by Sara Orwig
Caleb sat as quietly as he did at poker and he felt as if he were at the same game. Only the stakes were higher than any he had ever wagered in poker. He glanced at Blodgett to see a faint smile on his face. Willard Heaton looked as if he held a winning hand. Trevitt’s brow was wrinkled in a frown.
“You both want backing and both of you are determined to get these new lines going in spite of shortages from the war and the difficulties building West by other railroad people.
“We’ve weighed which company to go with, which stock might be the most profitable. How it would benefit us as investors. What we’ve decided is to put one million dollars into one of these lines,” Heaton said.
Caleb’s pulse jumped at the announcement. The question was, which railroad?
“We want part interest for our investment.”
“That sounds fair enough,” Caleb said. He had several people already who had part interest, but he and Will had control and he would keep it that way.
“That’s good,” Trevitt said, suddenly relaxing as if he knew his was the railroad getting the money. “Gentlemen, you’ll get your money’s worth. Memphis to Springfield to Kansas City. This will make Memphis thrive.” He glanced at Caleb. “And if you’ve brought us here to decide which railroad to place your investments with, I can promise you there’s more future in Missouri and Springfield and Kansas City, than in Arkansas and Shreveport.”
“They both hold golden possibilities with this country growing the way it is,” Blodgett declared. “You both should go in together. Make it one business.”
“I’m afraid that would be impossible,” Trevitt said.
“We thought you might think so,” Heaton said, amusement in his voice. “So we have an offer to make.”
“An offer that will be satisfactory to all of us except one,” Horace Dooley added in his tenor voice.
“What we have in mind,” Willard said, leaning back in his chair and glancing back and forth between Trevitt and Caleb, “is something of a challenge for both of you.”
“With a big reward for the winner,” Blodgett added.
“We’ve figured the miles,” Heaton went on, “and of course, they can’t be exactly the same, but Dunstan, you already have fifty miles of track down. If you can get your line running daily between Hopefield and Mamouth Springs—that’s some one hundred and twelve more miles.” He shifted in his seat to look at Caleb. “And, Caleb, if you can get your line running daily from Stuttgart, Arkansas to Memphis—some one hundred and fourteen miles, we’ll give the money to the man who has the first official run of his train into Hopefield from those two points.”
Caleb stared at him while he thought about it.
“Mamouth Springs to Hopefield and Stuttgart to Hopefield?” Dunstan asked, his frown vanishing.
“The owner of the first engine to get here will get the money. Your line has to make daily runs thereafter. This way, gentlemen, it’s an entertaining as well as profitable offer. We’ll take bets on the outcome, you’ll have a race, and someone will profit greatly. Of course, someone will lose, too.”
Caleb was astonished by the offer, and his mind raced over the possibilities. He had nothing to lose from the offer and one million dollars to gain.
“I think it’s a grand offer!” Dunstan exclaimed, settling back and taking a deep puff on the cigar and grinning, glancing at Caleb.
“I agree,” Caleb said. “The offer is generous, and I’m happy to accept.”
“Good!” Heaton exclaimed standing up and crossing to a table in front of a window. He opened a decanter and splashed whiskey into five glasses and passed them out, finally raising his glass for a toast. “May the fastest man win.”
Caleb drank and looked over the rim of his glass into Dunstan Trevitt’s cold blue eyes.
It was eight o’clock that night before Sophia heard footsteps on the porch and the key turned in the lock. Caleb entered, and her heart pounded with joy as she crossed the hall to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.
He bent over her, his kisses scalding until he picked her up and carried her to bed, his fingers reaching to the tiny buttons down the back of her dress. “Sophia, love, I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
She gazed up at him and then pulled him down to her.
Later in bed, Sophia lay in his arms while he talked, his voice deep and mellow. A small lamp glowed beside the bed.
“I saw Willard Heaton today.”
She twisted around to prop her head on her elbow to look at him. She tucked the sheet beneath her arms, and with a smile he pushed it away. Sophia gazed into his eyes and felt a surge of love for him. “I can’t believe you’re here and you’re mine,” she said softly, kissing his shoulder. “You frightened me when I first met you.”
“The hell you say,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “You hid your fright well, Miss Merrick. I remember getting doused with a pitcher of water and grown men running for their lives and their liquor.”
“Caleb, you are a rogue.”
“I have my good points.”
“At least one,” she teased, rubbing against him and letting her hand slide beneath the sheet down over his groin. He inhaled deeply and caught her hand.
“Let me tell you about Heaton. You can’t guess what those three proposed.”
“I’ve heard that Willard Heaton isn’t scrupulous.”
“I’ll take my chances. They had Trevitt there, too.”
“Dunstan?” She raised up, a tiny knot of worry coming. She didn’t want Caleb involved with Dunstan Trevitt.
Caleb ran his fingers along her chin to her ear, catching a long, silky lock and curling it around his fingers. “They’re going to invest one million dollars in one of the railroads.”
“A million! Which railroad?”
His eyes were crystal green, thickly lashed, and her curiosity was keen about the railroad, yet she was more interested in looking at Caleb.
“Whoever gets his train into Memphis first. I have to have the line running from Stuttgart to Hopefield and Trevitt has to have his running from Mamouth Springs, Arkansas, to Hopefield.”
“I thought Dunstan already has miles of track laid.”
“He does. Mamouth Springs is over a hundred miles beyond where he has track.”
She frowned and sat up, folding her legs and holding the sheet in front of her. “I don’t like the offer, Caleb. It pits you against Dunstan, and there’s enough bad blood between you both now. He will stoop to anything to get what he wants.”
“It’s for a million-dollar investment. If I try and I beat him—I’ll get their money. I don’t have anything to lose by trying.”
“You might if you have to fight Dunstan.”
“We won’t be fighting. He’ll be busy with his track, and I’ll be busy with mine.”
“He is a cheating snake who would do anything to get his way. You can get hurt.”
“I’m damned sure not afraid of Trevitt.” He tugged gently on the sheet, his voice changing to a husky baritone. “Come here, Sophia.”
“You’re trying to get me away from the subject of Trevitt. Don’t race him,” she cautioned.
“I’m not going to back down from competing with him. He doesn’t frighten me.” Caleb’s voice was languid, his eyes half closed as he ran his finger along a fold of the sheet where it crossed her bare breast. She drew her breath, feeling desire fan to life.
“Caleb.”
He tugged the sheet out of her hands and cupped her full breasts, filling his large hands and flicking his thumbs over her nipples. His fingers were dark against her pale flesh. She gasped and closed her eyes, tilting back her head, and then she looked down and ran her hands over his body, pushing the sheet down past his knees, bending to kiss his thigh. “Caleb, I love you.”
He groaned and pulled her down on top of him and in minutes they were lost to passion.
An hour later Caleb extricated himself and crossed the room to his trousers. Her gaze ran the length of his back, the muscl
es rippling beneath his bronze skin. It still worried her to see the scar across his back, and she felt a surge of gratitude he had survived the war. She had lost everyone else she loved in it. Caleb rummaged in his pockets and pulled out something to return to her. She raised on her elbows to look at him, feeling desire blossom as she ran her gaze over his chest and flat belly down to his manhood.
He came down over her to prop himself on his elbows. “I brought you something from New Orleans.”
He handed her a small leather pouch. She shook it and a necklace fell into her hand, the diamond catching the light.
“Caleb! It’s beautiful,” she cried, awed, turning it in her fingers and then looking at him. “It’s lovely.”
“It’s an engagement gift. I want a date set so we can announce it to everyone.”
“We have to wait until Chantal has her baby if we want Rafe and her to be here. January may be terrible weather for them to travel.” She pushed at him and sat up. “Put this on me.”
Smiling at her, he sat back with his legs folded under him on either side of her as the covers fell away an the diamond lay above her bare breasts. “Beautiful,” he whispered, cupping her breasts as she closed her eyes and inhaled.
He moved his hands to her face. “Look at me. Give me a date.”
“How about the first week in February? February second?”
“Too far away, but I want Rafe and his family here. Fortune is in Virginia now, and I’ll write him. With this much notice, everyone should be able to get here.”
“Caleb, come here,” she whispered.
He kissed her, driving her to a frenzy, his fingers exquisite torment that made her hips shift. Then he possessed her, thrusting hard, moving with her.
Later when they were dressed, she brushed her hair. She wore her gown and wrapper and watched him fasten his shirt. He looked solemn, and she wondered if he were worrying about his railroad. The diamond winked in the light and she touched it.
“Caleb, this is beautiful. Thank you.”
He crossed the room to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her golden hair spilled in a cascade over her shoulders and his gaze ran over her features before he looked into her eyes.
“I need to get back to the hotel, but before I go there’s one more thing that we have to settle and it might as well be tonight.”
Suddenly Sophia felt a sense of dread. He was somber, his voice gruff, and she knew how they could clash. “Can it wait?”
“No. There’s no sense in postponing it, and I want things settled when I invite my family to our wedding. I want you to sell the paper. I want you home.”
Shocked, she stared at him and felt rebellion rising over his demand. She frowned. “You know what the paper means to me. I know the men who survived the war are home by now, which means I’ve lost all my brothers, so I’m not keeping it for their sakes, but it is part of my tie to my family’s memory. It is part of my life. It’s like asking you to give up your railroads.”
“No, it’s not. You know it’s different. If we have children, what will you do? Ignore them for the paper?”
“No. I’ll hire someone to run it.”
“And you’ll be there half the time. And it opposes things I support. Don’t you think it will be ridiculous if you try to drive the saloonkeepers out of town and I patronize them?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, becoming angry with him. His request was unreasonable and Caleb could be so stubborn. “I think you should stop patronizing them! You don’t need to gamble, Caleb.”
“No, but I enjoy it and I don’t lose money at it and I don’t gamble often. I haven’t since the war. Get rid of the paper, Sophia. I don’t want my wife tied to a newspaper in an office in town.”
She moved away from him angrily, feeling that he was demanding the impossible, thinking of her father and remembering clearly hearing him as he looked down at her: “Always remember, Sophia, do your duty. That’s what’s important. Be true to duty and don’t shirk the unpleasant tasks.”
“I’m not giving up the paper.” Always, she had known that one day this argument might rise between them, yet she had shut it out of mind.
“You’re an independent woman, Sophia, but I insist on this. There’s no reason for you to cling to the paper.” They stared at each other and Caleb’s green eyes were fiery. “I’ll not marry a woman tied to an office.” He turned and strode through the room, yanking open the door. She heard his boots scrape the boards as he went down the hall. The back door slammed.
Stunned, she stared after him, thoughts tumbling in her head. She wouldn’t give up the paper. Caleb was unreasonable, impulsive. It was ridiculous for him to want her to get rid of the paper. He would be back to discuss it. And if he didn’t come back? Her thoughts skittered away from the idea. For three long years she had held to the dream of his coming home to her, and then he did. She couldn’t believe she would lose him now.
Chapter 21
Caleb stripped off his shirt beneath the warm sun and waved his hand. “Move the wagon forward!” he shouted.
Two days of rain had turned the ground into a quagmire. Now the sun was bright, the earth steaming and warm. Darcy shoveled gravel from a flatcar, building up the granite ballast. Fifteen now, Darcy had grown two inches this year and was almost as tall as Caleb. He was thin, flesh barely covering his bony frame, his hands and feet and shoulders looking too large for the rest of him. He looked like Rafe and Fortune, except his black hair was straight.
Darcy hadn’t ever done hard manual labor. How well could he keep up the pace? So far he was managing on one of the roughest crews of all.
Caleb motioned to the wagon coming behind, six men unloading the sleepers. Two men remained with the wagon, passing out the short wooden ties to others who set them in place on the ballast.
The rain had been two frustrating days of delay. Now it felt good to be occupied, to see progress. The first twenty days, he thought he had lost the race to Dunstan, because they were slow, the men impatient, tempers flaring, but gradually teams began to develop a rhythm and work together efficiently.
A bridge crew headed by an Irishman named Knute O’Toole worked ahead of the track-laying crew, and Caleb felt he had the best engineer possible in Knute. He had tough crews, but he made sure they were well fed and well paid.
He was busy every waking minute, yet it still didn’t shut out the hurt and anger over Sophia.
He moved down the line, his long legs stretching out until he reached the ballast crew. “Hurry it up! You’re slowing!” Moving farther down the line to the cars carrying the rails, Caleb swung up on a flatcar. Men following the wooden sleeper crew slid the long rails to the ground. Other men set them in place, fastening them in position.
“Boss!”
Jas Connors ran toward him. Stocky, missing three fingers and half his teeth from the war, Jas was a good worker and Caleb had fought with him at Shiloh. He waved his hand as he ran.
“Your brother’s in a fight with Sweeney.”
Caleb looked down the line of men and wagons and mules. He saw a cluster of men in the distance. He jumped down and strode forward. There had been only three fights since they started, and he had ended each of them quickly. He wanted the fights to stop. They had to learn to work efficiently together if he was going to win a race. His usual impatience with fighting was secondary now to apprehension. Darcy had grown up in New Orleans and at Belle Destin with Chantal and Amity. He hadn’t had the rough and tumble life of his three older brothers and as far as Caleb knew, Darcy hadn’t ever been in a fight. And Drake Sweeney was over six feet and over two hundred pounds of trouble. This was his second fight.
“Want a pistol, boss? Sweeney ain’t reasonable when he’s provoked.”
“No.” He hadn’t carried a gun since the war, and he wasn’t going to start now.
Men were silent as he approached, an ominous sign because they usually chose sides and made bets. Caleb knew no one would interfere.
Someone glanced
over his shoulder and punched another man and the crowd parted for Caleb.
Darcy stumbled and sprawled on the ground; Sweeney kicked him in the ribs and Caleb clenched his fists, fighting the urge to wade into it and slug Sweeney. If it were anyone besides his younger brother, he would stop it. A fight was bad business, but he suspected Darcy would never forgive him stopping it in front of all these men.
Darcy rolled to his feet. His nose bled, his mouth was cut, his cheek cut, his eye puffed closed. Caleb drew a deep breath.
Sweeney’s right fist lashed out and Darcy dodged, just missing a hammer blow. Sweeney threw a wild swing with his left.
Darcy ducked and threw his right, pivoting with his weight behind it and landing the blow on Sweeney’s neck. Sweeney staggered and Darcy threw himself at Sweeney, slamming into him and wrapping his long arms around Sweeney. The momentum carried them backward as Sweeney pounded Darcy.
Caleb saw where they were headed. Darcy ran, keeping Sweeney off balance and staggering back. The back of Sweeney’s knees slammed against the flatcar and Darcy’s weight carried him down. Knocked off his feet, Sweeney sprawled on the flatcar. Darcy grabbed Sweeney’s shoulders and banged his head on the granite and flatcar.
Sweeney slid to the ground and lay still while Darcy staggered back. Caleb let out his breath.
A cheer went up from the crowd. Darcy turned and his face went white, his knees buckling as he fainted.
“Jas, throw some water on him and when he comes around, bring him back to me. He’s through shoveling ballast today,” Caleb ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks for getting me.”
Jas grinned. “I shoulda’ known an O’Brien wouldn’t need help.”
Caleb shook his head. “I didn’t know he could fight.” He raised his voice. “Everyone back to work. We can’t build a railroad this way. Any man who fights loses a day’s wages.”
He strode away, fighting the temptation to pick Darcy up and carry him to the supply wagon. Where did the kid learn to fight? he wondered. He must not have spent all his time with Amity and Chantal.