The Rails to Love Romance Collection

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

  He raised his hand for their attention. “And to America.” Equally loud cheers.

  Cordelia nodded. “America built by all Americans.”

  He took hold of her arm. “I’d better walk you back. It’s going to get only more maudlin from here on out.”

  Sure as he’d spoken, already the jugs were being passed from hand to hand. “Thisis not the place for you.”

  “And you think I belong in the pavilion?”

  “Where we belong is something we can only decide for ourselves.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t want to go to the pavilion.”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “Sometimes the road is already set, Cordelia. We don’t all have a choice.”

  “This is America…”

  “Yes.” He cocked his head. “So it is. And I’ve decided to stay with the railroad. Not farm.”

  “What about us?”

  Silence ticked between them.

  Her chest rose and fell as she waited for him to answer. But what, in the end, could he say? What could he offer her but a life that would cost her everything she’d dreamed of?

  “Neil?” Her tone sharpened. “Answer me.”

  “There…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “There is no us, Cordelia.”

  She took an inadvertent step backward as if from the force of a physical blow.

  He wanted to throw his arms around her, but he kept his hands clamped to his side. Dodge had given him the opportunity of a lifetime. Neil could not—would not—deny Cordelia’s chance to make her own dreams come true.

  She set off without waiting for him. Oil lamps within set the canvas walls aglow and lighted their path. He had to jog to catch her.

  Just outside the closed flap of her tent, she whirled. Stamped her foot. “This is good-bye?”

  “I don’t think there’s much for either of us to say.”

  Eyebrows rising, she stood on tiptoe, getting into his face. “I think you’re just scared. A lily-livered chicken.”

  She cocked her head. “I don’t believe you. I think you do care for me.” She lifted her chin. “Love me even.”

  He clenched his teeth together so tightly his jaw ached. “Don’t make me spell it out for you, Cordelia. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She jabbed her finger into his vest. “I don’t hear you denying you love me.”

  “Why does everything with you have to dissolve into a war of words?”

  She cupped her hand around the back of his neck and drew his head to hers till only inches separated their faces. Her sweet breath brushed across his cheek. The scent of lavender wafted across his senses.

  His heart thumped in his chest. “What are you doing, woman?”

  “Prove you don’t love me, Neil.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Sure, and how would you have me do that? By kissing you?”

  “Call it a good-bye kiss, if it makes you feel better. I dare you to show me just how much you don’t care. If you can.” Her eyes taunted him.

  This maddening, unreasonable, hardheaded woman—he seized both her shoulders, crushing the puffy fabric beneath his hands.

  She smiled at him then. She’d won, and she knew it. Her mouth moved closer.

  “Kiss me, Neil.… Kiss me.” Her lips parted.

  Something curled in his belly. He wouldn’t be beguiled by this slip of a woman into changing his mind about what he knew to be best for the both of them. But with her mouth so close, he surrendered his good sense.

  He knew he shouldn’t. It would prove nothing but prolong the pain. But he couldn’t stand this close to her for one last time and not—

  Neil kissed her. For all he was worth. And she kissed him back. Her arms reaching around his neck, she knocked off his hat.

  With her in his arms, he felt—No. This was never going to work. He thrust Cordelia from him.

  She shook from head to toe. “Guess you showed me.”

  His own hand shook as he bent to retrieve his hat from the ground. “I proved nothing, except I’m a man of my word. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say.”

  She balled her fist and punched him in the chest. He staggered.

  “I reckon”—he swallowed—“I deserve that. I wish you the best in your new life. And I hope Europe is everything you’ve dreamed, Cordelia.”

  Her face hardened. “So what will your Irish brothers do after you go build your next railroad?”

  “Billy will go with me. O’Malley’s got the urge to try California. Tierney…” He shot a look over his shoulder past the tents to the ceilidh where the fiddlers had struck up a lament in some minor key.

  A dirge. And he thought it fitting. This was the end of everything.

  “Tierney’s hitching his wagon to Mary-Margaret, who’s got a hankering to open an eatery in Cheyenne. I ’spect they’ll be married afore the week’s out.” When Cordelia looked at him that way, Neil’s heart lost a beat.

  Like she was waiting for him to say something. But nothing he could say would change who they were born to be. Nor the lives they were destined to live, separately.

  “Which city will you choose? London or Paris?”

  “Does it matter?”

  His lips still burned with the remembered feel of hers. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. But we’ll be doing what the good Lord meant us to be doing.”

  “Will we, Neil?” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I wonder.”

  “ ‘It is a long road that has no turning.’ ”

  Tears stung her eyes. “But don’t you see, ‘two shorten the road’?”

  “Good-bye, Cordelia.”

  Something sad flickered in her eyes, like the last rays of the sun before dying away to night. Beyond words, she went into the tent. Leaving Neil standing alone and uncertain, assailed by doubt.

  With their parting, she’d torn his heart from his chest. Taking it forever with her. Leaving Neil with an aching throb in the empty space she’d left behind.

  Chapter Nine

  A tune is more lasting than the song of the birds.

  And a word more lasting than the wealth of the world.

  IRISH PROVERB

  The train chugged away from the station. Taking with it, Cordelia. And his heart. Neil’s gut tightened. In the end, his passion for rails and her passion for words had driven them apart.

  “You’re really gonna let the lass go? Just like that?”

  He turned toward O’Malley. “It’s for the best.”

  “Best for who?” Billy frowned. “Cordelia luvs you. I know she does. Did you tell her you luv her, Neil?”

  Neil clenched his hands. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you daft, man?” Tierney growled. “Love’s the only thing that matters, you thickheaded Irish oaf. Not iron track or newspapers.”

  O’Malley hooked his thumb into his belt loop. “Maybe Neil’s not as smart as we gave him credit for being.”

  “To let a fine woman like her ride out of here…” Billy gestured.

  O’Malley poked out his lips. “Steel will prove a cold bedfellow, boyo.”

  Neil resettled his hat on his head. “It’s too late.” He gulped past the boulder lodged in his throat. “Nothing matters now.”

  O’Malley squeezed Neil’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you ask her to stay?”

  “I’ll be living out of a boxcar. What kind of a life would that be for a woman like Cordelia?”

  Tierney spat at the ground. “Did you ever once think to ask Cordelia what she wanted? Did it ever occur to you she might want to be wherever you are. No matter where you are.”

  Billy nodded. “Our Cordelia’s a plucky one. Spirited enough for three women.” He gave a low whistle. “Would to God someday a woman looks at me the way she looks at you.” The boy scrunched his face. “I don’t reckon I’d let her get too far from me.”

  Neil shook his head. “Marriage, a home. Family. That’s not what Cordelia wants. She wants adventure. And I’m only a railroad man.”

  O
’Malley stroked his whiskers. “Speaking as the only one among you with any matrimonial experience, I feel it my duty to inform you, young MacBride, marriage is the ultimate adventure.” His brown eyes glistened. “A journey not to be missed no matter its length.”

  Neil’s stomach knotted. “You think she’d want me?”

  Tierney shoved him toward Mulligan hitched to the railing. “Only one way to find out.”

  “But she’s gone.” Neil’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve lost her for good.”

  “Saints and angels preserve us!” Tierney grunted. “Do I have to do everything myself? Get yerself on that horse and ride after her, MacBride.”

  “The train? I’ll never—I can’t—”

  “Can’t is a coward too lazy to try.” Tierney glowered.

  O’Malley cocked his head. “That’s no Irish proverb I’ve ever heard.”

  Tierney’s gaze roved toward the Gallagher tent eatery. “Scots-Irish, in fact.” A grin split his bearded face. “By way of Tennessee.”

  “You think there’s a chance?” Neil’s heart pounded. “The train… it’ll slow on the approach around the lake.”

  “Now you’re thinking.” Tierney clapped Neil on the back, nearly sending him sprawling into the street.

  “And if me Mary-Margaret doesn’t give you the finest wedding supper Corinne, Utah’s ever seen, then I’ll be wanting to know the reason why.”

  Billy jutted his chin. “Bring back our girl.”

  Clamping his Stetson on his head, Neil untied Mulligan and swung into the saddle. He prayed he wasn’t already too late. Clicking his tongue, he and Mulligan dashed the length of Main, churning dust in their wake.

  Once outside town, he veered off the road. If he cut across the hills, he stood a chance—a real chance—of stopping her.

  Hunched over Mulligan, Neil gritted his teeth. A chance was all he needed. A chance was all the opportunity he’d ever needed.

  Neil urged Mulligan into a full-fledged, no-holds-barred gallop. Toward his dream. Toward a life of shimmering beauty like blue skies above prairie grass. Toward a future he never imagined possible for someone like him and someone like her.

  Keeping one hand atop his hat and the other clutching the reins, he raced across the windswept terrain. Sides heaving, froth between Mulligan’s teeth sprayed Neil. But lifting out of the saddle, he sank his boot heels into the stirrups.

  He gave Mulligan his head. Eyes fixed straight ahead, Neil spotted puffs of smoke, coiling like a gray snake, above the black locomotive hurtling toward the incline.

  “Help me, Lord, catch the train,” he breathed as the wind whistled past. “Help me say the words Cordelia needs to hear so we can be together.”

  At the collective gasp inside the railcar, Cordelia raised her gaze and caught a blur of motion outside the window. Something chestnut red and fast, drawing parallel to the engine car. Mulligan?

  Her mouth fell open, and like the other passengers she leaped to her feet in the swaying passenger car. Her eyes widened. She pressed her nose to the glass.

  Waving his hat, Neil shouted at the conductor. Leaning out, the conductor motioned Neil away. But Neil never slackened speed.

  A gust of wind sent the Stetson roiling over the open plain like tumbleweed, but Neil and Mulligan kept pace with the locomotive. Pulling ahead in one fluid motion, he spurred Mulligan onto the bed of the track. Directly into the path of the train.

  What was the man doing? Had he lost his mind? She pounded the window with her fist.

  The conductor blew a warning whistle. Mulligan reared. She put a hand to her throat. Neil almost toppled from the saddle, but he held on.

  She envisioned Neil’s body crushed beneath flashing hooves and the steel track. “Please, God, no.”

  Neil regained control of the horse. The conductor braked.

  Gravel flew beneath the spinning wheels. She grabbed hold of the seat and braced. The other passengers fell against each other. “What’s happening? Who’s that man?”

  She throttled the bench as if by sheer force of will she could halt the train. The brakes screeched.

  The locomotive slowed. Jerking, the fiery iron beast hissed and slid along the rails. Grinding forward, pulled onward by its own momentum. Finally, the train shuddered to a belching stop mere yards from where Neil sat atop his horse.

  She’d come to the dance last night prepared to give up London and Paris for him. For a life together. But he’d not given her the chance. He’d not asked her to be a part of his life.

  Raw fury gripped Cordelia. She marched down the aisle past railroad executives, past overturned hat boxes, past startled fellow members of the press. She stalked onto the portico between the engine and passenger car.

  “Neil MacBride!” She shook her fist in the air. “I’ve got a few choice words to say to you.”

  Steering Mulligan off the track, he brought the horse around to her. “I’ve got a few words I’d like to say to you, too.”

  Cordelia planted her gloved hands on her hips. “You are the most… The most…” She felt like spitting railroad ties.

  She quivered from the top of her straw bonnet—askew thanks to this crazy man’s antics—to her black-booted feet. “Are you daft? Have you lost what little mind I suspect you possess? What in the name of—”

  “I love you, Cordelia.”

  “What?”

  “I love you. Perhaps from the first moment you walloped me after I rescued that Indian from you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Which probably means I’m more damaged from the war than I suspected.”

  She stared at him. “You love me?”

  A muscle ticked in his handsome jaw. Both hands locked on the saddle horn, he grimaced. “This went better in my head.”

  She grasped the railing. “You love me so much you kissed me good-bye last night and then let me get on this train?”

  “I’m slow, but eventually I get there, Cordelia.”

  She snorted. Most unladylike. But right now, she didn’t feel very ladylike. Not after the long, sleepless night she’d endured.

  “I made a terrible mistake. I’m so sorry.”

  “So what changed between the middle of nowhere and last stop, Corinne?”

  “Here’s the thing, ’Delia…”

  She steeled herself against the beguiling Irish charm Neil MacBride used with such good effect.

  His hazel eyes drifted over the rugged desert landscape. “Dodge knew me better than I knew myself. There was no last stop, Corinne for me.”

  Neil’s eyes cut to hers and locked. “For me, it’s always been last stop, Cordelia. Not the railroad. You. And if you’ll have me, I’d be honored to carry your notebooks across London or Paris or wherever the story takes you.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

  Neil sucked in his cheeks. “Of course, I’d be asking you to marry me. A lady such as yerself, what else would I be doing, pray tell?” His gaze dropped to the ground. “Marriage to me, if that’s what you’re wanting.”

  She became aware of a dozen figures crowding the side of the passenger car. Heads leaned out of every window. Listening to every word.

  “Do you mind?” She scowled at them. “This is a private conversation.”

  No one moved. “Give the lad a chance. He seems sincere. He said he was sorry.”

  She narrowed her eyes at them and then at Neil. “I’d tell you what a sincere something he is, but my mother taught me not to use words like that.”

  Neil’s hair ruffled in the breeze, flopping over his forehead. “So it’s no then? As a woman who makes her living with words, is that your last word for me?”

  And in his eyes… a deep sorrow. Aching uncertainty. Longing. His expression dulled. Hope extinguished.

  Neil blew out a measured breath between his lips—lips that had kissed her so wondrously only yesterday. “You’re right. Not sure how we’d have ever made this work between two people as different as you and me.”

&nb
sp; His gaze darted to the passengers hanging out of the windows. “Sorry to have inconvenienced everyone.” He turned Mulligan. “I best be finding my hat.”

  Tears stung her eyes. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what she wanted. It was her pride. Her stupid, abominable pride would cause her to lose everything she loved more than life itself.

  She clambered down the steps and seized hold of Mulligan’s bridle. “Wait. Don’t go. Please.” His essence tugged at her heart, filled her senses. “I love you, Neil MacBride. I do. Oh, how I do.”

  “’Delia…” Neil’s chest heaved. “You’ll either be the death or the life of me yet. Why didn’t you say that to start with?”

  “I love you, Neil.” She hung on to the bridle, half-afraid she’d lose him yet. “We’re far more alike than we’re different. We both have itchy feet, that so very American characteristic.”

  He swung out of the saddle and closed the distance between them. He cradled her against him. He twined his finger around a wisp of her hair.

  “Kiss ’er,” someone yelled.

  She rested her forehead against the broadcloth of his brown vest. “And because I love you and you love me”—her head snapped up—“you love me, right?”

  “That is the verra truth. Will you marry me so we can get the story you’re hankering after in Paris?”

  How right it felt to be in his arms. “The only thing I’m hankering after is a life with you. I’ll not be asking you to leave your blessed steam engines, Neil MacBride.”

  A slow, lazy smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “Have I told you, woman, how I luv it when you speak the Irish to me?” Her insides melted.

  “And we will find a way.” She tilted her head. “A place where we can be together. Where both our dreams can meet. Like the place where the tracks crisscross each other.”

  “ ‘The feet will always lead you to where your heart is.’ ” His arms tightened around her. “The rails will forever lead me home to you, Cordelia.”

  “Kiss her already, why don’t you, man?”

  She lifted her face to his. “Yes, please. Why don’t you?”

  And then at last, he did.

  Epilogue