by Sandy James
She stared up at him with curious eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
He shoved the money into her coat pocket before pulling the cap lower over her face. “Flashing money ’round like you’re the damn queen of England. Beggin’ to get robbed is what you’re doing.”
“I most certainly was not flashing my money—”
Ty grabbed the tickets the clerk was holding and shoved them at her. “Get what you wanted?”
Pushing them back toward him, she frowned. “Since it’s obvious you have little faith in my judgment, should you not check them yourself?”
He waved the tickets off and tried to give her a stern frown, but all she did was grin in return.
So much for intimidating her.
“Check the tickets, Cassie.”
With a resigned sigh, she scanned the top ticket before she slipped it under the second. “They seem to be in order. Sleeping berth number—”
“Berth? I can’t afford to buy us both berths. I told you day car seats.”
She pulled the few folded dollars he’d handed her when he sent her to buy the tickets out of her pocket. “I used my own money, sir, and I–I assumed we would share a berth. We must stay close. In–in case we encounter trouble.” Her cheeks flushed. “I assure you I can afford—”
“Oh, I know what you can afford.”
Resisting the urge to shout at her that he’d walk the entire way to Montana rather than ride with a ticket paid for by Shay money, he bit back his harsh words. Cassie could barely keep her eyes open, yawning every other minute. If they traveled in a day car, she wouldn’t get much rest. And it wasn’t as if her disguise was all that good. By cozying up in the same berth, he could keep a watch over her while she got some sleep away from prying eyes. Perhaps he could catch a nap as well.
She’d only bought one berth. Could that mean she wanted to be close to him as well?
“Fine,” he blurted out.
With a victorious smile he wanted to kiss right off her face, she led him to the car.
An attendant looked at the tickets then motioned for them to follow him inside. Once he reached one of the booths, he stopped. The curtains had been pulled back, revealing two velvet-covered seats.
“Fold ’em out if you wantin’ to sleep,” he said. “Makes one big bed. Pillows and a blanket in here.” He flipped open a small storage compartment above the seats. “Just give me a holler if you boys need some help. Dining car’s two cars that way.” He pointed to his left before he pushed past them to head back down the aisle to a wealthy looking couple.
“He didn’t believe we would tip him well.” Cassie stared down at her clothes. “I am used to much nicer attention from the porters.”
“I imagine you are. You hungry?”
“I fear I’m far too tired to eat.” She smothered another yawn with her dainty but dirty hand. “The beef jerky and bread Old Tim packed was sufficient for now—even if we ate our meager meal on the back of our horses.” She gave him an embarrassed smile, as if she’d just confessed some mortal sin. Most likely, she’d never eaten a meal that wasn’t served on a silver platter.
Ty nodded, grateful the stablemaster had given them something to chase away the hunger as they rode.
“I shall fall asleep on my feet soon,” she said. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, like someone had given her a good punch in the nose.
“You need to rest,” he said.
“So do you.”
He wanted to suggest they fold the seats into a bed now so they could both sleep, but he’d already trespassed by kissing her. “Sit down. You can lean against me.” He nodded at the heavy drapes. “Pull those shut, we can have some privacy.”
“I didn’t purchase a berth to sleep sitting up, sir.” Her gaze shifted from the seats to Ty and back to the seats. “If you would be so kind, help me unfold these.” She grabbed the high back and slammed it down.
He almost argued with her until he realized he was getting exactly what he wanted—privacy, sleep, and the chance to hold her close. In only a few minutes, they’d converted the seats into a small bed.
Cassie reached for her cap, but Ty put his hand on top of her head. “Get in first. Let me pull the curtains.”
For once, she didn’t argue. Hopping up on the bed, she crawled to the right and jerked off her boots.
He followed, turned to pull the drapes closed, and sat on the left side without even bothering to take off his boots. Opening the storage, he grabbed two pillows and a worn blanket. He shoved one of the pillows and the blanket at her before dropping the other pillow on his side of the bed. Snatching off his hat, he set it in the storage compartment, then stretched out and waited for her to get settled.
Before she could, the train lurched into motion.
Cassie ended up sprawled on top of him.
Gritting his teeth at the suggestive position, Ty had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her where she was—at least he did until she scrambled to get away from him and her knee found vulnerable targets between his legs.
“Shit!”
“Please excuse me.”
She quickly crawled to the other side of the bed and sat there, staring at him.
“What’s the problem now?” he asked.
Instead of an answer, she took the cap from her head and tossed it at the storage compartment. Her braid fell, flopping against her back. “Will you please take your boots off?”
“No.”
“But–but…they are filthy.”
“We’re both filthy. You got more dirt on your face than I got on my boots. Don’t rightly care. Lay down, Cassie girl. Get some shut-eye.”
As Ty waited for her to stop sputtering in indignation, he tried to make himself more comfortable.
Cassie shook out the blanket.
When she spread it over both their legs, he arched an eyebrow at her. He’d expected her to roll the damn thing up and put it between them so she had some separation, something to protect her virtue. Instead, she shrugged out of her coat, laid it aside and practically fell to his side. After a few minutes of her turning this way and that and then punching her pillow again and again, he finally lost his last shred of patience.
Snaking an arm around her waist, he dragged her back up against his front. “Go to sleep,” he ordered.
After only a few minutes, her body relaxed and her breathing slowed. He waited a good while to be sure that no one would bother them before he allowed himself to let his guard down. He pulled her a little closer until he could rest his chin on the crown of her head.
Yes, they were both grimy and dusty from traveling, and their clothes smelled like a stable and some lingering fishy odor from the cave. He didn’t give a shit. Judging from how quickly she’d fallen asleep, a little inconvenience didn’t bother her, either.
Cassie had ridden through the night without a single complaint, despite her weariness and how difficult it had to have been for her to leave her plush home behind. Just helping them escape from the cave had to have taken a toll on her fragile body, but they’d also asked her to sit her mare for a good ten hours.
The woman was clearly made of strong stuff despite the taint of Shay blood that ran through her veins.
Pressing his thighs up to mold against the back of hers, Ty tried not to think of just how right it felt to hold this woman close. She was a complication he wasn’t remotely ready to deal with. After all, he’d come to San Francisco with Jake to help his friend claim his birthright. The notion of finding a beautiful woman and fetching her back to Montana had never once crossed his mind.
He reminded himself she was a Shay—the granddaughter of Senator Hiram Shay, one of the most powerful men from one of the most powerful families in the whole country.
He reminded himself that he was nothing but a dirt-poor cowboy with a scrap of land his adopted father had given him and nothing more to offer a woman, especially a woman who’d known nothing but wealth.
And he reminded himself tha
t her family would come looking for her. Soon.
Despite all of that, he wanted her anyway.
Chapter Five
Cassie’s stomach refused to be ignored, rumbling and complaining loud enough she was amazed the noise didn’t wake Ty. He slept with his mouth partly open, each breath sounding like a funny little snore. Waking him from such a sound sleep seemed almost cruel, so she decided to fend for herself.
Sunlight still poured into the berth through the small dirty window, so they hadn’t slept the entire day away. She’d have to listen for the conductor to call out the next station because she’d dozed right through any of his other announcements. How far they’d traveled remained a mystery, although she now knew their ultimate destination was Missoula. From there, they would reach Ty’s hometown by horse.
As she crawled from the berth, she jostled Ty. Holding her breath, Cassie waited for him to awaken and scold her for trying to leave. Thankfully, he slept like the dead. She breathed a relieved sigh and dragged her coat and cap with her as she left, donning both once she was in the aisle.
Firmly tucking her braid under the cap, she decided to venture to the dining car to get something to eat. No one would give a dirty, disheveled guy a second glance. Just another poor young man traveling on the Northern Pacific Railroad in search of his fortune. Piles of gold. Wild women. Strong whiskey. And a good, rousing brawl, so her dime novels claimed.
She smiled at her silly little fantasy.
Used to moving around in her family’s Pullman, she quickly found her balance in the swaying car. Walking the length, she struggled to open the heavy doors separating her car from the next, then she worked her way through another long aisle of sleeping berths, most of which remained converted into seats and were filled with people chatting or watching the scenery pass by. Another set of next-to-impossible doors helped her reach the tempting aroma of the dining car.
Judging from the empty seats at the counter, she’d slept past the noon meal. A few people sat at the booths, nursing coffee or smoking cheroots. Cassie took a seat at the counter and waited for the man stirring whatever he was busy cooking to take her order.
The man sitting next to her gave her a long look, so she pulled her cap lower over her eyes. While she normally would have struck up a friendly conversation simply to pass the time, now she tried to lay low. If Ty was right—which he probably was since he had more worldly experience than she did—her disguise wouldn’t bear up to intense scrutiny.
“Can I buy you a sandwich?” the man asked. His voice was soft and quiet.
“N–no. Thank you.” Ty had warned her not to tell people she had money.
“You look like you could use a good meal. Kinda skinny and all.”
“I–I’m n–not all that hungry.” Since her stomach chose that inappropriate moment to let out a loud rumble, she wasn’t surprised when the man laughed right in her face.
“I can see that.” He gestured to the attendant. “A ham sandwich, an apple, and some coffee.”
“Tea,” Cassie quickly corrected and then scolded herself for letting the stranger order for her. What would a man do? She was supposed to be a man. Shouldn’t she grunt or something? “Uh…thanks.” Her grunt sounded more like a snort. “Sir.”
“My name’s Andrew Pearson. Call me Drew. And you are?”
Her head shot up until she met his gaze. She wrung her hands in her lap, entirely aware that she’d been a fool to not make a few plans on what to do if someone took the time to talk to her. “My…um…my name? You want my name?”
His chuckle was warm and kind, even if he was making sport of her. “That would seem to be appropriate since I just introduced myself to you.” The smile seemed a bit too knowing, and she suddenly feared Drew saw right through her disguise.
She stammered a few more seconds before he leaned in and whispered. “Haven’t thought of a boy’s name yet, eh?”
Her hand flew to her chest. “Boy’s name? I–I have no idea what—”
“It’s okay,” he softly interrupted. “I’d wager I’m the only one who notices because I’m the only one close enough to see your pretty face.”
The attendant placed a plate and a cup in front of Cassie before grabbing an apple from a basket and setting it next to the food. Despite how hungry she was, she couldn’t make herself pick up the sandwich. Fear had knotted her stomach, and all she could think of was being dragged back to San Francisco to face a horrifying future.
“Go on.” Drew patted her shoulder. “Eat.”
“But—”
“Eat.” He plucked the red apple from the counter. Pulling a knife from his coat pocket, he popped open the blade and proceeded to peel the fruit. “Go on, now. Eat.”
The sandwich was cold and stale, but it still filled her grumbling belly. She took a sip of the lukewarm tea and grimaced.
Drew chuckled and asked the attendant for sugar. The man plopped a cracked sugar bowl on the counter. She added more than she should have but enough that she could bear the taste of the bitter tea.
“Where you bound?” He sliced her apple, setting the pieces on the plate before folding his knife and tucking it back in his pocket.
She plucked a slice and chewed it, not sure whether to answer. At least having food in her mouth gave her an excuse not to immediately reply.
“I won’t bite you,” he soothed. “I’m just…concerned. Little girls shouldn’t travel alone out here. Too many people willing to take advantage.”
She straightened up so fast, her spine almost snapped. “I am not a little girl, sir.”
He shrugged at her indignation. “Hard to see exactly what you are through those filthy clothes. You don’t talk like an uneducated person, either. Is the food good?”
Cassie murmured a fibbed yes and took another bite of the sandwich. Didn’t matter that it had all the flavor of her own pathetic cooking or that the ingredients were far from fresh. Hunger was hunger, and she hadn’t eaten anything except a piece of bread and some jerky in almost two days. She didn’t even mind that Drew seemed intent upon delving into her situation. There was no way he’d ever connect the person sitting beside him with her true origins.
The attendant set a scribbled bill next to her plate, and before she could grab it, Drew snatched it away.
“I can pay for my own food, sir.”
The time the smile was more of a smirk. “Of that, I have no doubt. Oblige me this one time. Why don’t you pick up the rest of your food, and we can sit over in one of the booths and talk?”
“That would not be a good idea.”
“Oh, I think it would. Trust me, we could use a little more privacy.” He gaze shifted to the attendant, who was clearly listening in on the conversation as he turned his head to the left and leaned closer.
“B–but—” Her sputtering protest was stopped by Drew grabbing her plate and getting to his feet.
“Follow me.” He led his way to the farthest booth, put her food down, and scooted onto one of the bench seats.
Cassie picked up her tea and followed, not only because the rest of her meager meal was now sitting in front of Drew, but her curiosity was killing her. She set her cup down and took the opposite bench.
“I have to say, seeing you here and dressed like…that was quite a surprise, Miss Shay. Do you want to explain why you’re on a train, in boy’s clothing?”
She froze in fear, her hands gripping the table until her knuckles blanched. “M–my name is not Shay.”
He gave his eyes an exaggerated roll. “Oh, please. Don’t take me for a fool.”
The ruse ended. “How could you know?”
“You don’t remember me. I’m not surprised. You must have had hundreds of guests at your estate that day.”
“Remember? We’ve been introduced before?”
“Your twenty-first birthday party. I was one of the entertainers.”
Searching her memory, Cassie focused on Drew’s face. The understanding came on her in a rush. “Henry the Fifth—t
he Saint Crispin’s Day speech!”
“So you do remember.”
“You were brilliant.”
She watched him smile, really looking at his face for the first time. He appeared different than when he’d performed at her birthday party. Perhaps now that the heavy stage make-up was washed away, she could see who he truly was, not the character he’d been portraying that day.
His blue eyes held a world of intelligence that he was applying to her, judging from the slight smirk on his full lips. Drew’s blond hair was a bit longer than most men of fashion wore, brushing each shoulder, but she attributed that to him being an actor. Artsy types never followed style dictates.
A dark coat covered his muscular frame, the same type of jacket sailors wore. But the masculine clothes seemed too rugged for Drew. He was…pretty—the only word to describe a man who had such refined features. Long eyelashes. Slender fingers with manicured nails. An elegant, thin nose. She envied how red and full his lips were, cringing at how dirty and unfeminine she must appear with her ragged clothes and smudged face.
“Are you ready to tell me why you’re here?” he asked.
Another bite of the apple kept her from replying. She knew nothing about him except he was an actor. In her tenuous situation, trust needed to be guarded—if given at all.
“I know.” He put his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands. “You’re a runaway.”
Her cheeks flushed hot, and she knew she was revealing far too much in that simple reaction.
“What I need to know is…what exactly are you running away from?”
“Sir, I assure you—”
Drew waved her off with a flick of his wrist before setting his chin back on his hands. “Your assurance won’t go far with me, cutie. I need to figure out for myself exactly what you’re doing and whether I can earn your family’s benevolence by hauling your pretty little derriere right back to San Francisco.”
Cassie gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
“No?” He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Why exactly wouldn’t I? If your uncle or grandfather ever got wind that I found you—traveling all alone and dressed as a boy, mind you—and didn’t help get you home… Why, my name would be mud.”