“I sent you to the Wagners’ last week. Did you find at least one woman you could imagine being married to?”
“I went because you requested it, but again, Father, I will marry someone I love, a woman God made for me to be my helpmate.” Miss Owen had surprised him with her question about Africa, but she was from St. Louis and would return there. Besides, he’d be off in a few days himself. It did seem as if God placed interesting women in his path but then swept them away before he could pursue them.
“Pure foolishness. But realize you and any children you sire will be penniless if you don’t marry this year.”
“That may be, but I won’t dishonor God by making a mockery out of one of His sacraments. I trust He will provide what my family will need.”
“What about ‘Honor your father?’ ” Father fisted his fingers and pounded the armrest.
“That’s what I did this past Saturday evening by attending the Wagners’ function. Along with that, I write under the pen name Wyatt Cross, as you insisted, in addition to a host of other demands these past years.” And he’d become used to that name.
“Is it so hard for you to stay in Topeka? For your mother’s sake?”
“Not as long as I am free to travel.” His father brought out an immature side of him. He knew why marriage and staying in Topeka were important to his parents. Knew it too well. He’d heard so many times growing up how he was a miracle. Their only child. Though his mother called him a blessing from God, his father seemed to think having William was a right in life.
“You aren’t our prisoner, William. With the money we have, you could travel anywhere you choose.” He slumped in his chair. “We’re growing old too fast. Someday you’ll understand.” His father rubbed his balding head.
“I’m sorry. I know you wish the best for me and always have. I’ll consider what you are asking and continue to pray for God to soon send the one He has chosen for me.”
A muscle ticked in his father’s jaw. “God again.”
Chapter Three
Mary stood on the platform waiting to board the Pueblo Excursion train. She shivered in the March wind despite the woolen traveling suit she wore. No, it wasn’t from the cold. Excitement coursed through her, sending goose bumps down her spine. She was really doing this. Her first adventure, and if she could get Aunt Cora’s secret from her, it would not be the last.
“Mary, stop bouncing.” Aunt Cora touched Mary’s arm. “It’s a train ride—”
“Not an elephant ride in India. I know. But to me, it’s as exciting. Imagine being cooped up in boarding school for years, Aunt Cora. The only time I had fun was at home when Father let me practice shooting. You were so fortunate that you didn’t have to endure the life I’ve had.”
“Yes, your life has been horrible. Attending school must have been similar to incarceration.” Aunt Cora scowled.
“But it was. We were told when to eat, when to sleep, and when to pray.” Mary knew many girls would’ve been happy to go to school. But all she’d ever wanted to do was grow up at home and experience all St. Louis had to offer. Her father’s ideas about appropriate experiences differed from hers. If he would have let her, she would have volunteered at the orphanage. Instead, he sent her away to boarding school. He might as well have kept her locked up.
“Protecting you,” he’d said. From what, she had no idea.
She wanted to travel the world. Her father wanted her to be a wife. They’d been at odds for months. When Aunt Cora had suggested Mary come with her on the excursion to see what else life offered, Father’s eyes had narrowed before he’d said no. Then Aunt Cora told him about her illness and how she needed a companion on this trip. He relented.
“It hasn’t been a dull life from what you’ve said in your letters,” Aunt Cora said.
“Schoolgirl fun and pranks, and no, I didn’t come up with them. Not all of them. It doesn’t compare to the excitement you’ve had, Aunt Cora.”
“You have no idea what I have endured, Mary.”
Mary chose not to reply, even though she disagreed. Today was a joyful day. Even the rumble of the baggage carts reminded her of low laughter. So many people gathered on the platform and beyond it would be impossible to count all of them. Men, of course, outnumbered the women from what she saw, but there were more than she’d expected.
The crowd came to a halt. Mary overheard a couple close to them talking. She turned slightly to see them, surprised to find them head to head whispering and smiling. They traveled together? And were happy? She couldn’t pull a memory of hermother and father ever doing that.
“Get your Pueblo Excursion photo made here.” A photographer stood in front of a drooping banner displaying a steam engine in front of a mountain. “Remember this trip forever!”
“Let’s do it, Aunt Cora.” Mary swayed and clapped her hands. Her purse swung from her wrist, almost hitting her chin. “I’m sure I’ll never forget this trip, but it would be nice to have a memory to pull out and look at.”
“Goodness gracious. It’s a good thing I’m holding our dinner basket, or you’d have it smashed and upside down by now. You must settle down. We can get the picture taken, and by then, it should be time to board.”
Mary straightened her back and forced herself not to run to the photographer. She didn’t wish to embarrass Aunt Cora, especially if she hoped to travel with her again. She would act the perfect lady she’d been trained to be.
Wyatt Cross jumped from the buggy as it arrived at the station, overnight case in hand. He’d procured a ticket for the excursion by chance. He saw the ad and approached his editor about doing a story. He would be one of many reporters onboard, but he doubted their mission would be the same as his. There were 446 people on this train, but he wasn’t interested in why the men took the trip. The women. That’s where the stories would be, and, if God was listening, a wife for him.
His bag held tight in his hand, he looked for a porter. It was a two-day trip, but he needed to look good when he arrived in Pueblo, so he’d brought an extra suit. There would be cameras at the other end, and he didn’t want to show up in the newspaper his father read looking unpresentable. It would only strain their relationship further.
“May I help you with that, sir?” An employee of the train company appeared in front of him. “Bound for Pueblo?”
“Sure am, George. Take care of this for me?”
“May I see your passage ticket, sir?”
Wyatt pulled the colorful ticket from his coat pocket.
George returned the ticket along with a numbered metal check. “Only one stop along the way. Your bag will be waiting at the hotel for you when you arrive.”
“Thank you.” Wyatt handed the man a few coins and received a wide grin in return.
“Get your picture taken before you board the train! Remember your—” A shout drew Wyatt’s attention away from the attendant. He was about to dismiss the hawker when he noticed a young woman and her companion conversing with the photographer.
The young one, with hair the color of untarnished copper, smiled so hard her cheeks would hurt by the end of the session. He’d seen her before, but where? The older one, maybe her mother or aunt, showed no excitement. Bored, maybe? From her outfit, Wyatt would guess she’d been on many more exciting journeys and this one didn’t compare.
So those were two of the eighty-three women on the trip. He’d start his interview with them.
Mary took in the clamor around her. They got their photo taken right away. It was good she’d urged Aunt Cora to act, or they’d be standing in the line that formed.
“Ladies, you won’t regret having this beautiful reminder in the years to come.” The photographer placed them close together under the banner. “Give me your basket and hand luggage. You don’t want that in your photo.”
Aunt Cora handed it over. “Mind you be careful of that.”
“I will, madam. And miss, what about your umbrella?”
“It’s part of my traveling costume.”<
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The photographer nodded, then stepped to the edge of the photo prop and set down the basket. Once he moved behind the camera, he slipped under the dark cloth.
“Thank you for doing this, Aunt Cora.”
The photographer poked his head from under the cloth. “Get a little closer to each other, please, and stand very still.”
Mary brushed up closer to Aunt Cora until their shoulders touched.
“Hold still just a little longer.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary glimpsed a flash of green as a child ducked off with their dinner. “Stop, thief!” She fled after him, ignoring the calls of the photographer and her aunt. She had to catch the robber or they wouldn’t have a meal on the train. She wove through the crowd, shouting as she went. “Excuse me!”
The crowd parted, but no one stepped forward to help. There wasn’t time to purchase another meal, and she had no intention of letting the boy steal it from them. Aunt Cora had to eat or she would faint. Mary promised Father she’d take care of his sister, and if that meant chasing a child, then she would.
There, a green jacket in front of her. She’d caught him. She leapt across the remaining space between them. Her motion knocked the boy to the ground. Mary wobbled but kept her balance.
“That’s mine!” She leaned over him, placed her foot on his leg, and yanked the package from him. “Stealing is wrong, and stealing from women is even, even more wrong.”
She nudged the boy with her umbrella. “The Bible says thou shall not steal—”
The umbrella handle slid through her hand.
Gasping, she turned her head. Another thief? A man towered over her. His mustache quivered. Was he angry? Her knees trembled. Would he strike her? Was this one of those incidents Aunt Cora told her to be aware of, where one person acted as a decoy and the other stole your money? She stood taller. “He stole—”
“He’s probably hungry, miss. I’m sure he’ll apologize if you let him off the ground. Won’t you, son?”
Her face heated with embarrassment at the compassion and maybe something more in his voice. “I can handle this. I do not need your help.”
The boy tugged her skirt. “Missus, I’m sorry. I am hungry. My sister is, too. I promised her I’d find food.”
“You sit still and be quiet.” She kept her foot on the boy and stared at the man in front of her. Did she know him from somewhere? Then again, Father introduced her to so many men she couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t do if word of her behavior made it back home. Gathering her thoughts, she stilled her emotions and directed her attention to the boy. “How old are you?”
“I don’t have to tell you.”
“Where is your sister?” The boy couldn’t be more than eight. The whistle blew itsboarding signal. She didn’t have time to help this child right now. His clenched lips said he wouldn’t give her any information.
She couldn’t fix everything, but today, she could help this boy. She opened the basket and withdrew a sandwich, then an apple, and handed them to the boy. “Share this with your sister.”
“Thank you. God bless.” The boy stood, swayed on his feet, ready to run.
“Go on.” He didn’t need more encouragement. He scampered away without looking back. It concerned her that he might not have enough to feed both him and his sister. She should have given him more. Father said she shouldn’t have such a soft heart for beggars, that they took advantage of her. Still, how did one know if a child was truly in need?
“That was nice of you, though he may not have a sister.”
She bristled at the man’s warning comment. So much like her father. “But he might. I’ll take my umbrella, thank you. I have a train to catch.”
Chapter Four
Mary, I had to pay for that picture, and I’m sure it is ruined.” Aunt Cora’s heavy eyebrows almost knotted together as they got into the boarding line. “I would have thought better of you. Running after a basket of food as if you hadn’t just had breakfast.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Cora. I had to save our dinner. You have to have something to eat.” Mary handed her the basket and straightened her suit jacket. “Some of this is a bit mushed with all the jostling.”
“Dear girl, this is an adventure. If it is mush, then that is what you eat. If the child had absconded with it, then that would also be part of the story you get to tell after the trip. Adventure isn’t about the place you end up. It’s the trip you take to get there.” Aunt Cora shrugged. “Maybe you aren’t ready for this.”
“But I am. I was shocked someone would steal our food.” Mary wanted to go back and change her actions toward the boy. She could have given him her entire portion and kept Aunt Cora’s. That skinny youth in ragged clothes and bony hands might not have eaten in days, though it hadn’t slowed him down. Or maybe it was the idea of eating that gave him the burst of energy to run. She did catch him.
She glanced behind her to see if she could spot him. If she remembered his face, when they returned… She stopped when her gaze collided with that odious man who took her umbrella. Was he going to Pueblo, too?
Before she turned away, he winked. Her heart kicked against her chest. Should she mention it to Aunt Cora? Or maybe she’d accept her aunt’s advice and see where this journey took her. After all, he was taking the excursion trip. Perhaps he liked adventure.
She risked another look. The man held a notebook and scribbled. A reporter. Probably the excursion train would be loaded with them. She dismissed entertaining any more thoughts about him. Father would have a fit if she so much as spoke to the man again. He wouldn’t be rich enough to placate her father.
Women of all backgrounds boarded the train in Topeka, Kansas. The first line of an article could be tricky. He’d likely change it after he spoke with some of the women. Wyatt scribbled a few more sentences about leaving the depot and the weather. He glanced up to find the copper-haired beauty who gave food to the boy staring at him. He flashed a wink and a smile. He shouldn’t have, but the temptation to tease her was too great.
He’d have to find her on the train and interview her. Must be a good story there. SOCIALITE ON THE EXCURSION. Possible heading for the article? Plucky woman to chase a child. Most of the women he knew would have screamed and pointed forsomeone else to do the running.
He checked the line behind him. Women were scarce in this monochromatic crowd but easy to pick out with their colorful hats. They traveled in small groups or with a husband. What would it be like to share adventures with a wife? He would concentrate on speaking to the ones without a male companion.
Wyatt closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket along with the pencil. The line inched forward. Noticing everyone in front of him carried a package or basket onboard, he realized he hadn’t stopped to pick up food for himself. His stomach growled. He woke too late for breakfast and skipped lunch. If he wanted dinner, he needed to act fast.
The line stretched behind him. Would he have enough time to purchase something at the station? He decided to risk it. “Pardon me.” He moved through the murmuring crowd and ran for the depot. There wouldn’t be time for the staff to make a sandwich. If he asked for a hunk of cheese and bread, and the wrapping, he would save time.
Once inside, he rushed to the lunch counter. No one stood behind it. He glanced around for an employee and then saw the sign.
CLOSED.
He forgot it was Sunday.
Mary waited until Aunt Cora’s dress hem dragged the top step of the passenger car before she followed. Her shoe clunked against the steel. This was real. She relaxed as she passed through the vestibule doors.
The porter took their lunch and hand baggage from Aunt Cora and then led them down the wooden aisle. After he stored the items on the rail above the seats, Aunt Cora tipped him. “Thank you, George.”
George nodded and moved a few steps back so they could sit.
“Mary, come by the window so you can see everything.” Aunt Cora stepped aside as Mary slid past.
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��Thank you. It will be exciting to see what the Kansas and Colorado scenery is like.” Mary settled into her seat. “How did you know his name is George?”
“I don’t. It’s what is done on trains. Call the porter George and tip him well, and you’ll always have a friend on the train. It’s something I learned from my travels. I believe it has something to do with George Pullman, the owner of the trains.”
“Interesting. I’ll remember that.” Mary peered out the window. The once-overflowing platform emptied as passengers boarded the train. There were a few stragglers. One man came running. She leaned closer to the window. The man who’d taken her umbrella. He should have been onboard by now.
The whistle sounded. Steam released. “All aboard.” The conductor sounded off. “Last call.”
Would he make it? Her heart jumped. It would be awful to miss this train. Especially if he was to be writing about it.
“What are you gawking at?” Aunt Cora leaned over Mary’s shoulder.
Lavender essence, Aunt Cora’s favorite scent, freshened the air, but it didn’t calm Mary’s excitement.
“I’m watching people run to catch the train. Why don’t they arrive on time? Do you suppose they had an emergency? Or maybe forgot something?” Mary pressed her face against the window, trying to spot the man boarding.
She’d lost him. Just as well.
“Possibly both. Some like to test the fortitude of others’ patience.” Aunt Cora settled back into her seat. “I missed a train once in Spain.”
Mary whipped around. Aunt Cora had the best stories. “Why?”
“Someday I’ll tell you the whole tale. It isn’t that exciting. We were at a café, and they had the best paella. We lost the time in laughter.” Aunt Cora sighed.
The Rails to Love Romance Collection Page 2