Betina Krahn

  “Dont tell me. Let me guess,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You just couldn’t say no.”

  He reddened … ears first, then face.

  It was at that moment that she knew no matter how deep the wound of his betrayal or how many tears he had caused her to shed … she was still in love with Bear McQuaid. And probably always would be.

  After the dinner dishes were cleared away, Bear announced that he would be back in a few hours and Robbie popped up to accompany him. He stood for a moment, fingering the key, then suggested that Robbie stay with Diamond.

  “Now that is insulting. A ten-year-old jailer,” she said, folding her arms. “If I had wanted to escape, you know, I would be well down the tracks by now.”

  “But you aren’t. You’re still here.” Bear studied her as if he were trying to figure out why.

  “I have an investment to protect,” she declared. “I intend to see the building of the Montana Central and Mountain with my own two eyes.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other, realizing that she was laying down a challenge. His future with her depended on him proving himself … on him building the railroad that had brought them together and then had torn them apart. Bringing her, even against her will, had been the right thing to do. The deepest tension inside him eased. When she saw the last bit of track go into place, when she saw the first run and understood that he was a man of his word, she would have to believe him.

  “I have to get back to work.”

  He grabbed his hat off the rack beside the door and ducked outside. When he reached the ground and struck off down the tracks, he heard the door open behind him and looked back. Diamond, wearing the figured tablecloth as a shawl, and Robbie were hurrying down the steps.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To watch you do business,” she said, bustling toward him. “If I’m going to go bankrupt, I intend to see it happening firsthand.”

  Muttering, Bear turned on his heel and left her and Robbie to follow him across several tracks to a siding that didn’t see frequent use. The rails were rusty and the wooden shacks nearby looked hastily assembled. Small groups of disheveled-looking men were standing around smoking and talking. They silenced as Bear approached and then settled curious looks on Diamond.

  Bear climbed up on an overturned crate and announced: “I’ve got work and plenty of it. A fair day’s wage for a fair day’s work. Bonus pay if you stay till the job is done.”

  “Yeah?” someone called as a number of the men came over to stand before him. “Where is this work?”

  “Montana. We’ll be laying over two hundred miles of track … the new Montana Central and Mountain.” The mutters and comments were far from positive. “The steel lies right over there—on that string of flatcars,” he continued. “You can see the top of the crane from here. And if you sign on now, you’ll get first choice of the bunks—two cars’ worth of them.” Enthusiasm was still low.

  “You gonna charge for the ride out there?” someone in the group asked.

  “You must’ve worked on the B and O.” Bear gave a short laugh. “No charge. Transportation is provided … on that very train.”

  “What about food? You got a cook? Or do we have to buy local?”

  Clearly, these were men who had laid track before and knew the pitfalls of working this sort of job. Violent strikes had rocked Baltimore’s railroads a few years back, over just such issues: requirements that workers shop at company stores and eat at company-owned dining halls, requirements that workers pay for their own tickets to return home after working outbound runs. Some workers were lucky to be able to bring any money at all home to their families.

  Bear paused, thinking, then declared: “We got a cook. And a kitchen. We’ll have all the food you need … first plate free.”

  “Oh, yeah?” The skeptic pointed at Diamond. “That yer cook, over there?”

  A tense moment followed, in which she watched Bear struggle with temptation. She kept silent, wondering just how desperate or greedy he truly was. Would she be “the cook” if it suited his purpose?

  “No.” He looked intently at her as if sensing her thoughts. “That, gentlemen, is Mrs. McQuaid, my wife.”

  Everywhere Bear went recruiting men that afternoon, he had similar problems. Despite his offer of a decent wage and transportation, many of the men were wary to sign on without proof of Bear’s claim that food and lodging would be provided.

  “Well, just get a kitchen, then,” Robbie suggested as they walked along.

  “I can’t afford a kitchen,” he said, glowering.

  Then Diamond, who had been awaiting an opportunity, spoke up.

  “Of course, I’m just a former owner and a mere woman … but it seems to me, you can’t afford not to have one … unless, of course, you’ve built time into your schedule for your workers to go out each morning and hunt prairie chickens for breakfast.”

  He studied the light in her eyes, then turned his glare on Robbie.

  “I think I liked it better when all she said was no.”

  That afternoon another car was added to the row of cars headed for Montana: a kitchen car, complete with stoves, pots, griddles, and utensils. As soon as it was coupled onto the other cars, Bear stalked over to that first makeshift camp, grabbed the head scoffer by the collar, and dragged him over to see it. With such direct persuasion, the fellow signed up on the spot, and soon half a dozen others had joined him.

  By the time they pulled out of the station the next afternoon, they had filled one dormitory and part of the next. At every stop, Bear made his pitch and hired one or two additional workers. When they reached Milwaukee, he located and hired a cook and heaved a sigh of relief.

  Diamond watched him recruiting workers, making promises, and sharing his dream with these men, and recalled the way she herself had been swept up by his conviction and desire to be a part of Progress. With each recruiting talk she witnessed, she found it a bit harder to maintain her cynicism about his motives.

  He not only wanted to build this railroad, she had to admit, he was passionate about it. It was the most important thing in the world to him, more important than, say, telling the truth to her. The thought produced a twinge of pain in her chest. It was thin comfort to learn that, although his integrity didn’t extend to his relationship with her, he did at least have some.

  By the time they stopped in Wisconsin to take on cars loaded with lumber and began to inch toward St. Paul, Diamond was heartily regretting her stubbornness over the clothing in Chicago. Washing each morning in a small basin and wringing out her smalls and stockings each night were just not sufficient. When she broached the prickly subject, couching her interest in shopping in terms of Robbie’s need for clothing, Bear’s knowing look rasped her still-tender pride.

  “So, are you saying you made a mistake back in Chicago?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “But you say now that you need clothes … so it’s really the same thing.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Oh, then you stick by your claim that you don’t need clothes.” He smiled as she struggled silently with his conclusion. “Fine. Then I’ll just take Robbie into town and get him a few things.” As he donned his hat and started out the door, he looked back at her red face and clenched fists and smiled. “Want to come?”

  “No!”

  That evening, after they returned from a trackside restaurant, Bear winked at Robbie and sent him out to “check on the crane.” Then he carried his cup of coffee to the settee and watched Diamond settle into a chair with the lap desk over her knees to write Hannah and Hardwell a letter. As she inked her pen and began to write, he cleared his throat.

  “Are you still angry with me?” he asked.

  “Why should I be angry?” she said, refusing to look up. “Other than the fact that I was tricked into marriage by a man who only wanted my money and within two days was already looting my assets. A man who then abducted me from my home and hauled me h
alfway across the country locked in a privy—”

  “It wasn’t my fault you slept in the necessary that first night,” he said.

  “A man who is too arrogant or too stingy and cheap to allow me to buy a change of clothes,” she continued irritably, “unless I abase myself before him.”

  “Ouch.” He sat up straight. “You think I’m cheap and stingy?”

  “If the shoe fits …”

  He rose, headed out the door, and a moment later returned.

  “Well, then, I suppose I should take back these boots. Cheap, stingy bastards don’t buy top-quality boots. Or French linen underclothes. Or belts with silver buckles. Or lady hats with egret feathers …”

  When she looked up, he was standing not far away with his arms piled high with packages and boots and a hatbox and a number of garments draped over his shoulders. She set the desk aside and rose staring at the things and clasping her hands together tightly to hide their sudden trembling.

  “For me?” she asked, her throat tight.

  “Well, I doubt I’d ever get my big feet into these.” He thrust the sleek black boots into her hands. “And I’d look downright silly in this headgear.” He flipped open the top of the hatbox with his nose and managed to pull out a black broad-brimmed hat. It was a feminized, stylish version of the one he generally wore. And there was indeed a small white egret feather stuck in the band.

  She couldn’t help smiling, no matter how much she would probably regret it. She would just have to worry some other time about this thrilling lightness in her chest.

  “If they don’t fit,” he said with a hint of uncertainty, “we’ll just have to fatten you up or starve you down until they do. We have to pull out at first light tomorrow, and we’ll be high-ballin’ it all the way to Great Fa—”

  A rumble and ringing metallic crash burst through the car, shaking walls and floor and windows to the breaking point. When the quaking stopped Bear wheeled, dumping the clothes on the floor, and bolted outside.

  “What’s happened?” Diamond called, rushing after him.

  In the lowering evening light, they could see tons of steel rail lying like scattered pickup sticks on the ground. A glance at the car they had fallen from told the story; the supports on one of the flatcars were dangling … seemingly had given way. Bear rushed to survey the damage, then planted himself on top of the fallen rails as the men came pouring out of the dormitories.

  “Anybody get in the way of this? Anybody hurt?” he demanded.

  There seemed to be no injuries, until one grizzled-looking old railroader came forward with: “The kid’s shook up a bit.” He was ushering a limping, wide-eyed Robbie forward.

  “Robbie!” Diamond flew to him and dropped to her knees. “Where are you hurt? What happened—what were you doing out here?”

  “Just knocked me down, is all,” Robbie said, still winded and gasping for breath. “Hit my arm …” When asked to do so, he could move it and, though it was sore, it didn’t seem broken. Bear turned to the men gathered around.

  “Anybody see what happened?” He looked from face to face. “Anybody see anything?” After a fruitless wait, he expelled a heavy breath. “All right. We got work to do if we’re pulling out at first light.” He glanced at Diamond. “Can you get him back inside?” When she nodded and moved Robbie toward their car, he turned to his men. “The rest of you … it looks like your work starts early. Get some ropes out of the equipment car to haul these rails back up and secure them.”

  It was some time before Bear returned to the car. Diamond had tucked Robbie into the big bed in the sleeping compartment, so that she could check on him during the night, and was sitting at the table.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked, seeing the rust and grease on his shirt and the grim look on his face. He nodded.

  “Checked all the lashings and supports on the other cars. They seem to be okay. Robbie?” he asked, sinking into a chair.

  “Nothing is broken. He’ll be fine.” She rose and came near his chair. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Preoccupied, he shook his head. “I’ll get it. Go on to bed.”

  As she lay on the bed beside Robbie, wearing her new cotton nightdress and staring up at the moon shadows dancing on the decorative tin ceiling, she listened to Bear moving around in the parlor of the car and didn’t know which bothered her most; the fact that he was worried about something or that he didn’t think enough of her to tell her why.

  SEVENTEEN

  It was clear, as Diamond looked out the windows of the train, that they weren’t in the civilized East anymore. The dense white pine forests of Wisconsin and oaks of eastern Minnesota gave way to short-grass prairie that seemed to roll on to eternity, unbroken except for the occasional tops of trees jutting up from dry creek beds and clustered along muddy, meandering rivers. And as they pushed farther west, the land grew even more forbidding, studded with rocky buttes, wind-carved escarpments, and deep ravines.

  But the terrain was not all that was changing.

  Beginning with their last night in St. Paul, Bear had begun to “walk” the cars regularly, climbing up the ladders and over roofs and cargoes, traveling the length of the train and back. Diamond watched in horror as he jumped between platforms or bounded from a ladder up onto the roof of a car, and wondered if he were that desperate to escape her and the tension that sometimes crackled like static electricity between them. When she saw Robbie raptly watching Bear’s acrobatics, she dragged him away from the window and declared that if he ever tried something like that and survived, she would happily strangle him afterward.

  By the time they reached the Dakotas she discovered that several men bearing rifles had quietly appeared in the engine cab, on top of the coal tender, and on strategically placed platforms and flatcars.

  “Is this gun business really necessary?” Diamond demanded irritably of Bear, when Robbie announced that one of the men had let him hold a rifle.

  “Rough country,” Bear said, scowling. “Have to be prepared for anything.”

  Just what sort of “anything” was made clear the next afternoon when she heard the rifles firing and felt the train slowing down. Rushing to the windows, she and Robbie spotted a number of bison running from the sound, vacating the tracks up ahead. She slid weak-kneed into a chair with her hand clutching her racing heart, while Robbie jumped around the car and whooped with excitement.

  They pulled into Great Falls in the early hours of the morning and had to wait until after sunup for the tracks to clear so they could reach the station. By the time they came to a full stop, the wooden platform was crowded with people who had heard their whistle and come running to meet the train.

  “About time ye got here!” Halt Finnegan shouted as he worked his way through a motley crowd of cowhands, railroad clerks and porters, and barkers hawking everything from land tracts to gold claims to hot meals. The Irishman’s voice boomed and his grin was filled with relief as he clamped a thick arm around Bear and all but lifted him off the ground. “So how was it—yer first ride behind yer own engine?”

  “Not bad, Finnegan.” Bear’s grin was tempered by the fatigue and strain he glimpsed in his partner’s face. “You ought to try it sometime.”

  “That I will. And th’ rails?” Halt craned his neck for a glimpse of them.

  “All present and accounted for,” Bear said. “Got the crane and picked up thirty or so men. I took on a kitchen and hired a cook back in Milwaukee. It wasn’t in our plan, but I figured it would save time and money in the long run.”

  “A cook?” Halt frowned, but seemed more distracted than disapproving. “I hope he makes good biscuits. A man can’t get a decent biscuit to save ’is soul, in this infernal place.” He lowered his voice and pulled something out from under his coat. “Here, lad. Ye might be needin’ this.”

  Bear looked down at his revolver and holster and felt his skin contract.

  “What’s happened?” He stood straighter and instinctively began to sc
an the people on the platform for signs of threat.

  “Not much.” Halt looked around them and flashed Bear a look at the gun inside his own coat. “But Beecher’s in town. Was here when I got here … payin’ calls on th’ ranchers we bought land from, tellin’ ’em we didn’t get loans and our contracts with ’em weren’t worth a spit in a windstorm. Offered ’em twenty cents on the dollar—”

  “They didn’t sell to him?”

  “No, but it’s just the luck o’ the Irish I wasn’t one day later,” Halt said, “else we’d ’ave lost the McGregor land. Once the ranchers got word I was back, they quit listenin’ to Beecher, and I made good on our options an’ registered th’ deeds.” He gave a wicked laugh.

  “I could get used to this … having a jingle in my pockets. When we drive th’ last spike in th’ Central an’ Mountain, I may have to find meself a rich wife!”

  Wife. Bear remembered suddenly and turned back toward the car. Diamond was standing not far behind them, holding Robbie’s hand. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were dark. Clearly, she had heard Halt’s comment.

  “Well, I’ll be …” Halt recovered quickly. “If it ain’t the little lady herself.” He removed his hat and headed for her with his hand outstretched. “Welcome!”

  She didn’t release Robbie or abandon her grip on her satchel.

  “And you are?” she asked evenly.

  “Halt Finnegan.” Bear inserted himself between them. “My partner.”

  “Ahhh.” She gave Bear an accusing look. “Your partner.” Then she turned a polite smile on Halt. “You look strangely familiar, Mr. Finnegan. But I can’t imagine where we would have met … so I must be recalling someone else.”

  “There’s but one o’ me, ma’am,” Halt said with a twinkle in his eye, glancing between Bear and Bear’s frosty wife. “And this must be the young lad I heard about … the one who took sick a while back.”