by Jillian Hart
“You only asked about the coal heater. There are three of those actually.” She peered at the stove now. “I’ve never used it. When Father travels, Mr. Montgomery accompanies him and prepares his meals. I most often bring along prepared items. If there’s a dining car, I eat there.”
“What’s back there?” he asked, gesturing to the continuing hallway.
“Sleeping quarters and the necessary.” She turned and explained the facility to the children. Both were amazed and ran right back to examine it.
“Weapons or ammunition?” Jonah asked.
She took him to an overhead cabinet in her father’s sleeping room and opened it for him. He looked over the hunting rifle, a set of pistols and tins of bullets. “What about your gun?”
She turned away from him, raised the hem of her skirt and turned back with a derringer.
“That’s only effective at close range.”
“I can shoot the pistols, too.”
“If there’s trouble, go for those.”
She nodded her understanding. “Of course.”
“We’ll partition off those rooms to hold the heat out there in the first room. We might be here a while.”
“So we’ll all sleep out there?”
“Got a better idea for conserving the fuel?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Mind if I go look for blankets and what have you to cover the corridor?”
“Help yourself.” She turned her attention to feeding the children and sliced bread and cheese.
They ate hungrily and politely thanked her. She melted snow on the heater and filled a basin in which she bathed them and washed their hair. Hayden pitched an indignant fit, but she scrubbed him anyway. He was so dirty, he had crust behind his ears.
“This will have to do for now,” she said. “But we’re going to do it again tomorrow until you sparkle.”
Not amused, he frowned. “Men don’t sparkle.”
“When they’re eating at my table and sleeping on my furniture they do,” she disagreed.
Jillian sat near the coal heater, drying her hair. “I sparkle, don’t I, Miss Abbott?”
Indeed, Meredith thought, the child’s appearance was much improved from the streaked face and matted hair of an hour ago. “You shine,” she replied.
The wind howled down the stove pipe just then, and the car rocked slightly.
“Will the wind tip us over?” Hayden asked.
“This coach is seventy feet long and weighs over twenty-five tons,” she assured him. “A little wind isn’t going to blow it over.”
The marshal had returned from his task of nailing up quilts to overhear the last. “I thought the train seemed a trifle slow on the hills.”
“Usually they limit the cars ahead or add another engine when they pull us.”
“The other engine was rerouted as our decoy train.” He stepped to the window and surveyed the landscape. In the late afternoon light she got a good look at his features. Narrow nose, chiseled jaw and chin, a high forehead creased with white lines and a full expressive mouth. She carried a cup of coffee to him and he straightened to accept it.
His eyes were a golden-brown, shining like gemstones, the centers shrunk from gazing out into the bright snow. “Thanks.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“What do we have?”
“Bread, cheese, crackers, cookies and a box of chocolates. There’s flour, sugar, rice and coffee, as well.”
“I’ll set snares before it gets dark,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll have game. For now I’ll eat whatever’s handy.”
After he’d eaten the same fare the children had enjoyed and had another cup of coffee, Jonah trudged up a hillside and set snares, bending tree branches to guide the way back. The snow was well over a foot deep now and still falling heavily. Eventually darkness settled, and they nestled inside the luxurious Pullman. As long as they had to be stranded in a blizzard, these were the best conditions he could imagine.
The children looked different than when they’d found them that afternoon. Their hair and faces were clean, though the Abbott woman had used a foolish amount of their fuel supply to melt snow and bathe them. She’d done her share of gathering coal, however, so he kept his silence—for now. Tomorrow he’d have a talk with her about rationing.
He pulled the velvet curtains closed over the short windows and placed all the pillows used for adornment on the furniture in the deep sills to absorb cold, sound and hopefully even bullets. He doubted anyone was out in this storm, but his instincts, always on alert, told him to prepare for the worst.
She had pulled a narrow mattress from the rear of the car and made Hayden and Jillian comfortable upon it with quilts and a brocade counterpane. Upon a fainting couch, she settled a pillow and blankets for herself and gestured for Jonah to take the wide divan. He had placed his boots near the heater to dry, so the blankets felt good on his cold feet.
“Who’s expecting you in Denver?” he asked.
“My parents are there,” she answered. “My father is seeking governorship soon, so he’s attending all the holiday social events. Christmas is just three days away.” He’d forgotten.
“There’s a ball at the governor’s mansion tomorrow evening. That’s my destination.”
“Don’t think you’re going to make it.”
“One of my father’s associates is a young man with political aspirations himself. He was to be my escort, and…”
He waited for her to go on.
“He gave every indication that he’d made plans to propose.”
“Has he been courting you?”
“We’ve attended several social functions together, and he’s come to dinner at our home on occasion.”
“Has he kissed you?”
Before replying, she glanced at the children, who had immediately fallen into exhausted slumber. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
“Just making conversation.”
Silence stretched between them for several minutes before she said, “I don’t know your given name, Marshal Gallagher.”
“Jonah.”
“You may call me Meredith,” she said. “These are unusual circumstances, so I don’t see a need for formality.”
“Did you find out anything more about where those kids came from?”
“Hayden mentioned Polk City, but I didn’t prod. I figured tomorrow would be soon enough to ask. It’s obvious they’ve gone without proper care and food.”
In the dim light from the slits in the door of the coal heater, the fluffy white cat was visible as it came from hiding to leap up and join Meredith on the couch. From several feet away Jonah heard the animal’s contented purr as she stroked its fur.
“Did you decide it was safe to come out now that the children are sleeping?” she asked softly. “I’m not sure what to make of them, either.”
Jonah had spent his life sleeping on railcars, in a bedroll under the sky, in hotels, or occasionally as a guest in the home of a lawman, but this was the first time he’d shared quarters with a pretty socialite, a couple of rag-tag orphans and a cat.
Often, he had a criminal in his care, with the duty of delivering him to a jail or court, but for the most part he looked out for himself.
Suddenly he’d found himself responsible for the lives of the others whose soft, even breathing created a loud critical chorus in his head. If he was alone, he’d have taken off and made his way to the closest town. He couldn’t risk exposing Meredith Abbott and those kids to the elements. He reassured himself that even though they were sitting ducks, this was the safest place for them. Even if they were attacked, this structure was made of steel, and they had plenty of guns and ammunition.
For now, this was the best he could do.
Chapter Three
Meredith awoke to the smell of something baking. The marshal’s spot on the divan was empty, and the children nowhere to be seen, but she heard them. Pulling on her silk robe, she padded to the kit
chen, where the smell of coffee reached her, and her mouth watered.
“Morning,” Jonah said from the tiny stove, where he was plucking biscuits from a pan with his bare fingers, tossing them back and forth, then finally dropping them on a china plate.
“You made biscuits?”
“Found preserves too. Have a seat.”
Jillian already had red smears on either side of her mouth. She licked her fingers and studied the plate heaped with more biscuits.
Jonah plucked one from the pile, sliced it open and spread preserves on it for her.
“This is the bestest breakfast I ever had,” she said to the marshal, surprising Meredith, because she hadn’t said anything at all the day before.
“I’ve eaten my share of biscuits on the trail,” he answered and poured dark, steaming coffee into two china cups.
Meredith got sugar from a cupboard before sitting and adding a spoonful to her cup. Jonah drank his black.
She tasted the strong brew. She preferred tea, but this had smelled too good to pass up, and it was already prepared.
“I’ll check the traps later this morning,” he said, sitting to eat. “Most likely we’ll have a nice fat rabbit at noon.”
“Possums is good, too,” Hayden said.
Meredith stared at the biscuit she’d taken. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she could eat possum if that’s what had happened into the marshal’s snare. She tried not to dwell on the breakfast that would have greeted her in the hotel dining room had she made it to her destination last night. Fluffy yellow eggs, ham, hollandaise sauce and fresh fruit…?.
She bit into the biscuit and found it surprisingly tasty.
“Can I go with you out to check the snares?” Hayden asked.
Jonah glanced at Meredith. “Seems I recall seeing some boy’s clothing in one of those trunks we rifled.” He looked back at Hayden. “Long as you have dry clothing for our return, you can go with me.”
“What about clothing for you?” Meredith asked.
“My saddlebags are in the mail car.”
“Can I go, too?” Jillian asked.
“Stay here and help Miss Abbott,” Jonah told her.
Her crestfallen expression showed her displeasure at being left behind.
“We’ll do some sewing,” Meredith suggested.
Breakfast ended, and Jonah left with Hayden at his side. Meredith removed the pillows he’d placed at all the windows to let in daylight. She and Jillian watched their two forms, stark against the white background, as Jonah tramped through the snow with Hayden following in the footsteps he’d cleared. Snow still fell, and the wind gusted. Above their heads as far as she could see the sky was a gray haze.
After busying herself washing the dishes in a small amount of melted snow, Meredith folded and stacked their bedding in her sleeping area. She brushed Jillian’s hair and fashioned it by pulling the front away from her face with ribbons and leaving the rest flowing down her back. “You have such pretty hair,” she told the child.
“My mama had pretty hair,” Jillian told her. “When she was sick, I sat on her bed and brush-ded it for her.”
“I’m sure she liked that.”
She nodded. “Then she went to heaven and we din’t see her any again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you have a mama?”
“Yes. Her name is Deliah.”
“Do you gots a brother?”
“Two of them. One is older than me, like Hayden is to you, and the other is younger.”
“Where are they?”
“Morgan lives in Philadelphia with his wife. He’s an important attorney—a businessman. Peter is attending university.”
“What’s university?”
“School. Have you gone to school?”
She shook her head. “Hayden used to go, but not after Mama went to heaven.”
“What did the two of you do after your Mama—went to heaven?”
“The sheriff took us to a openage. We din’t like it there, so we run-ded away.”
“Where did you go?”
“We hid in our old cabin, ’til some people came to clean and wanted to live there. We couldn’t find nowhere safe, so Hayden said we was gonna go get our pa.”
Meredith couldn’t imagine children as young as these left to fend for themselves. Hadn’t their mother made provision for them? Where was their father?
Meredith had been pampered by her parents and their servants for as long as she could remember. She’d never gone hungry or been cold at night; in her family, even their winter outings were made comfortable with covered carriages and hot bricks at their feet.
She looked around this lavish Pullman she took for granted, comparing it to the drafty barren cabin she imagined Jillian had called home. Her thoughts traveled to the enormous decorated trees in two of the rooms at her family home in Philadelphia, packages with satin bows and candles burning of an evening.
“What did you do for Christmas when your mama was with you?” she asked.
“We went to church and sitted in the back row. Up front was a pretty tree with glass balls, and when no one else was there, we sat close to smell it and see the shiny stars. Mama bought us a meat pie for supper.”
“That’s sounds very special,” Meredith told her with a smile.
“Is it Christmas?” Jillian asked.
“Almost. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the next day is Christmas.”
“How many is that?”
Meredith reached for the little girl’s sturdy hand and helped her hold up three fingers. “This is today.” She folded down that finger. “And this is tomorrow.” She tucked that one under and then touched Jillian’s index finger with her own. “And this one is Christmas.”
“That’s not very many.”
Voices reached them from outdoors, and they hurried to the window to see Jonah and Hayden returning. Hayden had a pale gray animal flopping on his shoulder as he trudged through the snow, a wide grin on his face. Jonah carried an armful of wood.
“A wabbit!” Jillian cried. “We’re havin’ a wabbit for dinner.”
Thank goodness the possums had steered clear of the snares. Meredith had never tasted rabbit, but the idea didn’t sour her stomach as much as the thought of possum. If she didn’t like rabbit meat, she’d eat crackers.
She opened the door.
“Hand me down that knife I found yesterday,” Jonah said. “It’s inside the liquor cabinet. And pass out the fire poker. It’ll make a handy spit.”
She found both items. She and Jillian watched through the glass as Jonah showed the boy how to skin and clean the animal. Jonah rolled it in the snow to clean it, then speared it lengthwise with the poker. Before too long they had a fire going, the rabbit roasting above it.
“I kin smell it,” Jillian said reverently.
The door opened, and both of them rushed toward it.
“Want to put these in a pot of water?” Jonah held out a lumpy kerchief, roots dangling from an opening on one end.
She took it from him. “What are they?”
“Wild leeks and burdock root. I washed them off with snow, so just boil ’em.”
“They’re safe to eat?”
He grinned. “And pretty tasty, too.”
“Okay. Come on, Jillian.”
Sometime later, they sat around the table in the kitchen, with the tantalizing scents of meat and vegetables making Meredith’s stomach growl. “I must say the meal smells quite good.”
Jonah’s cheeks and nose were red from the cold, as were Hayden’s. After she’d served the children, she heaped a portion onto a gold-rimmed china plate and set it before him. He picked up a monogrammed fork. “Have to say I’ve never before eaten rabbit on such fancy dishes. Most times I eat it right off the spit with my fingers.”
“The good Lord gave us fingers ’afore He gave us forks,” Hayden added. “That’s what my ma used to say.”
“Well, that’s true, I suppose,” Meredit
h replied with a smile.
Jonah waited until she’d spooned out her own serving and tasted a bite before he dug into his meal.
The meat had been roasted to perfection, and tasted surprisingly good. Meredith ate the vegetables with appreciation for the marshal’s ingenuity. Hayden and Jillian cleaned their plates in no time. Meredith scooped out the last remaining bits of food onto their plates, and they ate appreciatively.
“Can we have this again tomorrow?” Hayden asked.
“Reckon it’ll depend on the critter that wanders into our snare,” Jonah replied.
“What if it’s a fox?” he asked.
Meredith cringed, but looked to Jonah for his reply. He grinned at the boy. “Might have to make somebody a hat.”
“Oh, boy! I hope we catch a fox!”
Meredith thought of the coat that kept her so warm, for the first time actually considering how many animals it had taken to make it.
“I wanna hat, too!” Jillian said.
“I’m sure we’ll have enough skins to make you a hat. How about mittens?” Jonah asked.
Jillian smiled from ear to ear, and Meredith recognized how easy it was to please these children. They were nothing like her spoiled niece and nephew, who had more than they needed and pouted when they didn’t get their way or had to eat their vegetables.
Meredith stacked their plates.
“I saw a set of bones in a trunk in the mail car. Do you know how to play?”
The children looked at Jonah with quizzical expressions.
“Bones?” Meredith asked skeptically.
“Yes, it’s a game with rectangular pieces made from bone or ivory—I think the ones I saw were ivory—and they have sets of dots on them. You play your bones on the matching numbers and try to block others from playing theirs.”
“You’re talking about dominoes,” Meredith said.
He shrugged. “Okay. Does anyone know how to play dominoes?”
“My mother never allowed me to play, but I’ve watched my brothers.” Meredith tried to keep umbrage from her voice.
“Why couldn’t you play?”
“She claimed it was a men’s game and not for ladies. I most often played the piano while the men enjoyed their games.”