“I am,” he flatly said, though he didn’t sound it.
Rosalie nodded. She would have to be satisfied with Jacob’s response. His whole life, he had been somewhat difficult to read, his personality a precocious one more fitting to an introspective man of half a century than a child who’d lived hardly more than a decade.
“It will be a new start,” Rosalie said, looking back out the window. “Just think of all the friends you will make.”
“Or all the leaves I can collect,” Jacob mumbled.
She briefly glanced at him. Friends. Such an important thing to most children. But Jacob was his own person. He’d always preferred books and studying nature to playing ball and running around with other boys.
When it came to his sharp intellect and inquisitive soul, Rosalie was extremely proud. She worried a bit about his lack of a desire for friends, but she supposed that was unnecessary. Jacob would establish connections in his own time if he wished to. Rosalie looked back at the window, at the scene that was rapidly stealing most of her attention. The Rocky Mountains were gray, brown, and even white in some places--at the very tops of a few. Blankets of bright-green trees stretched across their sides. They looked so vast; she could easily believe they housed every sort of mystery left in the world.
What sort of creatures lived up in those mountains? What sort of people? What sort of men?
At the thought of men, Rosalie looked down at her hands. She didn’t have much to do with men. Not unless they were the fathers of her students. She knew Whiteridge was a mining town. It contained mostly bachelors, but a small handful of families as well.
It was because of those families that Rosalie had sold her few acres in Wisconsin, packed up her and her son, and headed west to take on a new teaching job.
Letting go of that house and land had caused her no pain. She’d sold most of the acreage to her neighbors to the north years ago, not long after her husband had up and vanished. With Enoch gone, there had been no one to farm the land. Rosalie had needed to go back to work to survive. It left no time for growing crops.
In one day, her life had been turned upside down.
And now it was happening again. Except this time it was of her own volition.
Reaching across the space between seats, Rosalie smoothed down a lock of Jacob’s hair that was sticking up. He kept on reading, his eyes scanning the page as if she wasn’t there at all.
“Do they have a post office there?” he abruptly asked, putting Frankenstein down for the first time the entire trip.
“I do not know. If not, surely there is one in the neighboring towns.”
“I hope I can get Rocky’s Adventures out here.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to.”
The Pennysaver story was one of Jacob’s favorite things to read. He’d brought all his books along from Wisconsin, but he’d read them all many times before. Rosalie had already promised she would order him a new novel soon as she was able to.
Rosalie patted her hair, looking for any parts that had come loose from the pins. When would they pull into Pathways? Surely, sometime in the next couple hours.
The journey from Wisconsin had been exhausting, and Rosalie was more than ready to have it over with.
Suddenly, an awful screeching filled the air and the train car tilted, one side lifting as the other dipped. All the passengers either screamed or yelled, and Rosalie and Jacob slammed into the windows.
Just as abruptly as the disruption happened, it ended. The train came to a stop, except this time it sat at an angle.
“It derailed,” Jacob said, looking out the window.
Rosalie wrapped her arms around him, her heart beating fast. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he answered, his voice muffled as she’d pressed his face into the crook of her arm.
Rosalie buried her cheek in his thick, brown hair. Throughout the car, people muttered exclamations and cries.
“We ran off the tracks!” a woman moaned as a small child cried.
“I’ll speak to the conductor,” a man said, standing and opening the door to the next car.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalie saw a blur of brown. Letting Jacob go, she turned to the window and saw a spooked horse standing in the sunlight.
Noticing her strayed attention, Jacob looked as well.
“Where did it come from, Mother?” Jacob asked.
“I do not know.” Opening her window, Rosalie leaned out and looked around scanning the area. The train had indeed come off the rails, and now sat unmoving as part of it was in the grass and part of it still on the tracks.
“They best get it going soon,” a man a few rows down said. “Before another train comes down the tracks and smashes into us.”
“Oh, there’s only one train a day out here,” a woman clucked at him.
Another horse appeared, this one blindingly white. A man approached the two animals from the direction of the train, a rope in his hands. The horses would not be fooled, though. One spooked and ran off, and the other followed shortly. They didn’t go far, though, instead stopping just past the end of the train.
“They must have come from the train,” Jacob said, from his spot next to Rosalie’s elbow. “The derailment knocked a door open. You can get them, Mother.”
Rosalie smiled at him. “Let’s both go.”
“I have my book.”
“Come with me.” She gave him a look that told him the situation was non-negotiable. “Bring whatever is left of your lunch.”
Being ten, Jacob would be capable of fending for himself in most situations if he absolutely needed to, but Rosalie did not like the thought of leaving him alone. Her husband had left without warning seven years before, her parents had been dead for three, and her sister Juniper had married and moved to Texas two summers ago.
Jacob was literally the only person Rosalie had left in the world.
Tucking his book under his arm, Jacob followed Rosalie down the aisle and out onto the sunny, hot valley.
Rosalie had grown up with horses. Her family had a small farm in Wisconsin, but most of the food they grew had been for their own consumption. Horses were how they made their living. Her father bred, raised, and trained thoroughbreds. People came from miles away to purchase his prize colts.
Rosalie understood the subtle signs horses gave off. She knew when an animal was receptive, or when it was about to bolt. Every time she touched a horse’s soft muzzle or offered it a treat and won it over, she remembered her father. She remembered the mornings spent with him in the stables and corrals. His knowledge regarding animals had been the best gift he’d given her besides his love.
The horses were still in the same spot they’d scooted off to, looking around anxiously. The white horse’s flank rippled, like waves crashing right beneath the skin. The man with the rope slowly approached, lasso at the ready.
“Sir,” Rosalie said in a soft voice. “Are these your horses?”
He sighed gruffly. “They’re my bossman’s. Dang things are spooked from the accident.”
“May I?”
He gave her a quick once over then shrugged. “I haven’t had much luck.”
“Jacob,” Rosalie said, “do you have...”
“Right here.” He handed her the apple he’d neglected to eat with his sandwich. For perhaps the first time ever, she was glad he had not finished a meal.
Rosalie took a loud bite of the apple. The brown horse’s ears pricked at the familiar crunching sound. Taking the piece she’d bitten off, Rosalie extended it in her palm.
The brown horse took a leery step toward Rosalie. Then another. Its white comrade still looked uncertain, making no move to come closer to either the humans or the great metal beast that it had finally escaped from.
Rosalie stood absolutely still, letting the wind twist her dress around her legs and pull strands of hair loose from her bun. The brown horse sniffed eagerly, becoming more interested in the treat.
Rosalie tilted her
palm so the wind carried the apple’s scent to the horses. Now even the white one couldn’t resist the sweet smell of the delicious fruit. It lifted a hoof, but before hard keratin made contact with soft earth, a gunshot rang through the air.
In the blink of an eye, both horses were gone, shooting like lightning across the valley.
“Mercy,” Rosalie muttered, dropping the arm extending the apple.
“Signal shot,” the man explained. “Conductor must be calling for help.”
“What now, Mother?” Jacob asked, from right behind Rosalie.
Rosalie watched the horses growing smaller. She almost didn’t care that she hadn’t managed to catch them. Whatever life they’d come from, they were free of it now. Like her, they’d found themselves in a new land, with everything they’d ever known far behind them.
With that kind of invigorating freedom, who wouldn’t want to run and never stop?
Chapter 3
understatement of his life
3. Noah
Chapter three
The sound of a gunshot made Noah stop the wagon in its tracks. He craned his neck to hear where the shot had originated from. It was hard to tell for certain, but he thought it had come from south of Pathways, from about the spot where the railroad swung to avoid the river.
Pushing his hat lower to shield his eyes from the Spring sun, he peered in the direction of the track. Since there was a hill not far off, he couldn’t make out where the train tracks were yet, but he knew he was close.
Lightly slapping the reins against the horses’ flanks, he set off again, leaving the road and taking the wagon through the grass. It was slow going, and nerves spun in Noah at first. If the train was being attacked, there wasn’t much he could do to help right away. He’d need to ride off for town and fetch more men. As he got closer to the hill’s crest, though, and no more gunshots sounded out, he calmed down. All signs pointed to someone signaling for help, rather than there being some kind of disagreement.
At the top of the hill, Noah whistled low. The train, presumably the one carrying Whiteridge’s new schoolteacher, had gone off the track. Part of it sat in the grass, and part of it had stayed on the rails at an awkward angle.
Half a dozen or so people milled around by the train, and Noah recognized Pathways’ Sheriff Carlson talking to a man who was probably the conductor.
“Well, I suppose this shaves a bit off of our time,” Noah said to the horses as he took them down the hill. “We no longer have to drive into town.” In the shade of the train, he pulled the brake up and jumped to the ground.
“What happened here?” Noah asked no one in particular.
“Train went off the rails,” a man said. “We’re hearing something about a twisted part.”
A woman turned, and Noah sucked in a breath, every part of his body went still--except for his heart, which thundered in his chest. The face looking back at him was one of the most beautiful he’d ever seen, composed of delicate features, full, dark lips, and bright, hazel eyes.
For a moment, Noah just stared at the woman. He knew he had to say something, but his mind only drew a blank.
“Did you see any loose horses?” a boy’s voice asked, and Noah suddenly noticed the dark-haired boy standing next to the woman.
The woman tilted her head. “Two horses escaped and ran off,” she explained pointing to the south.
“That’s too bad,” Noah answered sincerely. “No, I didn’t see them.”
“Shoot,” a man holding a rope said. He shook his head and spit on the ground.
“But, I bet I can find them,” Noah added.
That got the interest of all three of them: the boy, the man with the rope, and the woman, who was smiling the slightest bit at Noah.
Or was he imagining that last part?
“You can find them?” the woman asked.
“Hopefully,” Noah said. “I know a fair amount about tracking.” His gaze strayed to the train. “And it looks like you all have time to wait for me. At this point, you’d probably do better walking to Pathways.”
The woman exhaled unhappily. “Oh, no. We are meeting someone there. I hope he won’t worry.”
Noah’s chest tightened. Who was she meeting? A husband?
Out of the corner of his eye, Noah checked out her left hand. No ring. Was a beau picking her up from the train station, then?
The woman wrung her hands. “I apologize. I am simply a tad nervous.”
“She’s starting a new job this week,” the boy explained, shifting a book from under one arm to the other.
“A new job?” Noah repeated, his interest piqued.
“Yes,” she said. “As the schoolteacher in Whiteridge.”
Joy filled Noah. This beautiful creature was the new schoolteacher he’d come to pick up? Whatever happened to the stooped-over, grumpy teachers from his school days?
“You don’t say,” Noah answered, a smile tugging at his lips.
“What about the horses?” the rope-man asked. “You said you have some tracking skills?”
Noah nodded. “My brother taught me a fair amount. I’d be happy to lend a hand.”
“It sure would be appreciated,” the man answered. “I need to fetch those two quick. They’re being shipped to my boss in Greenville, and he won’t be happy if he don’t receive them.”
“We’ll get them,” Noah said.
“I’m coming with you.” The schoolteacher stepped forward. What was her name? Finn something. Rose? Rosalyn?
“I know about horses,” Miss Flynn said. “My father bred and trained them. I can be of assistance.”
“Right then.” Noah tried to stop himself from smiling, afraid he was going to give away how strongly the brunette’s beauty affected him.
“Which way did they go?” Noah asked.
They showed him, and Noah nodded in satisfaction. “Likely, they’re down by the river.”
The four of them tromped off, pushing through the grasses and down toward the river. In the shade of the saplings there, Noah bent and inspected the mud and rocks.
“There.” He pointed.
“I don’t see anything,” the boy said, squatting down next to Noah and studying the mud. He still carried the book, and there was an intense look of concentration on his face as he studied the water.
“In the mud.” Noah showed him the slight hoof prints. The mud wasn’t much, mixed in with pebbles. Noah knew what he’d been looking for, though.
“You can see the indentations there,” he said.
The other two people looked as well.
“Oh!” Miss Flynn exclaimed. “I wouldn’t have even noticed that.”
A sense of pride filled Noah. “Looks like they went north up the river.”
“How do you know it was my two?” the man asked.
“It rained last night,” Noah answered. “Heavy. That pushed all these pebbles up on the bank. Mixed ‘em in with fresh mud. There aren’t any wild herds around here. Not this close to town. It’s your horses.”
Satisfied, Noah stood. The others didn’t object, instead following him down the river.
“There they are,” the boy whispered after a few minutes’ walk.
The humans halted where they were, staying behind a collection of large rocks and watched the horses as they nosed in the grasses at the river’s edge.
“I’m gonna walk up nice and slow,” Noah whispered.
“I’ll go with you.”
It was Miss Flynn who’d spoken, and as Noah looked at her intense face, all her focus on the horses, he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny her. Even if her presence scared the horses and he ended up not catching them at all, it would be worth it. How could anyone say no to such a woman?
Pulling an apple from her pocket, Miss Flynn led the way. Noah followed close behind with the two ropes the man had given him. The horses looked up as they approached, their uncertainty evident.
Miss Flynn spoke to them softly, cooing and cajoling them to approach her. Noah w
atched in awe, his appreciation for the schoolteacher growing by the moment as she took one rope at a time and put them over the horses’ necks. The task taken care of, she turned to him with a beaming face.
“There,” she said simply.
Noah chuckled and took the end of the rope from her. “Are you sure you didn’t miss your calling as a cowboy?”
Her Silent Burden (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book) Page 26