A Broken Wing (Kansas Crossroads)

by Amelia C. Adams

  His words nearly took the breath from her. “They were planning to step in and protect me?”

  “That’s right. There were two men, a taller one and a shorter one, and they were preparing to tackle Bob and bring him to the floor.”

  “But they would have been killed.”

  Raymond shrugged. “I don’t think that mattered to them.”

  Trinity sat back and shook her head, overwhelmed. “I hardly know what to say. I wish I could thank them—do you know where they went?”

  “I haven’t seen them since we got off the train.”

  She closed her eyes as tears welled up in them. “Thank you for telling me,” she whispered.

  Raymond took her hand again, weaving his fingers through hers. “If there was some way to wipe all the evil from the world, to create a place where women and children could live without fear, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I don’t have that power.”

  “Mr. Jensen . . . he was shot defending me. I can’t help but feel responsible for his pain and suffering. If he had remained quiet . . .”

  “If he’d stayed quiet, his conscience would have eaten him alive, and that would have caused him pain as well. I’m afraid, Miss Scott, that you must allow others to stand up for you and to stop feeling guilty for it. Take it as a sign of their respect for you, and of their inner commitment to integrity and honor.”

  She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. “

  “You’re quite a nurse, Trinity. I know you doubted your ability, but I couldn’t have had a better helper. You did everything I said, you did it well, and you kept your wits about you. I wish I’d known how upset you were—I should have asked someone else, but I didn’t want anyone else but you.”

  “You didn’t?” She met his eyes, warm and brown. She could get lost in those eyes.

  “No. I knew I could count on you.”

  She chuckled and turned away before she got too swept up in the moment. “So now we’ve gone from endlessly pestering me with questions to flattery.”

  “No, not flattery. Honest appraisal. You listed curiosity as one of your prevailing traits—bluntness is one of mine.”

  “I mentioned that I was curious. You’re the one who said it was outstanding.”

  “So I did.” He gave her fingers a little squeeze and then let go. “Should we continue our walk?”

  She didn’t want to move from this spot, to break this moment, but it had already fled. “I’d like to head back to the hotel, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  Neither of them said much on the way. Something had shifted between them, and Trinity didn’t know what it was or what had caused it. She shouldn’t have told him how much the incident on the train had bothered her. People just didn’t talk about those things. He’d never see her the same way now—no wonder his demeanor had changed.

  When they walked into the lobby, they saw a tall man in a white suit standing in the little parlor off to the side. He came forward and held out his hand. “Dr. Foster, Miss Scott?”

  “Yes,” Raymond replied.

  “I’m Colonel Gordon, marshal here in Topeka. May I have a word with both of you?”

  “Of course.” Raymond led Trinity over to the sofa, then took a seat in the chair under the window. The marshal sat as well, but didn’t scoot back, choosing instead to sit on the edge.

  “I’ve spoken at length with Wallace Dupree, who told me what happened on the train this morning. I’d like to ask you some questions as well. Before we head into that, however, I want to assure you that my department sent out men as soon as we learned of the robbery, and they’re looking for the guilty parties as we speak.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Gordon,” Trinity said. “We appreciate your quick action.”

  “That’s how it has to be in these train robbery cases,” the colonel replied. “Quite often, once they’ve gotten all they can out of a train, they’ll disappear for months, then reappear halfway across the country. Makes it deuced hard to catch them. Now, Dr. Foster. You’re traveling to Denver. Is this correct?”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “And the nature of your business there?”

  “An operation.” Raymond nodded toward his sling. “There’s a doctor in Denver who specializes in repairing ligaments, and I hope he can restore my hand to full function.”

  “Can you tell me what took place on the train?”

  Raymond launched into his narrative, speaking in short, logical sentences. Trinity’s mind had gone into a whirl. How could she possibly explain what had happened? She needed sleep, but she couldn’t sleep, and her fatigue was taking a horrible toll on her. That, plus the embarrassment of her conversation with Raymond just now . . .

  Mrs. Brody entered the parlor a moment later carrying a tray. “Pardon the interruption. I thought you could use some refreshments.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brody. You are unerringly kind.” Colonel Gordon leaned forward and took one of the cups of coffee on the tray, then resumed his questioning after taking a sip.

  Trinity watched Mrs. Brody’s retreating back, wishing she could leave the room as well. Then she felt a cup being pressed into her hands. Raymond’s eyes were concerned, and she nodded her thanks.

  “Now, Miss Scott. Your destination?”

  She sipped at her drink, not noticing its temperature until her tongue began to burn. “There’s a small town in western Colorado called Pastorville. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.”

  Colonel Gordon shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. Your purpose for going there?”

  Trinity looked down at her cup, then over at Raymond, then back at the colonel. “To get married.”

  “Married, you say. The name of the groom?”

  Raymond had become as still as a stone.

  “Thomas Wells.”

  “Would you please recount your experiences of this morning?”

  Trinity’s hands began to shake, and she nearly dropped her cup. Raymond reached out, took it from her, and gave her a small sandwich instead.

  “She’s experienced quite a number of shocks today,” he said to the colonel by way of explanation. “Let’s give her a moment.”

  Why was he being so kind to her, after all she’d withheld from him? She nibbled on the edge of her sandwich, then took larger bites, wondering how she could be so hungry after their large meal not two hours before.

  “Thank you. I’m much better now,” she said after swallowing the last bite and wiping her mouth. “Everything Dr. Foster said is correct, and I don’t have anything to add.”

  Colonel Gordon furrowed his brow. “I appreciate your stamp of approval on his testimony, but I do need to hear the story from you as well, Miss Scott.”

  Trinity cleared her throat. “All right. Let’s see. Mr. Dupree had just welcomed us onto the train when three men . . .”

  She spoke for what seemed like hours, but was probably only fifteen minutes. At one point, Raymond urged her to take a few more sips of her drink, which she did, and then carried on. She wondered for a moment if she should skip over Bob’s comments and behavior, but then she drew a breath and plowed through. If knowing the whole story would help the marshal bring these men to justice, the whole story was what she would tell.

  When she drew to an end, the colonel nodded. “Thank you, Miss Scott. I know that wasn’t easy, and I appreciate your candor. We will continue to search for these men with all diligence, and I hope you’ll be willing to identify them once we’ve caught them.”

  “But we can’t stay in Topeka forever, sir,” Raymond said. “I must be on my way if I expect to have this surgery. And Miss Scott . . . has a wedding to prepare for.”

  “Understood,” the colonel replied. “If the robbers aren’t apprehended in two days’ time, we’ll send you on your way, but ask that you leave us a forwarding address.”

  “That sounds fair.” Raymond bobbed his head. “Thank you.”

  The colonel put on his hat,
touched the brim of it, and said his good-byes, then scooped up two sandwiches and a piece of cake almost as an afterthought. Then he was gone, and Trinity sat back with her eyes closed.

  The room was absolutely still for several minutes until Raymond spoke. “I suppose that was the other thing you wanted to tell me.”

  “Yes. It just never seemed like the right time.”

  “I don’t understand. If you’re in love with this man, if you’re excited to marry him, why would there need to be a right time? It seems to me that you’d be bursting to tell anyone who would listen, and after all that time we spent talking, it never came up. Not even once. In fact, you seemed to avoid all conversation about yourself. It’s none of my business, and I know that, but it seems odd to me.” Raymond stood by the fireplace and rested his arm on the mantel, not looking at her. This gave her more courage.

  “Maybe I’m not in love with him. Maybe I’m not excited to marry him.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  Trinity didn’t answer right away. Instead, she refilled her coffee and added some cream and sugar, although black was probably what she needed. “My mother passed away a year ago,” she said at length. “We had been living on her inheritance, quite grandly, and when she died, my father speculated the lot of it on some scheme and lost it. He was able to recover enough to retain the house and his business by getting a loan from a friend of his, a man named Thomas Wells. You might say that in a manner of speaking, I was the down payment.”

  Raymond turned and looked at her. “I don’t understand.”

  Trinity took a sip and then returned her cup to the table. “Daughters are valuable assets in business deals, I’m sorry to say. Mr. Wells took a liking to me last year when he was out visiting, and when my father approached him for this loan, well, my name was mentioned.”

  “And you don’t have a choice?”

  Trinity raised a shoulder. “Oh, I was given a choice. I’m either to marry Mr. Wells or be cast off. I don’t have anywhere else to go, Raymond. I have no marketable skills—I was raised on literature and needlework, not mathematics or anything that might get me ahead in life. I have no other family. This is the best alternative I have.”

  Raymond shook his head and turned back to the fireplace. “And what of this Mr. Wells? Is he a kind man? Will he treat you well?”

  “I don’t know much about him, actually. He’s a gentleman, certainly, and seems respectable. He’s a year or two younger than my father—”

  Raymond whirled around at this. “What? He’s your father’s age?”

  “Roughly.”

  Raymond fisted his right hand at his side. “I don’t understand. What father could use his daughter as a pawn in such a way? What man would request a bride based on the terms of a financial loan? Who are these men to treat you in such a way? Have you never been shown respect or compassion, Trinity? Have you never known a man who valued you for who you are?”

  The intensity in his voice brought tears to her eyes. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  He cursed under his breath and pounded his fist into the side of his thigh. “If I had a daughter, I would not let her go with any man unless I was sure he would take the best of care of her. And if I wanted you for my wife . . . Well, if I wanted you for my wife, money would have no part of it. You would not be treated as property, as some kind of collateral.”

  Trinity opened her mouth to speak, wanting to thank him for his kind words, but the whistle of a train sounded nearby, and she heard footsteps in the dining room. “I imagine it’s time for the next meal,” she said for lack of anything more intelligent.

  “Yes, it sounds like it.” He flexed his fingers a couple of times and then smiled. “I wonder what’s on the menu for dinner. It smells wonderful, whatever it is.”

  Chapter Five

  After dinner, Trinity had excused herself and gone upstairs, where she all but fell into bed and into a hard sleep. Now it was three in the morning, and she was wide awake, jolted by a bad dream.

  She crossed the floor and peered out the window. The moon was bright and full, almost crisp in its whiteness. It sent a shaft of light across the ground and seemed to land right on her. She wished she could somehow walk up the moonbeam path and see what was up there, so far above.

  Her imagination was going to get her in trouble one of these days. Shaking her head, she climbed back into bed, determined to go back to sleep.

  But she couldn’t. The bed was comfortable, and she had plenty of blankets. She wasn’t too cold or too hot, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t relax. Finally, she stared at the ceiling and allowed herself to think about Mr. Foster . . . Dr. Foster . . . Raymond.

  He was easily the most infuriating man she’d ever met, the way he picked things apart and analyzed her and questioned everything she said. But the way he looked at her . . . she felt like a pat of butter on a warm day. When he spoke in her defense, it nearly made her cry—she’d never heard anything so wonderful in her life.

  And then when he said, “If I wanted you for my wife . . .”

  No. She wasn’t going to think about it. Her heart had leaped when she heard it, true, but that didn’t make it a reality. He was appalled at the way she’d been treated because he was a good man. Gracious—did she really think she could fall in love with someone after knowing him for just a matter of hours? That’s not how things worked, and she was engaged to marry Thomas Wells.

  She tried to bring Thomas up in her mind. What did he look like? She remembered a small white beard, blue eyes, and a cane that seemed mostly for show. He had a pleasant laugh, and he had indicated interest in her needlework. That was all. She could remember nothing about his personality, his likes or dislikes, his religion—if he even had a religion—this was a sorry state. She knew more about a man she’d met on the train than she did about the man she was marrying.

  This was ridiculous. She climbed out of bed and put her yellow dress back on, then slipped down the stairs. One of the waitresses was in the lobby, probably to see to the needs of any late-arriving guests, and gave her a smile as she passed.

  As she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, the cool night air washed over her, and she took a deep breath. Crickets sounded somewhere in the distance, and the moon seemed even brighter when there wasn’t a pane of glass separating her from it.

  “Are you having a hard night?”

  Trinity turned at the soft female voice and saw Mrs. Brody sitting in a rocking chair on the porch behind her. “I am, actually. The room is comfortable, but my thoughts are too noisy.”

  Mrs. Brody patted the empty rocking chair next to her, and Trinity took the invitation. “I can never sleep when the moon is this full. It energizes me somehow, speaks to me, and I have to come out here and talk to it so I can be at peace.”

  “And what do you say to it?” Trinity asked.

  “Oh, all sorts of crazy things. What’s going on in my life, the things that are worrying me, my concern about a certain young lady who’s supposed to be asleep, and yet wandered out here looking for answers of her own.” Mrs. Brody’s smile was gentle. “You’ve had a terrible experience, Miss Scott. What can I do to ease your burden?”

  “I’m not sure there’s much that can be done, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “It sounds as though you feel trapped.”

  “I believe I am trapped. My father has given me an ultimatum, and I don’t see my way clear of it. Either I marry his friend, or I’m cast off. I have no savings, no work skills—how could I make my way in the world without something of value to contribute to it?”

  Mrs. Brody nodded. “And his friend . . .”

  “I know practically nothing about him, except that he’s three times older than myself.”

  “I can see why you can’t sleep.” Mrs. Brody rocked a few times before speaking again. “One of our first waitresses was a young woman named Olivia. She was terrible at her job. She couldn’t prepare food, she was rude to the guest
s, she kept flirting with my husband . . .”

  “What?”

  Mrs. Brody laughed. “This was right before we got married. She came here thinking to win him back only to find that he’d never loved her in the first place and was now engaged to me. At any rate, she found her footing. She married the pastor here in town and so she no longer works for us, but whenever we need an extra hand, she’s the one we call on first.”

  “That’s quite the story, but I’m not sure how it applies to my situation.”

  “I’m offering you a job here at the hotel.”

  For the second time in under a minute, Trinity was surprised. “You are?”

  “You say you aren’t skilled—skills are taught, and all you need is a teacher. If you stay here and work for us, you’d be independent, and you wouldn’t need to marry this man unless it’s what you wanted. Now, he does sound prosperous and respected, so you’d have a firm place in society as his wife—think about that as you make this choice. A waitress doesn’t command quite the same respect as a society matron, but it’s an alternative.”

  Trinity leaned her head back against the back of her chair and rocked. “You’d do that for me?” she asked after a moment. “You’d trust me, having just met me?”

  “I consider myself a good judge of character, and yes, I trust you. Furthermore, the Brody saved me from a terrible situation when I first arrived, and it’s my privilege to extend that same blessing to others. Think about it, would you? I don’t need your answer immediately, and in fact, you might want to go meet this prospective bridegroom and get to know him better. Then, if things don’t work out, you can return here. You have more choices than you realize.”

  “I . . . feel like I can finally breathe,” Trinity replied. “Thank you so much. Of course I’ll consider it.”