father's place, and she had never been in it save in his presence. It didn't seem it should exist outside his presence. Had the car been perfectly level, she would have still felt the nauseating disorientation.
Tears blinded her briefly, and when she lifted one hand to brush them away she slid a little on the uneven floor. She kept herself upright by holding on to the door and bracing her other hand against a secured end table. Making her way across the length of the car was like walking on a ship permanently listing from the windward side.
The Franklin-style heating stove was the purpose of her trip. It was cast at the same odd angle as everything else, but when she checked its hinges and seams everything seemed to be in order. The vent pipe was intact, and Rennie could see no reason for not using it. It would provide Jarret with the warmest night he'd had since leaving Echo Falls.
Now she only had to get him to it.
The caboose had the things she needed. Because it was on its side she had to go through a broken side window and drop in. She brushed snow off the storage chest and found an ax, hammer, nails, and rope. They were the tools she needed immediately. She also removed a crowbar and four wrenches with varying handle lengths and different size box ends. Her efforts at pushing open either end door from the inside proved useless. Snow blocked both exits, and the hinges were on the outside. After tossing all the tools she needed through the window, Rennie dragged the storage bench under it, stood on it, and hauled herself through the opening.
Once on the outside she set about clearing one of the doors of snow and ice. Rennie used the hammer to tap out the hinge pins and remove it altogether, then she took off the door handle. She drove nails into the door's top rail so that half their length was exposed and attached the rope ends securely. She pulled on the rope handle, and with a little effort the door glided across the snow.
"Not bad for a sled and stretcher," she said to herself. Rennie slung the rope around the pommel of her saddle, making certain there was enough length to keep the door from chipping at Albion's fetlocks. She mounted and urged the mare forward, using her legs to guide the horse while her hands controlled the slack on the sled. After a little trial and error, Rennie was able to keep the door from slipping too much to either side.
By her own estimation she hadn't been gone much above thirty minutes. Jarret was still unconscious. Rennie touched his forehead with the back of her hand, and then his chest. He had lost only a little body heat, and she grew more confident that her worst fears would not come to pass.
Rennie used the blankets like a ramp to roll Jarret onto the sled. She secured him with ropes from their own supplies. Surveying her handiwork she was struck by the fact he was trussed up like Gulliver. "Wait until you wake up in the private car," she told him. "You'll think you've arrived in some fiendish version of Lilliput."
She sighed when he didn't answer her. "All right, Zilly," she said, untethering the mare. "It's your turn to pull." Grabbing the mare's cheek strap, she held Zilly's head steady and gave her a stern look. Zilly didn't move. It wasn't the technique Jarret used to calm the skittish mare, but it worked for Rennie. "As long as we understand each other," she said.
Getting Jarret back to the car was not the hardest part of the task that Rennie faced. She had to get him inside. Rennie judged the hours of daylight left and decided that she could not take the time to build another fire. She made certain Jarret was bundled and sheltered from the wind, then gathered her tools and went back to the caboose.
After examining the exposed wheels on the caboose, she chose to remove the one least damaged by the crash. The groove that had held the track was still smoothly curved, not flattened as it might have been. If the brakeman had had any warning of what was going to happen, there would have been an effort to apply the handbrakes. A heavy hand would have resulted in flattened wheels, but probably not altered the fate of the passengers. Now the smooth wheel groove would help save Jarret's life.
It took more in the way of brute strength than cleverness to accomplish the task. What Rennie wasn't able to achieve with the long-handled iron wrenches, she was finally able to do with the crowbar. When the wheel was off she rolled it over to the private car.
It was too difficult to work in her heavy coat, and her efforts had already overheated her. Rennie took it off and laid it over Jarret. Standing on the slanted balcony at one end of the car, Rennie reached as high as she was able and drove a spike halfway into the wall just above the door. The wheel was heavy, but not as awkward to lift as Jarret would have been. Still, Rennie knew she had one, possibly two, chances to thread its center hole with the spike. She probably wouldn't have the strength to lift it after that. It didn't help her confidence when she considered how much trouble she had threading a needle.
She hoisted the metal wheel in her gloved hands, braced it on the balcony railing for a moment, then raised it over her head. She felt the spike catch the hole, then felt the wheel slip. It flashed through her mind that she was not very good at hanging pictures either. The wire never seemed to catch the nail. Swearing sometimes helped.
Rennie heaved again, turning the air blue with her colorfully vulgar and descriptive language. This time the spike held the wheel. It was left to her to find a nut that would keep the wheel from spinning off the spike as it turned. There was nothing that fit exactly right, but Rennie improvised by using a nut that was slightly larger than the spike and making it tight with small wedged-shaped pieces of wood that acted as shims. Tentatively she spun the wheel. It stayed firmly in place.
A double pulley system would have been better, she thought, but her single one would have to do.
Rennie arranged Jarret in a sling of blankets and rope; then she ran the length of rope over the groove in the wheel and fastened the end to Zilly's saddle. She opened the door to the car so that it would be easy to swing Jarret inside once Zilly started to walk forward. The problem was getting Zilly to move while Rennie guided Jarret's sling.
Rennie solved it by tossing a few stones at Zilly's hindquarters. Jarret was dragged toward the car the moment the mare lurched forward. Rennie steadied the sling and encouraged Zilly to keep moving. Jarret bumped against the balcony's iron steps. Rennie protected his head. The wheel above her groaned as Jarret was lifted off the ground. Zilly moved ahead. Jarret was jerked higher, and this time Rennie was able to get her arms under him, cradling his unconscious form. She called to the mare again, and now Jarret was lifted as high as her waist. Rennie eased him toward the open door and jerked on the taut rope, bringing Zilly back.
It took a few more minutes of alternately pleading with the horse and cursing her for Rennie to get Jarret lowered to the floor of the car. When he was down she cut the sling free.
Rennie now had him inside, but she didn't have him warm. As soon as she tethered Zilly she cut wood for the stove and built a fire. Once she boarded two shattered windows with strips of wood from the caboose, the car began to heat. Rennie was of no mind to bring Jarret to the bed. She brought the bed to him, laying out the mattress in the same direction as the slope in the floor so that he couldn't roll and hurt himself. After untying the knots that secured him, Rennie rolled Jarret carefully onto the mattress.
It took all her emotional strength not to simply collapse beside him.
Making him as comfortable as she could, Rennie then took care of the horses, giving special attention to Zilly, who was lathered from the labor. Rennie carried in their supplies, stacking them against one wall. She was just finishing with the last of them when the sun went down. Twilight didn't last long. Rennie found two oil lamps minus their glass globes. They required a level place to rest, so she remounted a shelf on the wall. The effect was quite peculiar. The shelf was parallel to the ground beneath the car, but askew of everything else in the room.
Rennie laid the hammer aside and lighted the lamps. She worked for another two hours, clearing broken glass and damaged, unusable items. She became adept at walking the length and breadth of the car without faltering, though she imagined she looked rather less attractive than a mountain goat. Finally, because she was too tired to walk to the nearby stream, she melted snow for drinking water and lay down beside Jarret when she had her fill.
She bathed his face with the remainder and then let the pot slide away. Covering herself with the blankets, Rennie curled closer to Jarret than she had on any previous night since beginning the journey. Laying one arm across his waist, she rested her head against his shoulder.
When she fell asleep, exhausted almost beyond bearing, it would have been difficult for an observer to tell who was the more unconscious.
Jarret woke in the middle of the night. He had no clear idea where he was. He remembered the last moments of the wild ride on Zilly's back and nothing after she jumped the fallen pine. He wondered why he was sleeping on a slant, why his entire body felt bruised, and why Rennie was close enough for him to feel her heartbeat. Her heartbeat was a soothing thing. He had no trouble falling asleep again.
* * *
Rennie felt a chill prickle her skin. It was surprising because she realized she was under a mound of blankets. Even the air was warm. It didn't seem to matter. The cold started bone deep and rose only as far as the surface of her skin. It never seeped out of her completely. In moments she was shaking uncontrollably.
Jarret laid his palm against her face. Her jaw was clenched, yet somehow Rennie's teeth still chattered. Under the roughened pads of his fingers he could feel the muscle ticking in her jaw. It went on for several minutes before she fell into a restless, shallow sleep. The damp cloth he held in his hand was useless against her chill.
Standing, Jarret dropped the cloth back in the pot of water he had placed on the car's only level shelf. He knew how it had come to be that way. Rennie's cleverness made him smile.
In the past twenty-four hours he had seen a lot of Rennie's handiwork: the boarded windows, the stacked supplies, the door that had doubled as a sled, the tended horses, and oddest of all, the caboose wheel above the door. It took him a while to figure that one out, probably longer, he thought, than it had taken Rennie to conceive and construct it.
Looking down at her pale face, Jarret's smile turned grim. All of Rennie's efforts on his behalf had resulted in her own illness. The irony would not be lost on her. It was merely one more of her best intentions gone awry. He sighed. "You, sweet lady, might have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but it's a sure bet it was tarnished."
He left the car and tended to the meal he was preparing outside. The stove was good for heating, but it didn't work for cooking. When Rennie was better he looked forward to asking her why she hadn't corrected that small problem. She certainly had set about fixing everything else.
Jarret ate his beans and bread sitting in a chair propped against the canted wall. When he was done he spooned warm tea past Rennie's bluish-tinged lips. Afterward, because he thought he could tend to her better, Jarret moved Rennie and mattress back to the built-in bed frame. When he tried to put the covers back on she kicked them off. She was no longer shaking; her skin was on fire.
Retrieving the wet cloth, Jarret wiped damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. He smoothed it over the unnatural glow of her face. The sheen of clammy perspiration touched her upper lip. He wiped it away also.
Her nightshift became damp, and he exchanged it for one of his shirts. Aware of his attentions, Rennie pushed weakly at his hands as they fastened the buttons. "Don't touch me," she said.
"I won't." Jarret watched Rennie's hands slip to her side. Her agitation disappeared. She seemed satisfied with his promise even though he was still closing the shirt. He stayed with her until she slept again.
* * *
Rennie woke slowly. Her lashes lifted, fluttered, and closed again. She stretched tentatively, groaning with the effort of her movements and the deeply felt aches. Turning on her side, she slipped one arm under her head and opened her eyes. A small wave of nausea accompanied her disorientation.
The private car no longer listed to one side; only the shelf had been left hanging on the wall at an angle. The oil lamps had been placed on the perfectly level dining table and most of the room's contents returned to the positions they were meant to have. That Jarret had left the shelf canted proved he still had a sense of humor, even if it was at her expense.
It was a small movement at the end of the bed that gave his presence away. Rennie's attention shifted. Her disorientation returned, more profound this time, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the tilt of the shelf or the lack of it in the bed. She said the first thing that came to her mind: "You're smiling."
Jarret realized that he was. His grin deepened at her observation. He leaned forward and touched the back of his hand to her forehead. Her skin was dry, her temperature no different from his own. "You'd think I'd never done it before," he said.
"You haven't." Her voice was soft and raspy from lack of use, hardly recognizable as her own. "At least not in recent memory."
The tips of his fingers trailed along her cheek. "That so?"
She nodded. She felt his fingers drop away from her face, touch her shoulder briefly, and then leave her altogether. She experienced an odd sense of loss. Aware she was staring at his hand, Rennie deliberately shifted her attention to other parts of the room. "You've been very busy," she said. "You righted the car."
"Noticed that, did you?"
His gentle teasing raised her own smile. "How did you do it?"
"You'd be amazed at what three horses and a jackass pulling in the same
direction can accomplish."
"A jackass?"
"Me."
She studied his face. His grin had disappeared. The set of his mouth was solemn, the deep blue eyes unwavering. "Are you apologizing for something?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I'm apologizing for everything."
Two faint lines appeared between Rennie's brows as she frowned. "I don't think I understand," she said.
"Self-pity's a cancer on the soul," Jarret said. "I nearly lost mine." He smoothed the twin lines between her eyes with his thumb. His smile returned. "Do I have to list all my transgressions before you'll accept an apology?"
"No," she said. An abrupt yawn dislodged his hand, and she was sorry for that. "You just have to tell me if I'm dead or dreaming." His laughter was so unexpected and so unfamiliar to her that Rennie's eyes widened a little before they closed completely. "I'm dreaming I'm dead," she murmured. "That must be what's happened."
Jarret had planned to tell her differently, but he saved his breath. She fell asleep as suddenly as she had wakened.
Chapter 10
It was dusk when Rennie woke again. This time the car was empty. She sat up, pulling the heaviest blanket around her shoulders. The floor of the car was cold on her bare feet, but the air was warm. She padded over to the stove, threw in some wood, and then warmed her hands in front of the fire before shutting the grate. Straightening, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.
The unbroken windows of the private car were frosted, so the image outside was a blur. Rennie placed the flat of her hand against the frozen pane and melted the ice. She stared through the clear, dewy outline of her palm print.
Jarret's fingers were stiff with cold. He twisted Rennie's wet nightshift, wringing out the water, then laid it over a rock. He bent beside the swiftly rushing stream again, catching one of his own shirts before it was swept away. He washed it quickly, wrung it out, then gathered up the pile of iced laundry and started back to the car.