“Appears so, Ranger.”
How did he know Sam was a ranger? He wore no badge. “My apologies,” Sam mumbled.
The train engineer blew the whistle and the mighty iron wheels began to slowly turn.
Sam swung his attention back to the gunslinger. A few more words and he’d be able to place him, surely. “Would you have the time, Mr…?” Sam asked.
“Andrew. Andrew Evan.” The man flipped open his timepiece. “It’s 10:45.”
“Obliged.” Finally, a name. Not that it proved helpful. Sam was sure he’d left his real one at the Texas border, as men with something to hide tended to do. By working extra hard trying to make himself invisible, Evan had as much as declared that he had things to conceal.
Worse, the longer Sam sat near Andrew, the stronger the feeling of familiarity grew. And that was something Sam’s brain had not conjured up. He glanced out the window at the passing scenery, trying to make sense of the thoughts clunking around in his head. When he next looked over at Andrew Evan, Sam wasn’t surprised to find the slouching gunslinger’s head against the seat with his hat tilted over his eyes.
The hair on his neck rose. Sam felt Andrew’s eyes watching from beneath the brim of the black Stetson. Then he saw a muscle twitch in Andrew’s jaw, confirming that he wasn’t asleep.
Tension sparking between them electrified the air.
As Sam stared at Evan’s hands, searching for the tattoo, a woman rushed down the aisle. She came even with them just as the train took a curve, and tumbled headlong into his lap. He found himself holding soft, warm curves encased in dark wool.
Stark fear darkened the blue eyes staring up at him, and her bottom lip quivered.
A jolt went through him. Lucinda? But no—it couldn’t be her. But this girl had Lucinda Howard’s same black hair and blue eyes framed by thick, sooty lashes.
His body responded against his will as he struggled with the memory. Hell! At last, he realized this girl was not the faithless lover he’d once known.
But she was the woman he’d collided with on his way to the ranger headquarters.
“Are you all right, miss?”
“I…I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
He felt her icy hand splayed against his chest through the fabric of his shirt, where it landed in breaking her fall.
“Are you in trouble? I can help.”
“They’re…I’ve got to—” Mystery woman pushed away, extricating herself from his lap. Then with a strangled sob, she ran toward the door leading to the next car.
Sam looked down. Prickles rose on the back of his neck.
A bloody handprint stained his shirt.
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No One But You Page 34