by Lisa Bingham
“No. No!” The Beasleys looked at one another in horror. They hadn’t had time to warn Jacob, and the train was preparing to leave.
“We could run, Alma.”
“Neither of us are in any condition to run all the way to the parlor car. Besides”—she gestured as Krupp’s men tugged the last of the horses onto the train and slid the ramp inside, slamming the door—“they can’t do anything until the next stop. We’ll warn him then.” She began to hurry to their own car, Mr. Peebles and her sister scurrying behind her. They were nearly there, nearly safe, when Alma made her big mistake. She glanced back, just once, to see if Amelia was able to keep up. Without warning, she ran head-on into someone coming from the opposite direction.
The breath left her body in a whoosh and she fell to the ground in a heap of petticoats and ruffles. Looking up, up, up, up, she gasped in horror when she came face to face with Ethan McGuire.
“What the hell?” he muttered, staring at them all in disbelief.
The train began to shimmy. There wasn’t time.
“Get him, Amelia!”
Without hesitation, Amelia swung her bag at the man. The solid thump of the horseshoe she kept inside for protection connected with Ethan’s skull, and he wilted.
Alma scrambled to her feet. “Leave him and get on the train. Hurry! If that thing gets going any faster, we’ll never be able to jump on!”
The train was already beginning to ease away from the station as Jacob made his way to the parlor car. Dammit! He didn’t even have time to warn his men to be on the lookout for Krupp. They’d all assumed that the man was still in Chicago, still wreaking havoc, but Jacob knew right to his bones that the man was somewhere near. He would have to wait until the deputies made their periodic sweeps through the cars. Bit by bit, they could pass the word.
The huge iron wheels began to spin, and Jacob was forced to jog, then run, grabbing the railing of the parlor car and swinging aboard. Pausing for a moment, his back to the painted wood, he closed his eyes, trying to think. It was too late to get Fiona off and whisk her to safety. He would have to play out the charade they’d already started. A little after ten, the excursion would stop again for a late-evening meal. As soon as they’d come to a halt, he would send her home.
Then he’d take Kensington himself and wait for Krupp to appear.
“You play very well, Mrs. McFee.”
There was no denying the hard edge to Kensington’s voice. For the past hour, he’d been losing. Badly. With each mile, each clack of the train, his composure had slipped, revealing a man who found it difficult to believe that he could be bested by a woman.
Jacob stood up and made his way to the rear of the car, where a sideboard held a collection of cookies and tarts, urns of hot tea and coffee, and a bottle of brandy. One of the porters had just brought the light repast, then left again, heading forward.
“Tea, Mrs. McFee?”
“Thank you, Jacob, I do believe I will.”
He heard the rustle of silk as she got up. “Mr. Kensington? Would you care for some tea as well?”
“No. Thank you.” His tone was barely civil.
Jacob couldn’t miss the twinkle of delight in Fiona’s eyes as she joined him.
“He’s a bit of a poor sport, isn’t he?” she murmured for Jacob’s ears alone. She reached for a cup and saucer, holding it out for Jacob to fill. “I’m not sure, but I do believe he started slipping the phony stuff in about an hour ago.”
Jacob didn’t respond. He found himself staring at Fiona as if he’d never seen her. Dear heaven, what had he done? He’d put this woman in terrible danger. This woman that he…
Loved?
No, it couldn’t be. He cared for her, yes. He thought of her constantly. But love?
A tenderness stole into his soul. A longing. Then, at long last, an acceptance. He loved her. For so long he’d ignored the signs, ignored the increasing worry he’d felt for her safety. He’d thought he’d felt little more than passion, but when she lay in his arms, the emotions he experienced went much deeper than that. Much, much deeper.
“Fiona?” It was a bare breath of sound. He had to tell her, he had to confess his love.
“Jacob, what’s wrong? Kensington is staring at you.”
In a flash, the significance of his surroundings crashed around him, and all the worries came rushing back. Now wasn’t the time for intimate confidences. But soon. Soon.
It was growing dark outside, enough so that his own reflection stared at him from the window. His and Kensington’s. He couldn’t miss the way the gambler kept casting furtive glances outside. Why?
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Mmm?”
“I think we’ve caught him red-handed, Jacob.”
“Of course. Good job.”
Her brows rose. “You could show a little more enthusiasm for the prospect.”
“Fiona.” He touched her waist, turning her away from Kensington. “I want you to listen very carefully. In about an hour, the train will…” His words petered away when he thought he heard an odd noise coming from outside. He paused, waited. When it didn’t occur again, he said, “I want you to—”
Thump, thump-thump-thump-thump.
Jacob’s hand tightened automatically. The noise was muted but unmistakable, coming from overhead.
“What—”
“Shh.”
His brow creased, trying to pinpoint what could be causing such a commotion. Before his brain could grasp the significance, the door burst open, revealing an armed man. Behind him, two other men were tugging at the hitch.
Kensington stood, bumping the table and sending chips cascading to the floor.
“Come on, Fiona!” Jacob grasped her hand, pulling her toward the rear door, but an abrupt jarring caused them to stumble. The parlor car and the rest of the railway cars behind them had been successfully unhitched from the main portion of the train. Without the impetus of the engine, the wheels began to lose speed.
“Dammit all to hell,” Jacob muttered under his breath, glancing out one of the windows. “As soon as we slow down enough, I want you to jump.”
She looked out, seeing the rocky banks of the track, the scrub oak and weeds. “I will not.”
“Fiona, we haven’t got time to argue!”
“He’s right, you know,” a tall figure said after flinging open the rear door and stepping inside. He spoke again, his low voice silky smooth and filled with menace: “You haven’t any time left at all.”
Jacob touched Fiona’s arm, his fingers digging into her skin, warning her to keep quiet as they confronted the tall, gray-haired man who held them in the sights of his revolver.
Jacob took a deep breath to calm his pounding pulse. “Hello, Krupp.” He nodded to a second man standing just behind his nemesis. “Stone.”
Krupp’s lips tilted in a semblance of a smile, but there was no warmth behind it, only a calculated cruelty. “Why look, Gerald. If it isn’t Marshal Jacob Grey. Fancy meeting you here. How many years has it been?” His brows furrowed in open hatred. “How many years since you betrayed me?”
Before Fiona knew what he meant to do, Jacob dodged toward The Judge, but Stone intervened, bludgeoning him over the ear with the hilt of his rifle.
Jacob crumpled to the ground, and Krupp looked at Fiona. “Would you care to try anything as well?”
She shook her head. Her breath came in short pants. Saints above, where were Jacob’s men? She knew a fair portion of them had been assigned to the baggage cars and the passenger cars. She’d seen the way they occasionally passed through the parlor car. How had Krupp and his cohorts managed to circumvent their preventive measures?
“If you’re waiting for the other deputies to save you, then don’t bother to waste your time. We took control of the locomotive just outside of Bennington. Twenty minutes ago, we cut the caboose and the baggage car full of the other deputies loose. As you saw, we then separated you from
the rest of the train. Even if the lawmen riding in the passenger cars saw what had occurred, they’ve no way to get here in time. As for the guards posted to watch you personally…” He shrugged. “I’m so sorry to inform you that they won’t be warning anyone of anything ever again.”
A shiver ran up Fiona’s spine. In one bald statement, this man had shown her how cool he could be. How calculated. She stared at him long and hard, wanting to imprint upon her memory the face of the person responsible for the death of her father.
“Tie them up.”
Jacob was hauled to his feet. He moaned, weaving. Blood ran from a gash beneath his hair, down his neck, to be soaked up by the fabric of his collar. Fiona had to fight the urge to rush to him, to tend to his wound. Such actions would only result in Krupp’s amusement, she was sure. Besides which, she knew that to examine the full extent of Jacob’s injuries would unsettle her completely. She had to keep her wits. Jacob was fine—he had to be fine. Nothing could happen to him. She wouldn’t be able to bear it otherwise.
The wheels squeaked to a slow halt, then shivered as the fractured portion of the train came to a complete stop. After the pulse and pant of the engine and the clacking of the track beneath the iron wheels, the silence was overwhelming.
“Secure them,” Krupp ordered again. “I don’t want any more outbursts like the last one.”
A pair of filthy men who had helped cripple the car stepped forward. Fiona’s hands were bound together at her waist, and looking at Jacob, she saw that he’d suffered a similar fate. Then, a rough hand at their spines, they were pushed outside.
Another half-dozen horsemen were assembling in the deserted pasture. They unloaded their mounts from a boxcar toward the end of the string of cars. When they saw Krupp, they gathered close.
“What are you trying to do, Krupp?” Jacob asked when they were surrounded by a circle of Star Council members.
Krupp made a tsk-ing noise with his tongue. “Patience, Grey. Patience. It is a quality I was taught all too well in prison. I do believe that you need to learn that some things are worth waiting a lifetime to obtain.” He touched Fiona’s cheek. “Such as finding one’s true love. Securing wealth. Success.” His fingers became cruel as they bit into her chin. “And revenge.”
Shoving her away, he strode to the horse that had obviously been prepared for his benefit. “Put them on that sway-backed nag.”
An old, desperately balking mount was led forward. Except for a bridle, it wore no other tack, not even a blanket. Jacob was pushed onto it first, then Fiona was put behind him. Having her hands bound made it difficult for her to keep her seat, but at least her wrists had been tied in front of her body and not behind, so she was able to tuck her fingers into Jacob’s waistband for balance.
Krupp nodded in approval, then inched his own gelding forward so that he was only a scant distance away. Leaning forward, he sneered at Jacob in open disgust. “Over ten years ago, I tried to teach you something, Jacob. I tried to teach you how to be a lawman. I obviously failed. You turned on me. On me and your own kind. Because of that, I think it’s time you learned a lesson of another sort: What it’s like to be a wanted man.”
With that, he slapped the old mare on the rump, causing it to jump, jog a few feet, then prance skittishly in a semicircle.
“Twenty minutes, Jacob. You have twenty minutes to make some sort of escape. Then we’ll see how well you like being hunted.”
Alma, Amelia, and Mr. Peebles dodged into the baggage car. Pushing the door closed except for a slit, Alma glanced at her companions, trembling with a combination of nerves, exertion, and fear.
“What are we going to do?” Amelia was the first to speak. Her normally pale complexion had adopted an even whiter cast.
“We’ve got to fight back!” Alma proclaimed.
“But how?”
Mr. Peebles cleared his throat. “If I might make a suggestion…”
“I doubt there’s a gun to be had in all these trunks and satchels.”
“Ladies, if I could…”
“We’ll have to find something.”
“There’s over a dozen men out there!”
“We’ve never been one to give up on a fight. Are you going to start now, Amelia?”
“Alma, apologize at—”
“Ladies!”
Mr. Peebles’s violent whisper broke into the gathering argument. “We haven’t time for bickering.”
Amelia blinked and sighed. “Why, Mr. Peebles. How domineering you’ve become.”
Mr. Peebles ignored them. “Where are your things?”
“We left them by the door over there.” Amelia pointed to the spot.
“With the dynamite? You haven’t thrown it away, have you?”
Alma gave him a withering look. “We might be advanced in years, Mr. Peebles, but we are not fools. Of course we kept it. We do have gophers, you know.”
He blinked at that odd statement, then waved it away. “Don’t you see? We can use the dynamite!”
Alma frowned. “No. There’s no way to light the sticks. They are useless, utterly useless without some sort of fuse. We finally put them in a barrel of burning trash and rolled it onto the track.”
“Amelia, go get the bag,” Mr. Peebles ordered. Then he turned to Alma. “When you blew up the station, was there anything with the sticks? Pieces of fuse, odd sorts of equipment?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then we’ve got all we need, ladies. I’ll show you how to set the fuses. All we need are some matches.”
“I’ve got matches!” Amelia volunteered, returning with the bulging bag.
“We are well aware of that,” Alma muttered as they hurried to open the carpetbag.
Amelia asked, “Mr. Peebles, how do you know so much about this?”
He grinned in clear delight. “Why ladies, before deciding to work toward my lifelong dream of tailoring, I had another position. That of blasting tunnels for the railroad.”
“What are you doing?”
Fiona nudged Jacob when he urged the nag into a brisker walk, all the while turning the animal resolutely toward the train. They’d gone little more than a quarter of a mile, yet he was heading the mare to the point where they’d started.
“They expect us to run, Fiona.”
“Let’s not disappoint them!”
“If we try to escape we haven’t got a ghost of a chance. We have no weapons, no food, no water, no real knowledge of our surroundings. Krupp and his men obviously came into this situation well prepared. Our only defense is to take them by surprise and double back.”
“Jacob…”
“I know what I’m doing, Fiona.”
She frowned at his brusque defense. Didn’t he know she was aware of that? Didn’t he know that she wasn’t afraid for herself but for him? She’d seen the murderous light in Krupp’s eyes and the fanaticism to be found in his associates. None of these men would take kindly to having their plans rearranged.
But Jacob refused to reconsider. The mare they rode continued toward the train, sometimes walking, sometimes jogging, never breaking into anything faster than an uncomfortable trot.
“As soon as we reach that ridge up ahead, I want you to get down. Hide there until I—”
“No.” Her fingers dug into his skin.
“Fiona, do as I say.”
“No. I go with you or neither of us goes.”
“Fiona, I won’t—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was completely drowned out by a horrible explosion. Jacob immediately dove from the horse, dragging Fiona with him. After a wild snort, the mare reared, then galloped off in the opposite direction, its reins trailing in the dust.
Jacob peered over the ridge as board planks and splintered pieces of iron showered to the ground. Then a second boxcar exploded, lifting from the track before shattering in a hail of fire, smoke, and debris.
“Is Krupp trying to destroy the evidence?” Fiona
asked, utterly confused by the turn of events.
“Evidence of what? That he and his men rode on a train? The fact would be painfully obvious to anyone by now, so why blow up the boxcars? It doesn’t make sense.” He twisted his hands in an attempt to free his bindings, tipping his head to gesture to the members of the Star Council who were trying to control their mounts. Three of the men who’d been too close to the train lay upon the ground, not moving.
Jacob’s ropes loosened and he threw them away. When a third boxcar detonated, he ducked, covering Fiona’s head with his body as sparks showered the dusty grass.
When he released her, Fiona glanced up, then squinted into the fire-tinted darkness when she thought she saw a shadow, then two.
“Jacob, look.” She pointed beyond the tracks, to where a pair of silhouettes were momentarily illuminated against the blaze.
“Good hell almighty, what are the Beasleys doing here? I sent them home.”
“On which train?”
“The one… after… Dammit, they stowed away!”
“Add it to the list of their crimes.”
He slapped the ground. “And there’s Peebles skulking through the smoke.”
“Jacob, when you sent the Beasleys back to Madison… did you take away their dynamite?”
“Of course I took it away. I gave it to one of my deputies to… keep…” He glared in the direction of the wreckage. “They stole it! They sneaked onto the train and stole it from him.”
“So it would seem.”
His lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “I’ll be double damned.”
He quickly helped to release her hands. Then they watched as Mr. Peebles and his elderly assistants made their way to the next boxcar. When they scuttled away, Jacob ordered, “Stay here.”
“But—”
“Just stay, Fiona!”
The air reverberated with the horrible thunder of explosives. Jacob dodged into the confusion of screaming horses and shouting men. He disabled two of Krupp’s cohorts and returned with three pistols and a rifle.
“I want you to take this.” He gave her the rifle.