Under a Falling Star

by Caroline Fyffe

  “Albert, I can—”

  “Nope!” He held up his finger. “I’m doing this all on my own. Now close your eyes and rest.”

  She did. And it felt good. The sounds of him clanging and banging around the kitchen brought a tiny smile to her lips. Even after two years of knowing Albert, she’d never seen him cook. Time passed and she sensed herself drifting in and out of sleep.

  “All right,” he said softly, close to her face. “You can open your eyes.”

  His voice was low, and the sincerity of his tone felt like a caress. An enticing aroma wafted up into her nose.

  She opened her eyes. A plate of roast beef, a scoop of beans in sweet sauce, a slice of bread with butter, and a large pickle.

  He gave her a sad look. “It was the best I could do on such short notice. And it’s barely warm, but I figured it’d do. You must be famished.”

  She lifted her fork. “This will be delicious. I know, I made the beans myself yesterday.” It didn’t matter what was on her plate—she was hungry. The fact that Albert sat across from her, taking care of her, was more than she deserved.

  He sat back, letting her eat for several minutes.

  “There’s something important I’ve been meaning to speak to you about for a long time, Susanna,” he said, “but the time never seems right.”

  Susanna chewed quickly, then swallowed. She’d just contemplated telling him her own feelings, but now an overwhelming fright squeezed her throat so hard it hurt. She didn’t want to lose him. She loved him too much. Don’t go there, don’t go there.

  His smile wobbled. “Today’s train wreck has me thinking. We don’t know how long we have and—”

  She gripped her forehead in her palm, ashamed for the small falsehood she was about to say. “Albert, the stress of today has my head pounding something fierce. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  He looked taken aback. His eyes roamed her face, and something passed briefly in their depths, as if maybe he didn’t believe her. “Can we? You never mentioned that your head hurt.”

  She cut a few more pieces of meat into smaller portions as she nodded. “Yes, of course, tomorrow. I never mentioned the headache because I didn’t want you to fret.” She smiled and held up a bite of the meat on her fork, trying to distract him. “This is good, Albert, thank you for taking the time out of your evening. You must be incredibly busy with everyone pulling you every which way.”

  “Never too busy for you, Susanna.” Again, the look. He seemed undecided about something.

  Once they know they gotcha, honey, they move on. You remember my words or you’ll end up like me, like me, like me . . .

  The same week her mother had passed away, one of her mother’s male friends had come calling on her doorstep, expecting Susanna to take up where her mother had left off. She’d kept her wits about her long enough to send him packing and then stuffed the few items she owned into one little bag. Digging up the wages she’d saved from her earnings at the laundry house, she’d bought a ticket for the stage and never looked back. When she’d gone as far as her money would take her, she hired on someplace until she had more funds to keep going. She wasn’t proud. She’d cleaned rooms, cooked for an army unit, even served whiskey in a couple of saloons. She kept moving, propelled by an emotion that demanded she put as much time and distance between her and the town she called home as possible. And now Dalton could spoil everything.

  Albert made a sound in his throat. “I guess you’re even more tired than I first thought. You keep slipping away to somewhere else. If there’s something on your mind, tell me.”

  She brought her gaze to his, still lost in memories of arriving in Logan Meadows. She’d walked into a busy restaurant to find Hannah struggling to cook and serve at the same time. When Susanna offered to help, Hannah had almost swooned with happiness. They’d worked together ever since.

  The clock chimed ten. She blinked the past away. A perplexed expression had replaced Albert’s sideways smile.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  His eyes wandered her face, assessing. “I guess you’ll tell me when you’re good and ready, and not a moment before.” He looked at her empty plate and stood.

  Still agitated, she pushed back her chair and followed. “I’m sorry, Albert. Right now all I can think about are all those injured people. I have to get back. Dr. Thorn probably thinks I’ve forgotten and fallen asleep.”

  “I doubt that.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

  How did one navigate such dangerous waters? Every time she thought it safe to speak her feelings, something surged up inside bringing back all the painful memories of her childhood. Albert knew she liked him; heck, he probably knew she loved him! Why did they have to spell it out to each other? Once that was done there wasn’t anywhere to go from there but down. She wouldn’t survive if his love cooled as the days went on, finally to die completely. That was a moment she never wanted to experience.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Five o’clock in the morning was much too early to be drenched in sweat. Dalton hefted the steel pry bar and rammed it down into the one-inch air vent on the top of the converted boxcar. His arms ached. Sweat ran down the side of his face and dripped from his forehead into his eyes, the salt stinging even as he blinked it away. Wedging a block of wood under his tool, he leaned over with all his strength, leveraging the roof up a tiny bit more. The collision had fractured the iron that ran the length of the roof, but at this rate, it would take the whole day to extricate Evan and the payload below.

  “I’m ready to give it a go,” Gabe Garrison said. Dalton and the young cowhand had been changing out at five-minute intervals. Still the access area had barely grown. Accomplishing their task would be no easy feat.

  “One more minute, Gabe,” he said, feeling the responsibility on his shoulders. It was demanding, backbreaking work. He lifted until his hands were over his head, then slammed down the steel bar, aiming for the hole. If you weren’t careful, you’d miss the target entirely, which Gabe had once, sending the treacherous widow maker flying to the ground when it slipped from his hands. The plan was to enlarge the small ripped area by pulling back the thinner layer of iron that covered the top of the car until the hole was large enough to get a small man or boy inside to unlock the door from within. That was the only way.

  Dalton glanced up at the morning sun shining in the cloudless sky.

  “How’s it going?” Albert called up.

  As the sheriff had promised, Thom Donovan had shown up at midnight, relieving Charlie, and Albert had returned an hour after that, allowing Chase to go home.

  Dalton stripped off his shirt and wiped it over his body. “Slow. Haven’t made much progress.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Albert replied. The sheriff started up the ladder, a ray of sun glinting off the man’s five-pointed star. He came close, walking carefully on the roof, and examined the small opening.

  Dalton rested the tip of the pry bar on the roof and sucked in several deep breaths. The men of Logan Meadows were a fine lot. Especially the sheriff. Dalton hadn’t expected him to pitch in and help with the extrication, but that was exactly what he’d done since he’d arrived with a wagonload of tools he’d borrowed from his brother’s livery.

  Albert knelt, then lowered himself onto his belly, one hand placed on either side of the small opening. He gazed into the dark chamber. “Hello? Evan Stone, can you hear me? Knock on something if you can’t speak.” He turned his head and pressed his ear firmly to the roof. After a moment, he climbed to his feet next to Gabe. “I think we could work away at this forever and not get in. I have an idea that will have this done in the blink of an eye.”

  “We’ve already decided against dynamite,” Dalton said. “We can’t risk it.”

  Albert lifted his hat and swished it several times in front of his face. Dalton had already learned that you couldn’t rush the sheriff when he was about to say something important.
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br />   “We did decide that,” Albert finally said. “But that was when we were talking about blowing the door. I say we blow this hole. It’s above Evan, so the concussion will go up and away from the cash boxes. If your friend is alive, getting him out before much longer should be the main concern. The explosion can’t cause him more harm than to leave him in there for days on end. Besides, most likely he was pitched to the front of the car when the train jerked to a sudden stop. I’ll bet he’s up against the wall, which is the best place for him now.”

  Dalton thought that over. He had a point.

  At the sound of wagon wheels on gravel, all three men looked around. Dalton shouldered his way back into his shirt when he noticed a woman at the reins. Thom Donovan, still sitting his horse and guarding the car, waved, a large smile splitting his face.

  “Must be your deputy’s wife,” Dalton said.

  “That’s right. Hannah Donovan.”

  Dalton watched the buggy approach. “A good woman would make everything easier to bear. You married, Sheriff?”

  A strange expression crossed Albert’s face. Maybe he’d overstepped.

  “Me?” Albert grasped the back of his neck and worked his muscles. Seemed he was avoiding Dalton’s gaze. “Have you seen a wife around that I don’t know about?” His forced chuckle was strained. “I do have a girl that sets the moon and stars.”

  “Moon and stars?” Dalton said with a lilt of humor. “Talking pretty colorful for so early in the morning, aren’t you?”

  Albert shrugged. “Laugh all you want, but it’s true. You’ll see what I mean when it happens to you.”

  “A man can’t ask for more than that, I guess.”

  Mrs. Donovan pulled the buggy to a halt. Thom rode forward and the sounds of their soft conversation floated up to where the men watched. She laughed at something Thom said, then turned and waved. She climbed out.

  “Good morning, Albert, Gabe,” she called. She momentarily glanced at her husband again, before going on. “And you must be Mr. Babcock.” When he nodded, she continued, “Doctor Thorn said you were a big help yesterday. Are you making any progress with the train?” She gathered some things from the back of the buggy and made her way toward the money car, a tray with cups and a covered basket in her hands. Dalton hoped she’d brought some food.

  “I have hot coffee and biscuits. No man I’ve ever known likes to go to work without something hot in his belly. Come down and take a short break. Refuel your energy.”

  Gabe was the first to hit the ladder. “Coffee? Biscuits? That’s awfully kind of you, Mrs. Donovan.”

  “Don’t mind if we do,” Albert called down. “Thank you kindly, Hannah.”

  Dalton waited until Gabe’s feet hit the ground before starting down himself, the thought of coffee more appealing than his mama’s sour-apple pie.

  Seeing Hannah Donovan reminded Dalton of Susanna. God’s truth, he’d hardly thought of anything else through the long dark night. Her face and sassy words kept popping into his head at the oddest times. Actually, he owed her a glass of lemonade for keeping him so alert when fatigue would have had his eyes drooping. Once they had the money safely in the bank, he’d look her up again. He certainly wanted to know why she’d settled in Logan Meadows. She hadn’t been wearing a wedding band, another fact that had played at the corners of his mind. But, that would have to wait until his other responsibilities with Evan and the cargo were resolved and he’d found Pat. Hopefully both guards were still alive and just needed doctoring.

  Once on the ground and flanked by Albert, Dalton waited as Mrs. Donovan filled a white porcelain cup with fragrant, dark liquid. She handed it to Gabe, who already gripped a handful of biscuits. She glanced at Dalton. “Don’t be shy, Mr. Babcock. Get some biscuits before they’re gone.”

  Gabe’s face turned three shades of red, but he kept on chewing at the rate of a racehorse. “I got out here early, Mrs. Donovan, before I had a chance to eat.”

  She smiled and nodded. “That’s precisely why I’m here.”

  Dalton dipped his chin. “Thank you, ma’am. And we do appreciate it very much.”

  Reaching into the overfilled biscuit basket, Dalton realized he’d taken a shine to these townsfolk. He felt right at home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  New light brought new hope. Susanna walked slowly down her aisle of patients, being careful not to let her heels touch the floor. The best medicine now, for most of them, was deep, uninterrupted sleep. At the end of the row, she looked out the front window. People milled around the back door of the El Dorado Hotel looking lost and still a little in shock, probably trying to make sense of the accident that had disrupted their lives, killed their loved ones, or placed them in the doctor’s care.

  Thoughts of Albert filtered into her mind. Things would work out, she told herself for the hundredth time since seeing him yesterday. He cared for her, and would probably do more if she’d get past this stupid fear of rejection. He’d been trying to express his feelings again last night until she changed the subject on him. The considerate things he did daily showed her how much he cared. He wasn’t like the men her mother knew. He was honest and good. She was tired of her insecurities. She would put her trust in him, let him court her, and then be the next bride in Logan Meadows.

  A thrill of excitement zipped through her and she couldn’t stop her imagination from galloping off as she daydreamed about what it would be like to sleep in Albert’s arms. The next time they were alone, she’d tell him so, she promised herself, still gazing on the scene out the window. After all the times she’d avoided the subject, he’d think she’d lost her mind. Still, he was going to be so happy. Perhaps she’d be married by this time next week.

  What about Dalton? He knows the truth about Mother. If he says anything, will Albert still look at me the same?

  She glanced at the clock. Almost six. Her gritty eyes burned. Her pillow was going to feel so nice when she finally made it back to her house and crawled into bed. She expected Brenna any moment. Mrs. Hollyhock was already in the kitchen preparing a large pot of mush for the patients’ breakfast.

  A long, shuddering moan brought Susanna around. She rushed to Julia’s side just as the girl leaned over the side of her cot to vomit into the bucket Susanna had set there for that exact purpose. Twice during the night, she’d done the same, then sunk back into her misery.

  Susanna crouched by the side of Julia’s bed as the girl began to lay back, her uninjured arm cradling her fractured limb, now protected in a cast. “Let me help you,” Susanna crooned. With strong arms, she lowered the ginger-haired beauty back until her head once again rested on her pillow.

  Julia tried to smile.

  “What can I get you?” Susanna asked.

  “There’s nothing,” she whispered. “I just need to get through this the best that I can. I’m sorry for the mess.”

  “Nonsense. I’m sorry I made you drink all that horrible liquor last night. It was enough to set a horse on his backside. Your head must ache terribly.”

  The girl gave a small nod.

  “I have a bit of good news. The doctor was just here. He’s coming back with some laudanum. It’ll help you sleep until the worst has passed.” She didn’t tell Julia that the doctor had a surplus of the medication because two of his surgery patients had passed away during the night. The girl had enough to think about without that gruesome news.

  Julia smiled. “I’m glad. My arm does hurt something fierce.” She glanced away for a moment, then back at Susanna. Her eyes pooled with tears. “I really want to speak with my aunt Biddy. Can you please send word for her to come? I thought by now she would’ve found me. It’s not like her to make me worry.”

  I can’t lie to her any longer. Now that her arm is set, she needs to know the truth. “Julia, I’m sorry.”

  As if the girl knew what she was about to say, her head began to rock back and forth in denial and a low keening vibrated in her throat. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be true. Please tell m
e it’s not true.”

  Susanna gently stroked Julia’s clammy forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

  Several minutes passed with tears Julia’s only movement. Susanna pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the outside corners of the girl’s eyes.

  “How?”

  Susanna breathed in. “I’m not sure. She’d already passed when they found her. She must have hit her head. I wish I wasn’t the one to have to tell you.”

  Julia blinked away more tears. “I guess I probably knew the truth all along, but didn’t want to accept it. Poor Aunt Biddy. She was such a gentle soul.”

  Susanna just listened; a voice inside said that was what the girl needed now more than anything.

  “She wasn’t my real aunt, you know. She was kind enough to take me in when my mother died when I was only five. They were friends.”

  “That was a very caring thing for her to do. Where were you traveling to?”

  “San Francisco. To Aunt Biddy’s sister. I’ve never met the woman, but I could tell by her letters that she didn’t really want us to come and live. But we had nowhere else to go. Aunt Biddy’s employer died and the new owner laid off a handful of employees. I don’t know what I’ll do now. Where I’ll go.”

  The sounds of the town coming to life filtered into the room. Mrs. Hollyhock shuffled through the kitchen door carrying a tray filled with bowls. Susanna needed to help her. Brenna came through the front door, and the doctor appeared as well.

  “You need to go?” Julia whispered.

  Susanna propped some pillows behind her back so she’d be able to eat. “Yes, I do. You’re not to worry about your future; you’re to concentrate on healing that arm.” She smiled. “Things will work out, you’ll see.”

  “You’ll come back, won’t you, Susanna?”

  She nodded. “Of course. After breakfast, I’m going to run some errands, do a few things for the doctor, and rest for an hour or two. But I’ll be back. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”