Whatever his excuse was, it could never undo all that disappointment.
“Are you well?”
Belinda looked up to see Amanda leaning forward and peering at her.
“You’ve lost your color,” Amanda said.
Belinda’s heart still thudded. Her pulse hammered in her neck.
“If you need something to eat, we have plenty.” Amanda gestured toward a covered basket at her feet. “Or some water, perhaps?”
Belinda shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you for your kind concern.” They would be in Cheyenne soon enough, and she could buy some simple food to bring back to the train.
She would not walk the aisles of the train again no matter how hard her leg cramped.
Hayden had watched for Belinda when he exited the train in Cheyenne. Railroad employees shifted baggage around, but Hayden had only the two small bags to keep track of—and Eloise. He murmured thanksgiving that she was a child content to stay where she belonged.
“Will the lady sit with us again on the new train?” Eloise asked.
“I didn’t ask what sort of ticket she had, but perhaps we’ll see her. It’s a long way across Wyoming.” Hayden reached for the girl’s hand. They barely had time to eat. The food establishment was efficient enough, but the sheer number of people determined to have a meal slowed service, and he feared the confusion of passengers changing lines from the Denver Pacific to the Union Pacific would make it easy to misplace a small child at the station.
“Are we going to sleep on the train?”
Hayden certainly hoped so. The climb through the mountains west of Cheyenne would be long and slow given what he knew of the grades, the heights of the peaks, and the length of the train. Then would come the descent into Ogden, Utah, where they would change tracks to the Central Pacific Railroad.
“You can put your head in my lap,” Hayden said, “and use your coat for a blanket.”
Eloise rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired already.”
The announcement didn’t surprise him. Though she seemed to sleep well the night before, the hours between going to bed and rising had been few for a child. Hayden stooped to pick her up, carrying the girl and two bags for the second time in one day. This time she gladly laid her head on his shoulder and pressed herself into his chest. While he walked, he again watched for Belinda. From Cheyenne, there was only one rail route to San Francisco. She would have to be on the next train, and he would find her.
Chapter 4
Belinda woke in her berth, stiff. Falling asleep had taken a long time, and the unfamiliar bed confined her in strange ways. Curtains provided privacy but didn’t shield her from the sound of people shifting in the aisles. While a lower berth was easier to get in and out of, an upper one would have provided more separation from motion beyond her private space. The berths themselves sometimes creaked in response to the sway and jolt of the train’s lumbering journey toward a mountain pass or the controlled descent on the other side.
But most of Belinda’s nocturnal restlessness was because she knew Hayden Fairbanks was on this train, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
Every time the train stopped for a meal, Hayden would be in the crowd pressing toward the restaurant.
If Belinda got up to stretch her legs, she risked running into him. She resolved again not to.
When she closed her eyes, she saw him standing there in the aisle with little Eloise looking up at both of them. She should never have promised the girl they would talk to her uncle about seeing a sleeping berth.
Except he wasn’t her uncle. At least Belinda didn’t think so.
Eventually, she slept.
When she woke on the morning two days before Christmas, Belinda expected to hear the porter moving around the car or an announcement that the train would stop soon for breakfast. Belinda wondered if the line for the washroom at the end of the sleeper was long. Perhaps the silence meant she woke before most of the other passengers. She might be able to wash up, dress quickly and be clear of the rush that was sure to happen before the train pulled into a town for breakfast. Belinda couldn’t remember which town was the scheduled stop. While she did not deny their rustic charm, the towns all looked alike to her. Laramee. Percy. Rawlings. Bitter Creek. What did it matter? The towns sprang up along the tracks with a few hundred people whose livelihoods depended on the railroads. Some had a decent hotel to accommodate travelers who preferred to break up their journey. All of them had perfected the process of feeding large groups of people rapidly while the train took on water and coal.
Belinda savored the morning quiet as she lay in her berth.
And then she sat bolt upright. Why was the train itself quiet? She heard no moving wheels, no whiz of iron bulk along smooth rails, no chug of the rods and pistons and cylinders that kept the train in motion.
She reached for the curtain over the window in her berth and pulled it aside.
Belinda saw a drifting wall of white where she should have seen the sun.
Hayden lifted the still-drowsy girl into his lap. With his head against the window and her head in his lap, they had slept reasonably well, but Hayden was not eager to spend too many nights upright on a moving train.
And Belinda. Her choice—knowing he was on the train—to keep herself wholly apart sliced through him with particular pain.
Especially now.
Through the night, as Hayden woke intermittently, he saw the snow begin and then thicken in the air and deepen on the ground. Straining against the growing storm, the train slowed gradually until it came to a stop.
And it was a storm. Hayden could see it was not simply a spectacular winter snow. As daylight broke, the heavy gray sky promised that crystalline moisture would continue to descend and obstruct the path of the locomotives, behind which crawled more than fifty passenger, mail, baggage, and supply cars. Whipped by the wind, ridges of white clung to the shape of the coach, unpredictably drifting against some windows while leaving others clear.
Passengers stood in the aisle perturbed, some of them looking at their watches. Behind Hayden, a baby cried. Under his hand on her shoulder, Eloise stirred.
“Look, Uncle, the snow!” She scrambled to turn around in his lap and press her face against the window. “I can’t see the ground at all.”
Hayden marveled at the wonder in her eyes. Eloise saw the novelty of mounding white without understanding how its presence would impede their travels. Even as he glanced at the distraught passengers rousing around them, Hayden envied Eloise.
“Isn’t it beautiful!” Eloise had both hands pressed against the glass now on either side of her face. “I can’t wait to tell Papa.”
Eloise hummed, a habit Hayden had already come to expect from her. He stroked her back, resisting the impulse to explain that the snow meant he couldn’t estimate when they would reach her aunt’s house—and he had no assurance Gerald would be there when they arrived.
A door at the front end of the coach opened, and a conductor came through, his hat and shoulders dusted with snow. The rear door opened almost simultaneously, sending a blast of cold air up the aisle.
“How long are we going to be stuck?” A man’s voice boomed out the question on everyone’s mind.
Hayden turned to see the man who’d entered at the rear standing rigid.
“Please remain calm.” The conductor looked around the coach. “We made reasonable progress through the night by using the snow plow attached to the front engine. However, the storm’s intensity increased rapidly in the last two hours.”
“How long?” the man repeated. “I have an important meeting in Ogden for business I must conclude before Christmas.”
“We have telegraphed for help,” the conductor said. “We need additional crews to help dig out around the engine and try to clear enough track to pick up momentum.”
“How long will it take them to get here?”
“That is difficult to estimate, sir. The storm seems to be abating, but travel remains challenging
. The snow is heavy and damp.”
“And you expect us to calmly sit here in the meantime?” Belligerence burgeoned in the man’s tone.
The conductor cleared this throat. “Yes, sir, that is exactly what we ask you all to do. Now, we do have some extra shovels. If any of the men would like to help move snow, that will make the job all the more expedient when the crews arrive.”
Eloise turned around. “Uncle, are you going to help move snow?”
Belinda’s stomach grumbled. She had not yet touched her sandwiches or apples, but under the circumstances she hesitated to satisfy her hunger too generously. The conductor had just come through with what Belinda thought was an honest assessment of circumstances—the truth being that no one knew how long the train would be stuck on the tracks or when the next opportunity to buy food would come.
She missed her morning cup of tea.
The porter had stowed the upper berths and converted the lower berths to day seats once again. From her position near the rear of the coach, Belinda returned a polite wave from Amanda Barrow, who was sitting several rows forward but facing the rear. Amanda’s basket of food was likely to prove more fortuitous than she’d imagined when she’d packed it in Denver.
Icy air gushed into the car when the door at the front opened. Belinda expected to see another railroad employee—perhaps there was more news already—but instead the familiar form of Hayden Fairbanks stood in the aisle. He grasped Eloise’s hand. Eloise, whose last name Belinda still didn’t know. The girl spotted Belinda and broke away from Hayden.
“We were looking for the lady.” Eloise climbed into the seat next to Belinda. “But you’re Uncle’s friend, aren’t you?”
Belinda swallowed. Whatever she felt about Hayden’s failure to appear at their engagement dinner, it would be harsh to deny she was his friend. “Yes, I know Mr. Fairbanks.”
Hayden caught up with Eloise. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Belinda heard the flatness in her own tone and was glad she had achieved it. “Eloise tells me you were looking for Mrs. Stromberg.”
Hayden nodded. “I wondered if she had a berth, but of course I don’t know which car she might be in.”
“I haven’t seen her in this coach.”
“Can’t I stay with your friend, Uncle?” Eloise looked up with her wide brown eyes.
“Stay?” Belinda echoed.
“I thought I would go see if I can help dig out,” Hayden said. “They are recruiting volunteers.”
“I see. So you thought Mrs. Stromberg might watch Eloise?”
“I don’t feel I should leave her entirely on her own.”
“No, of course not.” Belinda met Hayden’s eyes. His willingness to help did not surprise her, and the child had charmed Belinda the day before. “I’m sure they would appreciate the assistance. Eloise can stay with me.”
The blue wool scarf wrapped around the lower half of Hayden’s face dampened quickly once he was outside. His gray overcoat was buttoned up to his neck, and he had been grateful to discover a black pair of gloves in the pockets that he didn’t remember putting there. The wind had made him give up trying to keep his hat on his head though.
Hayden had first shoveled snow off the steps leading from the platform at the end of the coach to the ground. Few of the male passengers who volunteered were prepared for the task. Their clothing, while appropriate for traveling, was not constructed for warmth and dryness while standing underneath clouds dumping icy crystals into unrelenting wind. Hayden wore the only trousers and shoes he had for the journey. It seemed to Hayden that the conductor’s assessment that the storm had begun to abate was overly hopeful. Fresh snow fell and filled in each place where shovels driven by fierce determination reached hard surface. If there was progress, it was only in the perception that the depth of snow did not accumulate immediately in the places they cleared, but Hayden had no doubt that it was only a matter of time. If they let up, they would lose their hard-fought ground.
They slammed shovels at drifts frozen against the side of the train and scraped snow from the undercarriage and wheels and rails. Hayden put his shoulder into one heft of the shovel after another to heave the weight of snow away from the tracks, all the while fairly certain that as much as half of the snow caught in the wind. He couldn’t know where it landed. Male passengers, porters, brakemen, and firemen formed the squadron that would keep the train from disappearing into a cave of ice.
Hayden leaned on his shovel to catch his breath. He could barely see the three stairs he had descended when he left the train. Wondering what had happened to Gerald and looking after Eloise had consumed his attention so fully that Hayden hadn’t noticed how many coal tenders were among the snake of cars the engines pulled, nor how much coal they might have taken on the night before. For the first time, he wondered how well equipped the train was to keep the passengers warm during an extended stay in this isolated location. Hayden didn’t even know where they were.
Food was sure to run out quickly, a reality that would fuel tempers.
Someone thumped Hayden on the back and called above the wind. “We can’t stop now, mate.”
“Is Uncle going to dig us out?” Eloise pushed loose hair out of her eyes.
“He’s going to try,” Belinda said. “He has lots of help and more is on the way.”
“I hope it doesn’t take too long. I want to see my papa.”
Belinda eyed her bag, which was stowed on the rack above the seat. “Why don’t I get my brush out and we’ll see what we can do with your hair.”
Eloise giggled. “Uncle doesn’t know how to brush hair. I guess my papa never told him.”
“Does your papa arrange your hair?”
“After my mama died, Papa had to learn to make braids.”
Belinda’s stomach burned as she fished her brush from the bag. This was the second time the child had mentioned she had no mother. “When did you and your uncle decide to take a trip together?”
“It was Papa’s idea. He told me to wait very patiently at the kitchen table. Then he sent Uncle a note to come and find me and take me to San Francisco.”
“Why didn’t your father take you?” Belinda released the haphazard curls of the girl’s hair.
“No one told me that part.”
“Why did your papa ask your uncle to take you?”
Eloise shrugged. “I did what Papa said, and Uncle came to get me. Papa said he would keep me safe, and he did.”
Belinda pulled the brush through Eloise’s hair. The girl didn’t object, so she pulled harder to reach the deep layers.
“I called him sir, but he told me to call him Uncle. I think Uncle is nicer, don’t you?”
“Yes. Very much. Is he not your real uncle, then?”
“I don’t think so.” Eloise pursed her lips in thought. “I have Uncle Paul, but he lives in Chicago.”
“So Uncle Hayden must be your father’s friend.”
“Papa said he could always trust Uncle in an emergency, and so I was to trust him, too.”
Belinda parted Eloise’s thick hair in the back and took half of it in her hands to braid. “Then I guess your father thought this was an emergency.”
“Yes, but he didn’t want me to be afraid. He knew Uncle would come as soon he got the note.”
“And he did come.”
“Yes. I slept at his apartment above the shops, and in the morning we got on the train.”
Belinda swiftly plaited one braid and held the end together while she found a ribbon in her bag to secure it. “I don’t think I have two matching ribbons for your hair.”
Eloise giggled again. “Papa says not matching is more fun, but I think it’s because he loses the ribbons.”
As Eloise began to hum, Belinda started the other braid. Her mind spun with questions, but she suspected Hayden didn’t know the answers any more than Eloise did. Hayden’s quandary was becoming clear. How could he leave a six-year-old child waiting obediently and patiently at the kitchen
table while he enjoyed a leisurely, celebratory dinner?
Of course he couldn’t. He had done the right thing.
The train was not overly warm, but its temperature was a comparative blast of heat to Hayden when he rotated inside. He hustled, dripping, through the aisles to the place where he had left Eloise.
Belinda spotted him, stood, and rushed toward him. When she embraced him, she knocked snow loose from the woolen fibers of his coat, eliciting protests from a few passengers caught in the ensuing shower.
“I’ve been such a child,” she said. “I have no excuse, and I won’t try to make one up.”
Hayden laid a hand over the one she put against his cheek and looked into the blue of her eyes. “I wanted to tell you the whole story. When I found you on the train from Denver—”
She put a finger over his lips. “I should have listened. I was rude and self-centered. You were right. It is a blessing that we are on the train together.”
“I wish I could kiss you right now,” he whispered.
An achy breath escaped her lips as their eyes locked.
“We’ll have our moment,” she said.
Hayden shivered.
“We need to get you warm and dry.” Belinda took his wet coat by the lapels and began to ease it off his shoulders. “Come to the heater at the back of the coach. Do you have dry stockings in your bag?”
“Yes, but it’s in the other coach, four cars forward.”
“Eloise can show me where it is.”
She led him to the heater, set his shoes in front of it, hung his socks nearby and his coat on a hook to drip-dry. Then she took Eloise by the hand and let the girl lead her to their belongings.
Hayden watched her go, seeing in her everything he knew her to be despite her behavior in the last twenty-four hours. Compassionate. Tender. Organized. Resourceful. Though he was determined to await her return, when he let his head drop back against the seat, exhaustion washed over him.
The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West Page 36