Mother For His Children, A

by Drexler, Jan

  Urging his horse into a canter, Edgar rounded up the last few slow-moving steers, pushing them over the train tracks toward the station on the edge of town.

  He had his hat off and was waving the all clear to his brother Seb, who was riding flank near the middle of the herd, when he saw the break in the tracks.

  Somehow a section of the track had split. The ground was cracked open beneath the dirt and grass, maybe from the dry winter they’d had, and the connection was broken.

  There was no doubt that if the train hit this area at full speed it would derail. Passengers could be hurt or killed. A glance to the east showed the line of smoke puffing nearer, though the train wasn’t in sight yet. From here he couldn’t tell if it was slowing, but if the engineer didn’t know about the damage to the tracks, every passenger on board was at risk.

  It wasn’t his business, didn’t have a thing to do with his cattle or the job, but Edgar couldn’t let innocent people get hurt, not if there was a chance he could prevent it.

  He whistled shrilly and Seb turned, twisting in his saddle. “What’s a matter?” the younger brother shouted.

  “Take the cattle on in! I’ll follow.” Edgar waved him on, because the animals could be injured, too, if the train derailed.

  Seb waved his acquiescence and wheeled the horse back to keep the animals in line.

  Edgar took off with a cry of “Ha!” to spur his horse on. The large animal responded quickly, breaking into a gallop that nearly blew Edgar’s hat off.

  The train maintained its speed, chugging quickly toward Edgar as he raced alongside the tracks. Even if he got the attention of the engineer, could it be stopped in time?

  Briefly considering a warning shot from his rifle, Edgar dismissed the thought. The engineer might think he was some kind of robber or something. Instead, he loosened the bandanna from around his neck. He clutched the material in his hand as he leaned over the horse’s neck, urging the animal with his body for more speed.

  As he neared the train, he began waving the dark blue cloth, hoping the engineer could see it. Hoping the man would throw the brakes.

  He knew there was a chance the engineer wouldn’t stop. He whispered a prayer under his breath for the safety of the passengers he could now see through the windows on the passenger car.

  And the train began to slow with a squeal of brakes against the rails.

  Would it stop in time?

  * * *

  “What’s going on? Are we already there?”

  Will anyone take us in?

  Fran Morris heard the unasked question from her fifteen-year-old sister, Emma. And she didn’t have an answer for any of the three.

  Bracing herself against the seat in front of her inside the crowded passenger car, she peered through the window to see only grassy fields. Not a town in sight.

  That was the answer to one question.

  From the second row at the front—where the group of gray-bedecked orphans were easily seen and ogled by the other passengers—she would be one of the first to know what was going on when the car’s doors opened.

  But they weren’t in Bear Creek yet. With only two more towns scheduled for orphan train stops, they were running out of time to find a new home—and to find safety.

  “I don’t know what’s happening, Emma,” she murmured to her younger sister as she craned her neck to better see out the black-smudged window.

  Not even a barn in sight.

  “Just sit tight.” The words had been a mantra of sorts for the two of them since they’d left Memphis three days before. Stay out of sight. Unnoticed. Safe.

  Would she ever feel safe again?

  In her nineteen years, she’d never imagined leaving Memphis, the city where she’d been born and raised. And now here she was in the plains of Wyoming. Alone, except for her sister to take care of. All because one man had become obsessed with her sister. With no family to protect them, it was up to Fran to keep Emma out of Underhill’s reach.

  The train’s momentum changed, throwing her forward in the seat. The squeal of brakes became a shriek. Voices cried out from all around.

  Emma fell off the seat into the aisle.

  “Emma!”

  But Fran couldn’t catch her balance, either. She was knocked back against the seat, shoulder banging against the window, sending pain radiating up her arm. She cried out.

  “Fran!”

  Emma’s voice was lost in the shouts and cacophony as the train seemed to lift beneath them, then listed to one side.

  Screams ripped through the compartment.

  Fran reached for anything she could use to steady herself. There was nothing. “Emma!”

  Passengers screamed. Metal groaned. The car leaned, everything seemed to pause momentarily and then the train crashed onto its side.

  Fran was slammed bodily into the window, then the seat in front of her before everything went still. She found herself collapsed in a small ball between the two seats, her backside now on the window.

  Her ears rang. Her head hurt. So did her shoulder.

  “Emma?” When she could force her voice to work, it emerged in a whisper, and was lost among the cries of those nearby. She reached around, tried to shuffle to the edge of the seat where Emma had been before the wreck had happened. What had caused them to derail?

  “Emma? Emma!”

  Worry that her sister hadn’t answered had Fran scrambling toward the aisle as best she could in the lopsided car.

  Metal screeched and a bright shaft of light hit her face as she crawled into the aisle. The door, now overhead, had opened.

  Emma was nowhere in sight.

  Luggage was strewn about, blocking her attempt at movement. People all around struggled to right themselves, without much success.

  She peered up to see the shadow of a head and shoulders in the doorway above her.

  Then a big pair of boots dropped into her line of vision, landing with a reverberating thud.

  “You all right, miss?”

  She followed the deep drawl up and up and up, taking in the giant bear of a man from those tree-size legs to the broad shoulders to the unkempt blond beard and long hair beneath his cowboy hat.

  Inappropriate and ill timed as it was, when she met his sky blue eyes, she felt a shock of attraction, a lightning bolt through her nervous system like nothing she’d ever felt before.

  For this mountain of a man?

  “I need to find my sister.” Was that tentative whisper her voice? Perhaps she was more shaken from the crash than she’d thought.

  “Let’s get you out of here first.”

  “No—”

  But the man didn’t even seem to hear her protest. He clasped her waist and lifted her toward the door where she could see a man in uniform waiting with arms outstretched.

  She struggled, but it didn’t faze the huge man one bit. He shoved her into the conductor’s waiting arms, and she was unceremoniously deposited onto the side of the train car.

  “Best slide down the top, missy,” the gray-mustached man said. “Less parts for you to get caught on.” He motioned toward one side of the derailed train car.

  There was no way she was leaving without Emma, not after she’d overheard a man inquiring about them in Lincoln, Nebraska, the day before. Keeping Emma out of Mr. Underhill’s reach was imperative.

  “I’ll wait on my sister. I want to make sure she wasn’t injured.” And to make sure she was safe. Fran had scoured the passenger car and not seen the man she’d seen briefly on the Lincoln train platform, but it was too much to hope that they’d outrun those who were searching for them.

  “Then you’d better move aside. Got a lot of folks to get off this train.”

  Fran moved a few yards down the side of the train and carefully perched abov
e one of the windows. She wrapped her arms about her knees, worry making her tremble. What if Emma had been hurt?

  * * *

  Edgar had waved until his arm ached, but the conductor hadn’t been able to stop in time to avoid the broken tracks.

  Watching helplessly wasn’t a thing he liked to do, but it had been all he could do to control his horse in the face of the awful accident. The steam engine and this passenger car lay prone on their sides, but had uncoupled from a second passenger car that tilted precariously over the broken tracks. He’d left the people on that car to figure out how to get themselves off and rushed to help the other car, meeting up with the badly shaken conductor. Although the conductor had heard stories of the boiler spilling hot coals in a crash like this, it appeared the machinery was stable for now, not at risk of catching fire.

  Edgar worked like a dog to get the passengers off the downed train.

  As he worked, Edgar could still hear the little spitfire he’d come across first questioning the uniformed man. Some of the passengers he lifted up to the conductor were injured, some not.

  Even the murmur of her voice shook him.

  He’d never had such a visceral reaction to a woman before, until this little slip of a thing with her big brown doe eyes.

  For someone who made a practice of staying away from the opposite sex, it was gut-wrenching. He definitely needed to get off this train and back to the relative solitude of his pa’s ranch.

  But he couldn’t leave the passengers behind, not when they needed help. Several had been injured by falling luggage or had been thrown around when the train derailed.

  He was sweating, and felt more exhausted than he did after a long day of branding.

  He boosted a mother and her crying toddler, both of whom seemed to be blessedly uninjured, to the conductor.

  The muscles in his arms shook.

  A shadow moved in one of the windows above him. He looked up to see the young woman staring down into the car, peering through the windows.

  Their eyes connected, and he felt like someone had taken a cinch to his chest.

  Suddenly, the walls were closing in on him.

  “I’ve gotta take a breather,” he told the conductor. It had been at least an hour with no break. He was due.

  The man nodded and moved back from the opening.

  “What? No...” He could hear the girl begin to protest, even through the glass and metal. Her head appeared above the opening, partially blocking his way. “My sister...”

  He boosted himself up, forcing her to move back or bump into him.

  She didn’t go far. Just squatted on her haunches a couple feet away.

  Her nearness sent prickles up the back of his neck. His reaction irritated him.

  “I won’t be any good to anybody if I don’t rest a moment,” he told her, looking off toward the Laramie Mountains in the distance.

  The sun beat down on his shoulders, but at least outside of the enclosed car, the breeze cooled him a bit.

  “What about the other men?” the girl insisted.

  He looked around, exaggerating the movement. Several men in fancy duds that he’d pulled from the train sat on their cabooses. The conductor was short of stature and wouldn’t be any good at boosting people up. Looked like it was Edgar or nobody.

  “Everybody still in that passenger car is shook up,” he explained, trying to hold on to his patience. “And those fellas down there don’t look like they’re gonna be much help.”

  “Frances! Miss Morris!” A woman’s shout from below turned the gal’s head briefly, but she waved the older woman off, concentrating only on her mission to rescue her sister. He could relate a little bit—if one of his brothers was in danger, he would’ve physically moved the train to get to them.

  “Get down here this instant. I need all the orphans to stay together,” the woman ordered.

  Orphan.

  The word stilled everything around them, dampened the noise and commotion.

  And suddenly he saw the drab gray dress and plain, scuffed boots peeking out from beneath.

  He’d thought she was of age—wouldn’t have let himself be attracted to her if she was too young—but apparently he was wrong.

  She was an orphan on a westbound train. Just like he had been sixteen years ago.

  This time when their eyes met, he didn’t fight the connection, although nothing would ever come of it. It swelled between them into something almost tangible.

  “I’m not leaving my sister behind. We have to get her out of there,” she said, voice low and intense.

  “I will. I promise.” And he never broke his promises.

  “Miss Morris, I insist—”

  “I’m of age!” the young woman called down.

  The matron’s outraged gasp told him something was very wrong.

  And in a matter of moments, he—and everyone else in the vicinity—knew what it was.

  The orphan girl was a liar.

  The pretty young woman had pulled the wool over the orphanage chaperone’s eyes and gotten a free ride out west. She was apparently over eighteen, which made him feel a little less like a lecher for his unforeseen attraction to her.

  But her age didn’t matter. She wasn’t trustworthy. It figured.

  He knew better than anyone that women couldn’t be trusted. His past had taught him that. Save the rare exception, like his adoptive ma, Penny, not a one of them was safe.

  Knowing didn’t help the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he threw himself back into rearranging luggage and unearthing passengers in the upended train car. He was somehow disappointed in the petite young woman.

  “You need a hand in there?”

  Relief mixed with frustration as his brother Matty’s head popped in the opening above Edgar.

  “I’ve got some men from town down here ready to get the rest of the folks off this train,” his brother reported.

  “I need the doc,” he returned, looking down on a child with an obviously broken arm.

  He bent to comfort the small boy, at the same time looking around for a mother or father to match with the tyke. Voices called out from farther down in the car, but it would take some doing to get to those folks, blocked off as they were.

  Matty turned and shouted down, his words distorted because of the distance, but clearly relaying Edgar’s need. Hopefully Doc Powell, Maxwell’s father-in-law, had arrived with the other men.

  Matty lowered his bottom half through the opening and dropped inside, his boots clanging against the inside wall of the passenger car. He quickly joined Edgar at the boy’s side, shouldering aside a large valise without being asked. That was one thing to like about his brother—he did what was asked without complaining.

  “Doc’s on his way.”

  “The cattle?” Ed grunted, dislodging another trunk until they could wiggle the boy free of his former seat. “And where’s Ricky?” Matty, Ricky and Seb had all been pushing the cattle to town.

  “Don’t know about Rick, but Seb and I heard the train crash and tucked the cattle into ol’ Mr. Fredrick’s south pasture. We might have to round up a few strays tonight, but they should mostly stay put. Doubt the train is going to run this afternoon anyway.”

  Edgar should’ve known his brothers wouldn’t just turn the cattle loose—they all owed as much to their pa as he did. But Matty’s conclusion about the train troubled him. They only had a few days to get the cattle to his pa’s buyer. If the train was out, what were they going to do?

  He worked to keep a single-minded focus on that thought, on his task. But he couldn’t quite ignore the tightening of his gut when thoughts of the pretty young woman crept back in.

  * * *

  Emma was one of the last ones off the train.

  But when Emma’
s feet hit the ground and she ran toward Fran, blinding relief rushed through her.

  They embraced, Fran squeezing her sister as tightly as she could. “Are you hurt?”

  Emma shook her head. She was trembling, whether from fright or from the adrenaline of the wreck and its aftermath, Fran didn’t know.

  She watched as the cowboy and two others with him who were dressed similarly—although notably better groomed—jumped off the overturned train. They were the last three off.

  The rest of the passengers had disembarked, and now so had the three cowboys who’d come to their aid. She wished she could thank them.

  But Fran clutched Emma’s hand in hers, not daring to move from beneath the watchful eyes of the orphanage’s assigned chaperone and the sheriff.

  Her sister was scratched and bruised, same as Fran was, but had no major injuries. It was much to be thankful for.

  But being discovered in her deception was a disaster. One she hadn’t prepared for.

  “I want her arrested.” The matron’s voice rang out, hushing the rumble of other voices as passengers loaded up in wagons all around.

  Fran winced.

  She attempted a brave smile at her sister and sent a fervent prayer winging upward. The Lord hadn’t helped her any in Memphis and she questioned whether He would now, but she vowed to make herself like the annoying widow in that parable and keep on petitioning until she got the help she needed.

  She didn’t know if what she’d done was enough to be jailed and punished for—it wasn’t as if she’d stolen from the orphanage. But as Mr. Underhill had threatened her before she and Emma had snuck out of Memphis, an orphan like her didn’t have a lot of credibility. His threats and his crazed obsession with her sister had made it necessary to leave, and without any money, the orphan train had given them their only option.

  The sheriff’s sudden shrill whistle broke into her wildly racing thoughts and brought the cowboys into their periphery. The two younger men came first, while the blond man who’d taken her off the train seemed almost reluctant, his steps dragging.

  “Doc’s going to be tied up with those last two gals, and I’ve got to help get the rest of these folks to town.” The sheriff motioned around.