“Was it as terrible as they say?”
Worse. Nothing anybody ever said or wrote could come close to the terrible reality of it. Even now, though he’d lived through it—existed through it—he could scarcely grasp the horror. Perhaps the human mind rejected it, the way a stomach revolted against rotten food, because no one could truly know that and remain sane and whole.
Laura edged closer on the blanket and gently laid her hand over his.
“I didn’t intend to play on your sympathy,” he said. “Though I do appreciate the side benefits.”
“What, then?” Laura knew she shouldn’t touch him. But his flesh beneath hers, living texture, the hard bump of strong knuckles, the sinewy strength of a man who’d survived, was comforting and compelling and really, what did it hurt?
“I had a—” What to call him? Sam wondered. “Friend there.” Friend. That was a pale approximation of what Griff Judah had been to him. Compatriot, brother, lifeline. Even a replacement for the family he’d just lost. “He kept me alive, all those months. I would have given up without him.”
How many times had Griff talked him back from the edge? Had told him that he couldn’t die because then Griff would be alone? “He got a job on the Silver Spur.”
“I see.” Her hand remained, a precious connection to the present, keeping the past from swamping him.
“I never heard from him again.” When he looked at her in the moonlight, all pretty and young and clean beside him, a part of him wavered. Wondered if maybe he shouldn’t give it up and simply get on with his life. Not with her, of course. But someone like Laura would be if she hadn’t been born rich.
For if Haw Crocker was trying that hard to hide something from him on the Silver Spur, Griff was likely long past Sam’s help anyway. Would just knowing what had happened to Griff be worth all Sam risked, all he’d done?
But no. No. He owed Griff, and himself, this much. He’d never be able to live with anything less. And if there was even the slightest chance Griff survived, he had to do this.
“Maybe,” she ventured, “he…perhaps he did not want to get in touch with you again.”
She’d said it so cautiously, as if afraid to make the suggestion, he couldn’t help but smile. “Not too surprising to you, hmm, that somebody’d want to cut me out of his life?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean—” And then she caught his expression, and her own discomfort eased. “Not surprising at all,” she teased.
“I came here looking for him. No one knew anything, or so they said. They swore he never showed up here at all.”
“Maybe he never did.” Laura wondered if he even realized she touched him, so lost was he in his thoughts and the story he told her. Thinking of his friend, no doubt, a friend who was obviously more than a simple friend. Someone you’d survived that much with…clearly there was a bond there that others could not always understand. The fact that he could care that much for someone, remain so loyal to someone for what had to be a good twenty years, made him all the more appealing.
“I considered that,” he said. He turned his head, gaze sweeping the shadowed land. “I asked around in town. They all swore they’d never seen him. But, I had to give it one last try before I gave up, and so I sneaked back onto Silver Spur land.”
He fell silent, his jaw working, eyes narrowed as if there were something fascinating out there. Looking into memories, she thought, memories she waited patiently for him to share. Because he was sharing them, giving them to her—perhaps not freely, perhaps with ulterior motive, but far more than he’d revealed to her before.
“They were waiting for me,” he said at last.
“Waiting—oh.” She swallowed. “The injuries, when we first met…”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “They said it was because I was trespassing. I wondered, for a while, why they didn’t just kill me. I suppose my death would have caused more questions than they wanted to answer. For all they knew I’d told someone about my suspicions.”
Anger exploded in Laura. If so much damage had been visible, there had to have been even more that she hadn’t seen. She was furious at them for having done that to him. And if that’s how she felt, she could begin to guess what it meant to him that Griff might have been hurt, too.
He turned toward her. His hand rotated in hers, face up, his fingers weaving with hers, though he seemed unaware of what he was doing. And that made it all the more stirring that he would hold her hand for support, thoughtlessly, instinctually.
“You know what that means,” he said.
“That they had something to hide?”
He nodded. “I needed a way back in. All the way in. I read the article about you in the paper, and I figured you were my best chance. They’d never expect me to come as part of your party. I’d be just another one of your guards. They’d probably never even look at me all that closely.”
It was an awfully big risk for him to dismiss as if it were nothing. “What if someone recognized you?”
He shrugged, tossing off his personal safety. “I wouldn’t be any worse off than I was already, would I? I shaved off my beard and chopped my hair. It was worth a shot.”
And if someone recognized him, this time they really might kill him.
If they had something to hide, she reminded herself. Haw Crocker and her father had done a lot of business together, and her father often spoke well of him and his acumen. She couldn’t believe her father would be that wrong about someone.
But the Silver Spur was a massive operation. Likely Mr. Crocker didn’t even personally know half of the people who worked for him, much less keep close tabs on them.
And if there was nothing to find, there was nothing to find. Either way, at least Sam would be able to get on with his life knowing he had done all he could.
“Was it really necessary to…lie to me?” It was a soft pain now, gentler than the bright stab of anger she’d first felt when Mrs. Bossidy had told her the truth.
She remembered the time they’d spent together. The way he’d looked at her, listened to her, and she couldn’t sort out the truth from the lies. Had it all been a lie? She was afraid that it was. Clearly he wouldn’t let a few minor points like truth and her emotions get in the way of what he considered necessary and expedient.
She’d known he was capable of that from the first. She’d just chosen to ignore it.
“Crocker and your father have done business together. For all I knew, he’s your father’s friend, too. You didn’t know me,” he said, his voice softening. “More importantly, I didn’t know you.”
But she couldn’t let her own wounded pride interfere and dig in her heels for spite. This mattered to him, and she could help.
“All right then.” She lifted her free hand and brushed back the loose swath of his hair, exposing the strong, clean bones. A beard? He could have been covered in turf from head to toe and painted white, and she was sure she would know him.
But the men on the Silver Spur weren’t artists, she reminded herself. And likely hadn’t spent nearly as much time studying his face as she had.
“I’m going to need some things from the car—”
Surprise lightened his eyes. “You’re going to help me?”
“Of course.”
“Just like that?”
“Of course,” she said. “Now then—”
“Wait.” He captured her hand, drew it together with the one that was still entwined with hers. “It wasn’t all lies, you know. Not when I talked to you. Not when I kissed you.”
Hope lifted inside her, a heady, effervescent lightness that felt dangerously good.
“I did that because—” He paused, searching for the right words, settling on the simplest. “Because I wanted to. But I shouldn’t’ve,” he said. “You’re too young. Too—”
“I thought we covered that already,” she snapped.
“I know.” Offending her pride wouldn’t help. “How about too inexperienced? Is that better?”
Better, n
o. But true.
“I took advantage of your curiosity and your newfound freedom,” he went on. “I knew that you would be likely to read more into our friendship than was there, and yet I—”
“Well, now, don’t you think highly of your charms?” she said lightly, while her heart pounded so hard she was afraid he would notice the evidence of her lie. “I was curious. No more, no less. Don’t make too much of it,” she advised him, determined to follow her own counsel.
He studied her thoughtfully, as if trying to find the truth behind her words. She forced a smile and returned his gaze as steadily as she could, making herself open, light.
Finally, he nodded. “I just wanted to make certain you understood that taking advantage of your natural warmth was not part of my plan. It was anything but part of my plan.”
She was not part of his plan, Sam thought. Oh, Laura Hamilton, painter, rich man’s daughter, had certainly been central to his strategy. But this woman in front of him, who stirred him and challenged him and haunted his sleep, was not.
Though it likely would have been better for both their sakes to let her believe that he’d kissed her for no other reason than to blunt her defenses, deflect suspicion, and ensure that she would bring him along to the Silver Spur. Laura, furious and wary, would guarantee that nothing improper ever happened between them again.
But he knew he was the first man to kiss her—a thought that, surprisingly, he found wildly exciting. He’d never cared much one way or another about a woman’s past, her experience or lack thereof. What business was it of his? He supposed there was some elemental drive involved, the need of a man to stake his claim, an instinct that kicked in whether it made any real sense or not. Because the things he felt when he looked at her certainly didn’t make any sense.
“Speaking of plans…” She inspected his face, direct, impersonal, the same way she’d study a tree before she began to sketch. He should be grateful she was so reasonable about it all, not allowing emotion or hurt or residual attraction to get in the way of what needed to be done.
Except he wanted nothing more than to lean forward, kiss that detachment away, and make it all decidedly personal.
“I still need some things from the train.”
“You won’t be in any danger,” he promised. “Even if they tumble to me, there’s no reason to suspect anything of you. And if your father’s reputation is not protection enough, I’ll get you out of there the instant there seems to be any threat to you.” He said it earnestly, with the weight of a solemn vow.
She wanted, too much, to hear vows from him, and so she retreated to safer topics. “Lots of things from the train,” she warned him.
“I know you’re used to having your things,” he said, “but it’ll only be a few days.”
“No.” She gripped his chin—warm, gentle fingers; soft touch, firm hold—and turned his head from side to side through the fall of moonlight, studying the angles. “You’re hoping they don’t find you out. I, on the other hand, have every intention of ensuring it.”
“You do, do you?” he asked, amused.
“So there are several things—all right, many things—that I require from the car. We’re going to be explaining why we’re without entourage as it is. He’s going to expect me to have a full complement of luggage.”
“All right.” He stood and drew her up in one quick motion. She felt the lift of it, the lurch of her stomach, as if she weighed nothing, and he would pull her right off her feet. Then he released her, and she couldn’t help but be sorry for it. It had been so pleasant simply to hold his hand, as if that’s what hands had been designed for in the first place, the comfort of another human’s touch.
“This way,” he said, heading off in…whatever direction he was heading off in; nothing around gave her a clue. But away from the horse that snuffled contently and patiently to her left.
“But—”
“To the train,” he said cheerfully, striding off so quickly she had to hurry to catch up, for she had little faith in her ability to track him through the darkened, unfamiliar landscape. “It’s barely two hundred yards.”
“Two hundred yards?”
“Yep. Didn’t think I’d stolen you off into the wilds, did you?”
He was true to his word. With only a few more steps she could see the low, blocky outline of the rail cars. And she wondered why being stolen off into the wilds by him didn’t sound outrageous at all.
Chapter 12
The shriek yanked him from sleep, a banshee yell that ripped Hiram from a lovely dream—Christmas at home, and Ma’s apple pie, a whole one just for him—his heart knocking in panic before he even realized he was awake.
Indians, he thought. Has to be, nothing else makes that sound. They’d told him a dozen times there was no danger out there, but what the hell did they know?
He groped for his pants, his thoughts a useless jumble, though part of him decided that, if he was going to get scalped, he wasn’t going to do it naked. A shirt, and then his brain cleared enough to recognize it didn’t matter.
Okay, gun. That was the only thing worth looking for.
He kept it close and loaded, on the tiny table that folded down from the wall. He cautiously pried aside the roller shade that covered his small window, squinting at the brilliant early-morning sunlight. Nothing.
He tiptoed out of his cabin and through the main part of the car, past the boxes and crates and trunks that jammed the space to within six inches of the ceiling. Not a bad place to hole up, he thought; there’s no way an arrow is getting through all of that. Now if he could just get the ladies squirreled away before the war party arrived.
There was no sign of Erastus. Had they shot him already, then? Though, knowing Erastus, he could still be asleep.
Another shriek. An obviously female one this time, a blast of sound that curdled his blood.
No time to wait for Erastus. He braced himself in front of the door, took two deep breaths to steady himself, his gun at the ready, and kicked.
The door flew open, the jamb splintering.
Mrs. Bossidy stood there, openmouthed, eyes wide with terror. His gun pointed straight at her admittedly lovely, though he’d tried not to notice, bosom.
She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He eased through the opening, scanning side to side for any signs of danger. Still nothing. Either someone had a weapon aimed at her from some hidden vantage point, or—
“For God’s sake,” she shouted, “don’t point that thing at me!”
He moved the barrel a fraction, keeping it shoulder high but aimed a foot to her left. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, still unable to detect any signs of trouble.
She flapped a piece of paper she held clutched in her hand. Her mouth worked, open, shut, and he wondered if she thought there were words coming out or if she was too terrified to form them.
“Ma’am?”
She shoved the paper at him. He grabbed her instead, yanking her into the shelter of the train, safely behind him, then backed inside himself.
Nothing happened. Whoever, whatever, had spooked Mrs. Bossidy was long gone or uninterested in shooting…yet.
“What’s out there?”
“Nothing,” she gasped.
Then why was she screaming like somebody was peeling off her fingernails one by one?
“There’s gotta be something wrong. You haven’t insulted me once.” He couldn’t imagine what might have shaken her customary self-possession. It had to be something truly terrible.
She waved the paper, a flutter of white in the dim light leaking around the stacks of boxes that blocked most of the windows.
“Read it,” she croaked out, “if you can.”
“That’s my girl.”
My Dear Mrs. Bossidy,
I am truly sorry that you had to awaken to this. I would have chosen another way had I been able to see one, but pausing to wake you and explain in person would have been a delay we can ill afford. Also, I doubt you would have understo
od, though I shall try my best to explain it someday, and perhaps you will forgive me.
Please understand that I have not been abducted, nor am I in danger of any kind. You know me well enough to know that, were I writing this under coercion, I would find some way to encode a warning in this letter. I am perfectly safe and have every expectation of remaining that way.
I simply have some business to attend to. I will tell you that I am with Mr. Duncan. I know that you do not trust him, but I have information that you’re not privy to. I tell you this not to worry you further but to perhaps allay those fears, for while you may have questions about his character personally, you can have no doubt about his abilities to protect me.
It won’t take us long. I am sorry that we had to take the horses, but I cannot have you attempting to follow us. Interference may well turn something that should be safe and simple into something else entirely. So please, enjoy your brief respite from duty. There are plenty of supplies and water. I’m sorry that we had to take the horses. I believe the next train is due in two more days.
There is absolutely no reason to trouble my parents with this event. It will only worry them, for by the time my father is able to take any action it will most assuredly be all over, and I will be back with you, safe and sound. Cabling him will only mean that I will be locked in a nunnery for the rest of my life, and the three of you will be without jobs.
I will meet you in Ogden in five days. That should be plenty of time. I suppose it is asking too much to ask you not to fret overly, but you have worried over me since I was eleven, and it is long past time you took a few days to yourself.
I must be off.
All my love,
Laura
P.S. I truly, truly am not eloping, so don’t worry about that. I promise. It really is merely a personal concern of Mr. Duncan’s, and I am happy to be of assistance.
“Crap,” Hiram said.
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