The Rails to Love Romance Collection

by Brandmeyer, Diana Lesire; Cabot, Amanda; Carter, Lisa

  Please, God, let the train move tomorrow. She wiggled against the seat. Funny, she didn’t notice how hard it was until now.

  “Are you awake?” A throaty whisper came from Mr. Cross.

  Mary jumped. “I thought you were out for the night.”

  “Seats are too uncomfortable.” He straightened up and rubbed his whiskered chin. “Can I interview you? That would pass the time.”

  She glanced at the passengers around her. Some played cards and others bowed their heads in slumber. There would be many sore necks in the morning. “We’ll disturb Aunt Cora.”

  “Not if we whisper.”

  Mary tilted her head to one side and then the other way to ease the kinks that had settled. “What could I possibly have to say that is exciting enough for you to print?”

  Wyatt reached into his coat pocket and brought out his pen and paper. “Let’s find out. Why are you taking this trip?”

  How much should she tell him? Knowing her father might read her words gave her pause. Caution would be best. “My aunt travels all over the world. I admire her and would like to be able to do what she does. Or become a missionary. I’ve not been away from home before, so my father let me come this time because Aunt Cora can’t be alone.”

  “Why not?” His knees brushed hers.

  A finger of fire raced through her. Mary swallowed and pushed back into the seat.

  He readjusted his position sideways. “My apologies. There isn’t much room for legs.”

  “She forgets to eat and becomes dizzy. I’m here to make sure she has meals on time.”

  “Is that why you chased the boy?” He scribbled in his notebook.

  “Yes. My father asked me to watch over her, and I intend to, even if that means chasing urchins.” He had nice hair, though mussed from his attempt to sleep.

  His pencil stopped scratching as he looked up. “So, you didn’t want to take this trip?”

  “I didn’t know about this excursion until Aunt Cora told me a few days ago, before we left St. Louis. I’m thankful to be allowed to accompany her.” Otherwise, she might be planning her wedding.

  “Is it odd you were unaware of this trip? It’s difficult to obtain tickets for special excursions as they sell out fast. The paper I work for purchased mine a month ago. They were sold out a week later.”

  “Are you suggesting my father planned for me to come with Aunt Cora before they argued about it over breakfast?” Anger erased the fire Mr. Cross ignited within her. Why would they conspire against her? She would have said yes without the subterfuge. Did Aunt Cora even need her?

  Wyatt’s instinctive reporter warning bells rang in his head. He’d rattled Miss Owen. Her eyebrows twitched, and her lips turned down. Something was up, but with her lips so tight, he didn’t think he’d get much from her right now.

  Miss Periwinkle strolled past, leaving a scented trail thick enough to be called a rose garden.

  “Excuse me, Miss Owen. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll chat with Miss Periwinkle. I have a few more questions I’d like to ask her.” Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Her mouth opened and closed. He’d played his cards right and rendered her speechless. Good. When he returned, he might find her willing to speak to him.

  Chapter Eight

  Mary woke to the bright sun poking at her eyes through the window. The snow on the ground stretched for miles. She yawned and raised her arms, then dropped them down once she remembered where she was.

  Aunt Cora still slept. Mary debated waking her and calling for George to get their basket down. They had a few pieces of cake left they could eat for breakfast. After that, Mary was unsure where she would find food. Maybe she shouldn’t wait to try. If she did, there may not be anything. She stood and stepped over Aunt Cora’s feet. Most of the passengers still dozed. The perfect time to see what was outside the door of the train and search for food.

  With George’s help, she tugged on her coat. “Could you direct me to the nearest place that might have food?”

  “The snow is awful deep, miss. Let the men go searching when they wake.”

  “I fear there won’t be enough. I have to make sure my aunt has provisions.”

  George steadied her as she stepped on the slick metal steps to disembark from the train car. The cold from the handrail seeped through her gloves. The wind blew hard, picking up the fresh snow and sending it swirling around her. A house stood about four cars away along with a windmill, and a water tower to fill the tank of the train, but she didn’t see anything else. Could this be where the stationmaster lived?

  She took a step, and snow circled her ankles and slid up her shins. She withheld a shriek. The cold didn’t matter. Her goal was to reach that house and see if there was food to be had. Aunt Cora could not go without. Her father had been adamant.

  Someone stepped out of the house onto the porch. It looked like Mr. Cross.

  Had the scoundrel found a bed to sleep in? He waved at her.

  “Wait! I’ll bring you what I have.”

  Mary stopped. It would be a blessing from God if Mr. Cross had what they needed. She heard her father’s voice: “…a husband can protect you.” Maybe a little watching over from a man wouldn’t be so awful.

  As Mr. Cross approached, his footsteps crunched in the snow. He handed her a basket. “Keep this by you. It isn’t a lot, so you’ll have to ration between the two of you. The stationmaster offered what provisions he has. There won’t be enough to feed everyone. I know your aunt needs food, so she’ll be the first to get breakfast.”

  “We have cake. You didn’t have to bring it for us.” Why did she say that? “Sorry. I’m a little grumpy in the morning, especially if I haven’t slept well. Thank you for thinking of my aunt.”

  “Women shouldn’t travel without a man. They need someone to look out after them. Since your father isn’t here, I’ve chosen to do that for you.”

  He might as well have slapped her face. “If it wasn’t for my aunt, I would throw this at you. I can take care of myself. That’s the whole point of this trip. I’m proving to my father that I don’t need anyone besides God and myself to get through this life. I am capable of finding my own food.”

  She tried to turn, but the snow snared her foot. She fell face forward into a freezing bank. The basket flew out of her hand. Bread and apples skittered across the snow. She lifted her head to see. The precious food lay on the tracks. If she wanted to get it, she would have to crawl underneath the train, and if she did, the bread wouldn’t be edible. She bit back the tears that stung her eyes.

  She pushed into a sitting position. Her wool skirts, heavy with snow, made it impossible to stand. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to unless she wanted to crawl to the train and have George help her. “Mr. Cross, would you please give me assistance?”

  “Here. Take my hand.”

  She did.

  He pulled her up, balancing her against his chest.

  Warmth radiated from him. For a moment, she wanted to sink against Wyatt and let him take care of her and Aunt Cora.

  “What are you going to do now? You’re capable, so you say. What are you going to do for dinner tonight? The engineer said we won’t leave until tomorrow morning. After your cake is gone, you’re still going to need three more meals.”

  “All I need is a shotgun, and I’ll get some food. I’ll get a hunting party together. Tell my aunt I’ll be back later.” She stomped through the snow toward the stationmaster’s house. She knew how to shoot, and she was going to get a gun. There would be dinner, lunch, and breakfast, too. They might get sick of rabbit, but they would have something to eat.

  Wyatt bit back a chuckle. Maybe he was right about this woman. She wasn’t one to sit back and wait for things to happen or to be given to her. He would pay more attention and dig a little further into what she was like under normal circumstances, and what her desires were for the future. Meanwhile, he let her go on to the stationmaster’s home.

  Whil
e she did that, he’d gather a few men and join her hunting party. She had a good idea. Getting fresh meat for the day would not be a bad plan. Perhaps with the few provisions left, one of the women passengers could make some stew and stretch it further. Good gravy, now he sounded like a woman. What was happening?

  One thing he knew for certain, he would avoid Miss Periwinkle the rest of the trip. She had one thing in mind. Marriage. Marriage to anyone.

  He could see why she was single. She hadn’t stopped talking about herself for one minute last night. She was a great candidate for an interview if one could believe a tenth of what she said. One moment she talked about wanting to climb mountains, and the next she prattled about how she couldn’t wait to sit by an evening fire with her knitting. The two things were so far apart from each other, he didn’t know what to make of it.

  Before he boarded the train, he waited for Miss Owen to make it to the house. He wouldn’t mind having to rescue her from the snow one more time. The door closed. Whether or not she would get a gun was another question. He was surprised she didn’t have one on her.

  “Can I help you with that, sir?” George hung on to the rail. “It’s a bit slippery.”

  “Here’s a basket of food I got from the stationmaster. It isn’t much. I’m hoping you can distribute it evenly.”

  Wyatt handed the basket up to George, who took it and set it down.

  “He has a little left, but not much. I fear once the others realize there is nothing on the train to eat, they will hit his door as well, asking for food. I’m gathering a few men from the other car to help hunt.”

  He grabbed the handrail and climbed the stairs. His foot slipped, but he caught his balance before he fell.

  “Careful, sir. Is there something I can do to help?”

  “Would you please inform Miss Owen that her niece plans to go hunting with us?”

  Imagine that. A society princess out hunting in the snow. Yes, she intrigued him. He wanted to find out more.

  The wind had calmed, making it a good time to hunt. Not far from the train, Mary stood outside the circle of men. They made more noise than hens clucking for their dinner. She took a few steps away.

  “Where are you going, Miss Owen?” Wyatt caught up to her. “We agreed to stick together.”

  “You and your posse did. I can do far better on my own.”

  “It’s not that we can’t. It’s a safety issue. As long as we are—”

  Mary spotted movement on the snow. She placed the repeating Winchester on her shoulder, took aim, and fired. “Got it. You were saying? I need to pick up my rabbit, if you don’t mind.”

  “And if you go out there and someone else shoots—”

  She aimed and fired again. “Sure is a lot of talking and not much hunting going on. If you and the others are going to provide food, you best be getting to it.” She walked away. Miss Periwinkle could have him. Reporters, at least this one, didn’t seem to be good at providing during a crisis.

  “I’m coming with you. Two of us will look bigger out there and, if God is watching out for us, we won’t get shot. Or you could return to the train, and I’ll get these picked up and cleaned.”

  “And then what? You expect me to then cook them?” Which is what she intended to do, but she wanted to know what he thought.

  He rubbed his whiskered chin. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Because I bagged them. That’s the rule of hunting.” He probably didn’t think women should have the right to vote either.

  “How do you know?”

  “My father taught me to hunt when I was small. I would have had more to pick up if I’d had my own gun. This one is a bit too large.” She rested the long barrel over her shoulder and stepped away from him. “Are you coming?”

  Chapter Nine

  In the car, Mary found her aunt conversing with Miss Periwinkle, who held a piece of cake in her lap.

  “I’ve asked Miss Periwinkle to sit with us for the remainder of the trip.” Aunt Cora slid over so Mary could sit.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Owen. Your sweet aunt is such a delight. She even shared her cake with me as I had nothing left from last night.” She tittered.

  “That was to be for my aunt to eat. I suppose she didn’t mention if she is without food she faints?”

  “Mary, there is no need—”

  “Why no, she didn’t mention it.” Miss Periwinkle’s face drooped a bit, and she looked at the cake in her lap uncertainly.

  “She wouldn’t. But I will, so enjoy that bit of chocolate cake. Aunt Cora, you may have mine.” Mary rubbed her hands together. Her feet felt like blocks of ice from tramping through the snow, but she couldn’t very well remove her boots and rub them.

  “We’ll see. I’m not hungry at the moment. Miss Periwinkle was telling me she hoped to find a match in Pueblo.”

  “Or this excursion. There are some mighty fine men to pick from, like Mr. Cross. He was sitting with you earlier. What did you think of him?” Miss Periwinkle took a bite of the cake.

  “I’m sure he’ll return soon. He said he couldn’t find another place in the other car.”

  Miss Periwinkle’s face took on a dreamy look. “If Mr. Cross would like to sit here, there is plenty of room beside me. Mama used to say I’m light as a feather and tiny as a hummingbird.”

  Mary wished she would have stayed out in the cold and dressed those rabbits. Why had she let Wyatt convince her to come inside? Especially since she was mad at him for suggesting it in the first place. It would serve him right if he had to sit by Miss Periwinkle. “I’m sure Mr. Cross would be delighted to sit next to you, Miss Periwinkle. He said you were old friends.”

  Miss Periwinkle blushed. “He did? Wyatt is the sweetest man. I can’t believe someone hasn’t snatched him up for a husband since he—”

  Wyatt slid into the bench seat. “Miss Periwinkle, you aren’t spreading tales, are you?”

  Mary noticed he kept inches between them by hugging the edge of the seat.

  “Are you warm enough, Miss Owen? I can switch places with you so you’ll be closer to the stove. After that spill in the snow and hunting, it wouldn’t do to catch a cold.”

  “Mary. You were hunting?” Aunt Cora drew herself up in an opposing posture. “I promised your father—”

  “So Miss Owen is a bit of an outlaw then?” Wyatt wore a huge grin as he reached for his notebook and pencil.

  “I am not, sir.” Outlaw indeed. “I had to find provisions for my aunt. Anyone would have done the same for a family member.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of shooting an animal, Mr. Cross.” Miss Periwinkle touched his arm. “Make sure you put that in your article. It’s not right for women to behave so wild-like when there are men present to take care of them.”

  He inched farther away, half-hanging off his seat. “I disagree, Miss Periwinkle. It’s good for women to know how to take care of themselves. They can be proper helpmates to their husbands and free them from worry when they must leave them alone.”

  “Hmpf.” Miss Periwinkle crossed her arms and huddled closer to the window.

  Wyatt didn’t care for Miss Periwinkle. Mary warmed inside despite the outer chill on her skin. “Mr. Cross, I would love to move closer to the heat. Thank you.”

  Outlaw. That’s what he’d call her in his article. OUTLAW ON THE PUEBLO EXCURSION made a grand headline. Might even be front page worthy. Mary caught his attention and held it. Women like Miss Periwinkle couldn’t begin to garner his attention in her presence.

  Here was a woman not afraid to go into a snow-filled pasture and hunt food for her family. Did she have a sense of adventure, too, or just one of survival? One could argue both were needed, or maybe they were interchangeable.

  He watched her while she chatted with Miss Periwinkle and her aunt. He shut his eyes, hoping they would think he rested. He’d rely on his memory if they said anything that he could use in his column.

  “It’s rather dull waiting. Isn’t it?” Miss Periwinkl
e tapped her foot. “If we had a game to play, it would pass the time. Did you bring cards, Miss Owen?”

  “She certainly did not.” Mary’s aunt roused from a rest she’d been taking. “We do not play games of chance in this family. I’m surprised you do, Miss Periwinkle.”

  “My father allows it. Parlor games are all the rage back home in Boston. There’s not much else to do in the winters.”

  “There is always the Bible to read or stitching that can be done. My niece has been trained in the proper ways of a lady. Didn’t you go away to school?”

  “My parents sent me to Europe. The rules there are much different. Always an event to attend and a gentleman to take you. Why, we even snuck out of school some evenings to walk along the riverbanks. Nothing like this backward country. That’s why I came on this trip. Father is traveling in the train that left behind us. He’s a legislator, and he wants to open the West to more people.”

  She lied, and Wyatt knew it. Earlier she’d mentioned growing up in New York and traveling with her uncle. They were buying a home in Pueblo.

  “What does your father do, Miss Owen?”

  Mary frowned.

  Would she answer? Miss Periwinkle might as well have asked Mary how much herfather was worth. Wyatt’s fingers itched to get at his pencil, but he remained still.

  “I’m going to explore the train. Would you like to come along, Aunt Cora?” Mary wanted out of the tight space and away from Miss Periwinkle’s questions.

  “Walking around isn’t good for me.” Miss Periwinkle gazed at Mr. Cross. “I tire easily.”

  More like she didn’t want to leave Wyatt’s presence. Should she stay? “Aunt Cora?”

  “Go along, dear.” Her aunt elbowed Wyatt. “Would you be a dear and escort my niece? She’s restless. I’ll stay with Miss Periwinkle. We wouldn’t want her to tire herself too much.”

  Mary bit back a grin. Her aunt didn’t want Wyatt around that woman either. But that meant her aunt did want Wyatt around her. Did she want to see her married as much as her father did? She’d dig into that subject when she came back from her walk. By then, she trusted Aunt Cora would have encouraged Miss Periwinkle to return to her own seat.