* * * *
The train that would take them west was still being made up when they arrived back at the station. They stood inside the depot, staring through the grimy window as the switch engine moved railcars forward and back, sometimes a fair distance, sometimes only a few feet. Katie shivered as an icy draft whistled under the poorly fitting door and tangled about her feet.
Her mind worked furiously, but it was like a chipmunk on open ground trying to escape a hunting hawk--scurrying around and around without getting anywhere.
The worst of her situation now was not knowing what to expect. She knew that had been Mr. Won't-Take-No-For-An-Answer Whitney on the observation platform, even though she hadn't seen him clearly.
What was she going to do? The farther she traveled, the fewer people would be about. If she got off the train and took the stage, Whitney could catch up with her again at any station where the stage road crossed the railroad.
There were many of those. Charles had shown her a map, tracing the route she and Ellen had followed on their way East. Remarking on how closely the final Union Pacific rail would follow that same route.
Katie knew what her Pa would advise her. "Strike first. Don't wait for the other fellow to make his move, 'cause he might be meanin' to kill you."
The call to board came. Their railcar was almost full now. Most of the other passengers were soldiers, bound for the forts along the railroad route or men on their way to End-of-Track, where workers were always needed. A family occupied the three seats closest to the pot-bellied stove at one end, and a man and woman who looked enough alike to be twins sat across the aisle. By the time Katie and Luke got aboard, the only seats left were at the far end.
Once more Luke gave her the window seat. He slid his long legs into the aisle, rested his head against the hard wooden seat back, and tipped his hat down to cover his eyes. If he didn't wake with a crick in his neck, she'd be surprised.
If only she could sleep like that! But to do so would mean that she wasn't thinking. And the thoughts would not go away.
Luke's voice echoed in her mind. You gonna go back there and shoot him?
She'd had her derringer in her hand. She could have gotten close enough to shoot him. And she'd been almost mad enough to do it. How dared he pursue her like this!
So far Whitney hadn't given any indication that he meant her harm. Even if he was to force her to go back to Boston with him, that wasn't a killing offense. She couldn't just shoot him down in cold blood. Even the thought of shooting to wound him sickened her.
Maybe she wasn't scared enough yet. Another thing Pa had told her was that there wasn't anything better than pure hair-on-end fright to stiffen the backbone. He'd told of men fighting off grizzly bears with teeth and fingernails, or running a hundred miles barefoot and living to tell about it. "All because they were scared, Katie girl. Fear is a powerful force, and don't you ever forget it. Let yourself be good and scared, and you'll find strength you never knew you had."
Somehow she just couldn't take a man who wore spats and pale gray kid gloves seriously enough to be truly scared of him. Or maybe it was Whitney's face, long and narrow--he really did look like a horse!
If she was at home, she'd lay a trap for him. Catch him good. Tie him up and ship him back to Boston. Katie stifled a giggle at the mental picture of Hamilton Steens Whitney III with feet tied together like you would take a goose to market, arms waving, mouth working as he quacked and hissed to beat the band.
Stop it, Katie Lachlan! This is no laughing matter!
Encouraged all her life to be independent and self-reliant, Katie had never doubted her ability to handle any situation she found herself in. She'd learned to hunt and fish as a child, contributing her share to the family larder. She could plow as straight a furrow as her brothers' and could fell a tree exactly where she wanted it. At her mother's insistence, she'd also learned to sew a fine seam and cook up a storm.
What she'd never learned to do was ask for help. And she had an awful feeling that she needed to.
Bleary-eyed and aching, she still sat with her head against the window when they pulled into Laramie, six hours after leaving Cheyenne.
Luke woke as the train slowed. He sat up and rubbed his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Yawned. Smoothed his mustache and resettled his broad-brimmed hat. "Laramie?"
Katie nodded. "Luke?"
He covered his mouth as another yawn took him. "Hmmm?"
"Are you dead set on getting off in Laramie?"
"No," he said. "I ain't what you'd call 'dead set.' Why?"
"Well, I was wondering..." She looked at him from under her lashes. "Something you said..."
One eyebrow rose and his mouth twitched. "Um-hmm?"
Clenching her fists in her lap, Katie looked him straight in the eye. "I'll pay you a hundred dollars to see me safely to Salt Lake City."
When he hesitated, she added, "In gold."
Chapter Seven
Well, hell!
Luke looked outside at lights scattered like distant stars through the pre-dawn dark. The train was hardly moving. Even as he watched, ghostly lines of silent boxcars materialized out of the night. There wasn't a depot in sight.
He spoke to the window, not to Katie. "You wouldn't have to pay me."
"I know that. But a hundred dollars would cover boarding your animals while you see me to Salt Lake City and still give you a profit."
Wishing he could tell her the truth, Luke decided to make sure that she knew what she'd be getting for her hundred dollars. Not that he intended to take it, but he couldn't even tell her that, not now. "Katie, I ain't the kind of fellow you'd want to guard you. He...heck, I don't even carry a gun." Not any more.
"That's all right. I do."
"That's right. You do." And it made her feel indestructible, too, didn't it? "You figure one bullet would stop Whitney and both of his bullyboys?"
"It would slow them down!"
"Which one of 'em?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Luke, I wouldn't have to shoot anybody. Just make them think I would." She patted her pocket, the one weighted down by the derringer. "I'm not some helpless ninny, asking you to protect poor little me. I need someone to watch my back, so his bullies can't sneak up behind me. If I see Mr. Boston-dude Whitney coming, he won't have a chance. Not now that I know what he's up to."
"Damn it, Katie--"
"Hey, you folks mind keeping it down?" a hoarse voice called from a few seats back. "Some of us are trying to sleep."
Luke lowered his voice. "Maybe the best thing for you to do is find yourself a lawman. There's bound to be a sheriff or marshal in Laramie." He knew he'd never convince her that little derringer wasn't much better than a toy.
"Oh, sure." Her glare just about scorched his hide. "And what am I going to tell him? That the swell in the private rail car--a millionaire, in all likelihood--is trying to kidnap a plain little nobody from Idaho?" She shook her head. "Would you believe me?" Leaning forward, she put her face up close to his. "Do you believe me? Really?"
"Katie, I...ah...." The train jerked to a stop and she landed hard against him. Luke instinctively put his arms around her. How good she felt. Warm. Sweet-smelling. He tightened his arms for just a moment, wishing their heavy wool coats weren't so bulky. Only a hint of her soft female shape lay against his chest.
Pushing herself back upright, Katie said, "Hah! I knew it. You think I'm imagining things. That I'm making it all up." She shoved at his chest with both hands. "Well, let me tell--"
"Lady, I don't care what you're telling him," a new voice called out, "but could you do it a little quieter? It's the middle of the goddam night!"
"Sorry," Katie whispered. In a barely audible voice, she said, "Two hundred dollars. To Salt Lake City. That's a week, give or take a day. Pretty good wages."
Damn good wages. Luke couldn't help but be tempted. Two hundred dollars--on top of what he was already being paid--could carry him through the winter, feed his stock and himself,
keep roofs over all their heads, and leave him with his poker winnings to get started in the spring. "Gold?" he said.
Shaking her head, Katie said, "A hundred in gold. The rest in banknotes."
God! What was he doing? He couldn't take her money--not for doing what he was already paid to do. But he couldn't tell her that, either. What a damnable predicament. On the other hand, he'd been looking for a convincing excuse to stick as close to her as a bullsnake on a mouse's trail.
One problem though. "You might not be the only one who's bein' followed. There's a good chance some kin of a fellow I...I fought, back in Kansas, are after me."
"Bad men?"
"Real bad men, Katie. They'd just as soon kill you as look at you." And in her case, they'd do a lot worse than kill her.
"Then we'd both be better off if we teamed up. We can watch out for each other."
Still Luke hesitated. He didn't want her thinking this was some kind of great adventure.
Still he wouldn't mind having her alert and watching for trouble. "Well, it ain't as if I've got somewhere special to go."
Her smile was enough to light up the railcar. "Fine! I'll pay you half in advance. The rest when we get to Salt Lake City."
"Wait a minute, here," Luke said, holding his hands up, palms out. "Not so fast. I ain't said I'd do it." He rubbed his bristly chin, wishing he'd taken time to shave in Omaha. "I've got to consider my stock." No sense letting her think he'd taken the bait too easy.
Occasional small jerks indicated that railcars were being coupled and uncoupled. The trains that went on past Laramie were primarily freights, with passenger cars added when needed for soldiers, laborers, and the occasional traveler. They ran on no set schedule, and made few stops other than those necessary to take on water and fuel.
"Well?" Katie prodded.
Seemed like he'd been taking care of somebody ever since he was a tyke himself. First his sister, then Pa, after Ma died. And in the Army...well, he'd been real grateful when they'd sent him off to Washington with dispatches. After he'd been promoted at Antietam, he'd found the responsibility of leading a platoon almost more than he could handle. Every time one of his men was wounded or killed, he took it personal.
As he should have. They'd been his to lead and protect. And all he'd done was lead 'em into Hell.
Would he let Katie down the same way?
No! He'd keep her safe, or die trying.
The train came to a jerking stop. Outside Luke could see the dim outlines of a half-built structure.
"Laramie!" cried the conductor, just his head inside the door from the vestibule. "Breakfast stop."
Katie rolled her quilt.
Luke picked up his bedroll and tapped his hat more securely on his head. Even inside, he could hear the whistle of the wind.
"Luke?"
"Yeah, I'll do it," he said, knowing that sooner or later he'd have to tell her the truth. She'd blame him, then, not her brother-in-law. Not Whitney, who was the cause of this whole crazy situation. Nope, she'd blame Luke Savage, who'd lied to her. The thought left a big hollow feeling in his gut. "I'll be taking my stock as far as I can, though."
"Then you'd better buy extra feed. We need to shop, too. Charles--my brother-in-law--warned me that I'd need to carry food, since there aren't any more regular meal stopsfrom here on. Not 'til we board the stage, anyhow." She picked up her fiddle case and ledthe way into the vestibule where the conductor handed her down the steps.
Already regretting his rash decision, Luke paused. "Who do I talk to about taking my stock on to End-of-Track?"
The conductor motioned toward the unfinished depot. "Talk to the agent." As they walked away, he called, "Your train'll be pullin' out about two this afternoon, but you'd best be back here earlier than that."
Luke touched his hat brim in acknowledgement.
They walked across the wooden platform toward the big shed-like building that served as a temporary depot. Inside a single oil lamp hardly lit the counter, let alone the far reaches of the cavernous room. Luke didn't see the man standing by the door until he spoke.
"Good morning, Miss Lachlan. I trust your journey has been pleasant thus far."
Katie stopped. "What do you want?" she said, her voice sharp. "Why are you following me?"
"Why, I thought that was evident, my dear. We are meant for each other."
"You're crazy!"
"Don't you call me--" Whitney visibly controlled himself. "I become remarkably weary of your resistance, madam. Unless you come to your senses soon, I shall have to take extreme measures."
Luke pulled Katie behind him. Stepping close enough to smell Whitney's bay rum, he said "Look here, mister. I don't reckon Miss Lachlan wants anything to do with you. You just go on back there where you came from and leave her be."
"You, sir, are impertinent. I am Hamilton Steens Whitney III, and I intend Miss Lachlan to be my bride. Do you understand?"
"Yeah. I understand that you're gettin' a mite big for your fancy britches. This ain't Boston, mister, and what you want don't count for a hill of beans." He stepped back, looked Whitney up and down. "You leave Miss Lachlan alone from here on, or you and me will be locking horns."
Behind him, he heard Katie gasp. He gave her a quick frowning look. Don't say it! he mouthed.
Grabbing her hand, he stepped around Whitney and walked up to the makeshift counter where the Union Pacific agent stood. "I need space on a stock car for two asses and a mule to End-of-Track," he said, keeping his voice low. "Can you accommodate me?"
"Luke, I didn't mean for you--"
"Hush. You hired me to do a job. Let me do it my way."
"But--"
"Later, Katie. We've got things to do first."
"Luke, will you listen?"
"Not now." He glanced over his shoulder, saw that Whitney had gone. "I've got a little feed left," he said to the agent, "but I'll be wanting more. Where can I pick up a bag of oats? And will I be able to get water for my stock along the way, or do I have to pick up a barrel, too?"
As soon as they were out on the platform, Katie grabbed his left arm and pulled him to a halt. "What did you think you were doing, facing Mr. Third-rate Whitney down like that? I hired you to watch my back, not to fight over me, doggone it!"
Reining in his own anger, Luke said, "Seems to me it's better to stop trouble before it starts than to deal with it once it's under full steam."
She appeared to think about that for a moment. But then she said, "And another thing. You stood right there and talked about going to End-of-Track so he could hear every word."
"He knows where you're headed, doesn't he?"
"Well, yes, but maybe he didn't know how I was to get there."
Shrugging, Luke said, "I don't see that it matters. There's only two ways to get to Salt Lake City--by stage or on the train. I'd just as soon know where to watch for him."
"Oh, for--" Katie's foot made a sharp thud on the wooden platform. "You argue just like my brother."
He looked at her, wondering if she really saw him as some kind of kin. "Believe me, Katie, I ain't your brother." And when I see you safe to your pa, when I ain't responsible for you anymore, I'll show you just what I am.
Katie continued to fume as they walked into town. Laramie--what there was of it--reminded her of gold towns back home. It was raw, vital, rough around the edges. New construction was everywhere. A hotel was half-built, one which would have grand bedrooms. A storekeeper told them that there were presently no sleeping accommodations for travelers in Laramie City except railcars set up with bunks. "But that hotel bein' built will be as fine as anything in Denver," he boasted.
After arranging for their provisions to be delivered to the depot, Katie and Luke entered one of the several tents that advertised meals. It was furnished with rough, dirty wooden tables and benches, with a bed and some chests in one corner. Apparently the proprietor and his family lived right there.
"I grew up in the wilderness," Katie told Luke quietly, after th
ey'd seated themselves, "but we never lived like this. It's awful!"
"We got beans and bacon, beans and buffalo, beans and cornbread, and beans and tortillas. What'll it be?" the bewhiskered waiter said, leaning across Katie to wipe at spilled food on the splintered table surface.
They gave their orders and he left after pouring them each a mug of steaming, fragrant coffee.
"You don't look like you even know what wilderness is, let alone ever lived there," Luke observed, looking her up and down.
She shivered as if his hand, instead of his gaze, had stroked down her body. Stop it, girl! Keep your mind on what you're saying. "There were only two cabins in Cherry Vale--ours and my godparents'. We were about fifty miles from the nearest trading post--and they were hard miles. Once in a while somebody would wander in, but mostly the only folks we saw from year to year were my godmother's Nez Perce kin."
"Your godmother's an Indian?"
Katie nodded, wondering what Luke would say if she told him about the rest of her unusual family. "I wasn't quite fourteen when we moved to Boise City. I'd never seen so many people in one place in my life." Shaking her head, she chuckled. "Then Ma took me back East to school right after the War ended." She lifted her cup, swallowed the lump in her throat along with the coffee.
"I haven't been home in more than three years." Swallowing again, she set the cup down again and smiled. "I'll bet you're not a city boy either."
"My pa was one of the first settlers on Butternut Creek," Luke told her. "We lived in a soddy, like a lot of Kansans did, but Ma fixed it up real nice. We even had a cloth ceiling, so the bugs wouldn't fall on us." He looked around the big tent, shaking his head. "Compared to this, we lived pretty well. The soddy was right cozy, except when a big rain hit. Then it would drip some."
Katie smiled. "My mother tells of times before they had a wood floor in the cabin. When the spring thaws hit, sometimes water would come in under the door. But that was before I was old enough to remember." She looked around the tent again, seeing the woman half hidden in the corner. She had no privacy while she nursed her babe, nor did her older children have any place to play except among the tables. "Compared to this, we lived in a palace."
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