Lauri Robinson - Inheriting a Bride

Swallowing a sudden attack of sadness, wishing Grandpa was here so she could ask him, Kit squared her shoulders. Both he and Grandma had been tight-lipped about Colorado. She’d only recognized the name Black Hawk because Grandma Katie had let it slip one time. Was that because they didn’t want anyone to know how wealthy they were? How wealthy Kit now was? Grandma always said it was best for women not to know their worth, for it often drew uncouth and undesirable men. Actually, in Grandma’s eyes everything drew men, therefore Kit had never been allowed to do anything.

Her gaze landed on the old Indian sitting on the front porch of the mercantile. The man waved, and she fluttered a hand his way and then stepped back so a wagon hid her from other onlookers. Running Bear had confirmed that Clay lived in Nevadaville, and Sam as well. Naturally, it had cost her another package of chewing gum.

The traffic continued to flow by without the slightest break for her to cross the street. Another thought made her frown. Who was Miss Clarice and what was a society house? Kit’s heart skipped a few beats. Could it be a house of ill repute? Certainly Grandpa hadn’t owned one of those. He could have visited one, though, and that could be how Sam came to be. It was a disquieting thought, but over the past several months she’d thought of that possibility more than once—for ultimately, there were few other answers. Sam had to be Grandpa’s son. Her uncle. And she wasn’t leaving here until she met him, scandal be damned.

The curse had her sending up a silent plea for forgiveness—but if she had family, she had a right to know. More than that, she needed to know. She hated the feeling of being totally alone in the world.

The train whistle sounded, indicating that the locomotive pulling a passenger car, two freight cars and a small green caboose would soon leave the station and head for Nevadaville without her.

Kit turned, eyed the cars closely, thoughtfully, and then scanned the area for Mr. Green. The little booth was empty. Convinced her sudden idea was a good one, she hitched up her skirt and hurried past the passenger car, as well as the wooden freight cars. Steam shot out from under the wheels, forming a cloud around her as the whistle sounded again. It made her jump, but she kept her nerve.

The freight conductor, the one who sat in the little square pilothouse on top of the last car, was already there, looking over the tops of the cars and paying no attention to the ground below. Kit hurried forward, grabbing the metal sidebar and pulling herself onto the small platform at the very back of the train as the wheels creaked and shuddered. She tucked her skirt between her legs to climb over the rail, and then dashed through the doorway. Heart pounding, she glanced out the window as she closed the door, to assure no one had witnessed her unfashionable boarding.

Success made her smile, but moments later, when the little caboose shook as the wheels started to rumble, memories of her last train ride flashed in her mind. Her grin faded and a bubble formed in her throat. Pressing both hands over her eyes, she moaned, “Oh, no.”

Clay caught the rail of the caboose at a run and pulled himself onto the little platform. He paused, peering through the window, as his fingers grasped the door. She was sitting on the bench, but had her head hanging between her knees. He’d been watching, had seen her arguing with Reggie Green, and wasn’t surprised when she’d sneaked on board, nor was he surprised that she stayed down, not wanting anyone to notice.

Katherine Ackerman was one determined woman.

His hand went to his front pocket, where the medicine bag he’d bought from Running Bear was tucked. This morning, after leaving Sam’s cave, Clay had taken the early train to Black Hawk, claiming he needed to oversee the delivery of the new boiler, whereas in reality, though he barely admitted it to himself, he wanted to see if she had left. And again, not something he was overly willing to divulge, he was glad she hadn’t. Though he still wouldn’t let her get near Sam.

The train picked up speed, chugging and clanging, and the clatter disguised the sound of the door opening. Once inside, Clay closed the door, half wondering what to do next. Anger at how she’d scampered aboard was nonexistent. A hint of admiration was playing about inside him instead.

Small as it was, the caboose hosted only a tiny wood stove near the back wall and two long benches along the sides. The entire car swung left and right, rattling and shaking as the train picked up momentum.

Katherine let out a little yelp and one hand moved to the bench beside her knee, grasping tightly. He sat on the seat opposite her, their knees almost touching across the tiny aisle. Clay found himself wishing he could see more than the top of the little blue-and-white hat covering those glorious golden waves that had fluttered around her face and shoulders back on the mountainside. It was only four miles to Central City, and then another three to Nevadaville, but the train had to wind around the mountain to get there, making the ride a bit longer. The way she quivered said her nerves were already getting the best of her. Perplexing, considering the trail she’d traversed on horseback.

Maybe it was for show. Maybe she knew he was sitting across from her, and this was just another part of her act.

A clatter and clang had her jolting, and then the great clunking and banging of the wheels making a sharp turn had her snapping her head up. Clay held in a flinch at her paleness. No one was that good an actress, and his heart thudded in response. She was a beauty, no man could deny that—even with a tint of seasick-green covering her cheeks.

As if not sure what they saw, the big brown eyes staring at him closed for a moment and then opened again.

“Miss Ackerman,” he said in greeting.

Her groan was accompanied with a slow and distraught headshake as she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’d forgotten,” she whispered.

Plenty of people grew sick riding the train up the mountain. The motion and altitude took some getting used to. Her head once again lowered to hang over her knees. Clay leaned across the small space, drawing back a hand moments before it could touch her knee. “Forgotten what?”

“How treacherous these train rides are.”

Coupling the fear of heights he’d sensed back on the trail with the train ride, he felt compassion opening up inside him. With little thought, he moved across the aisle and sat down next to her. Resting a hand in the middle of her back, he assured her, “You’re safe.”

She shook her head. “If one of these cars came loose we’d plunge to the bottom of the mountain and never be found.”

Clay glanced over his shoulder, out the window to where the houses, commercial buildings, even people moving about in Black Hawk looked like a miniature world. Others had made the same statement she just had, and he’d laughed it off, but the shakiness of her voice indicated real fear. Protectiveness sprang up inside him. “That won’t happen,” he answered. “You have my word on it.”

“How could you stop it?”

She had yet to lift her head, and beneath his fingers her body trembled. There was something about this woman that got to him, and not just her unease right now. From the moment they’d met he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, almost as if she’d had the key and opened that deeply guarded compartment inside him he’d long ago secured away.

Exposing the things long hidden there was not something he was prepared to do, so he blocked the thought from his mind and dug in one pocket. “I have something for you,” he said.

“I know. A ticket to Boston.”

Her groan made him chuckle. “No, Mr. Green still has that.”

Opening one eye, she cast a wary gaze toward Clay, head still down, face still white.

He dangled the medicine bag by the leather strap.

A faint, wobbly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Inching upward, she trapped his hand on her back between her and the wall. “My amulet,” she whispered. “How’d you—”

“It’s not the same one you lost. But it’s similar.” He leaned closer and whispered, “This one doesn’t stink.”

As she let out an adorable half gasp, half giggle, he eased the leather strap over her head, careful of the little hat and the pins holding her thick curls in place. “There, now you’re safe. I apologize for making you lose the other one.”

A hint of color appeared on her cheeks as she fingered the bag gently. “Thank you.”

The train rounded the hill, and the sound of the whistle announcing the upcoming depot prevented him from responding. Which was all right, since he had no idea what to say. The sincerity in her voice had sucker punched his heart.

Biting her bottom lip, she closed her eyes again as the train slowed to a crawl near the big drum of water towering over the tracks, marking Central City.

He didn’t have a moment to speak then, either, because the door in the center of the roof opened and brown boots caught the first rung of the ladder.

Beneath Clay’s fingers, Katherine’s trembling increased, and he rubbed her back in a wide circle.

“What—” Looking dumbfounded, Ty Reins, dressed in his gray-and-white-striped bib overalls and matching hat, glanced around the small area. “Clay, I didn’t know you were riding in here.”

“It’s not as crowded as the passenger car,” he answered.

The way Katherine’s eyes snapped open, and the shock on her face, said she knew he’d just covered up the fact she’d sneaked on board, and the bashful fall of her lashes had his blood moving a bit faster.

Clay, about to introduce the two, bit his tongue as she asked the man, “What do you do up there?”

“Keep a lookout for falling rocks and other things that could derail the train,” Ty responded.

Clay groaned inwardly. It was what the man did, but the way Ty had said it was sure to increase her fears. “Which rarely happens,” Clay said, rubbing her back again. The touch of velvet beneath his fingers, not to mention the heat of her body, was rather addictive.

Ty chuckled. “That’s right. It rarely happens. Nothing to worry about, miss.”

She nodded, but Clay sensed it was out of obligation, not belief.

“We’ll only be here a few minutes,” he assured her.

The conductor pointed toward the little overhead door. “You want to ride in the pilothouse? You can see forever up there.”

Clay wanted to shake the man.

“No. No, thank you,” Katherine said nervously. “The caboose is just fine.” She tugged at the high, ruffled neckline of her white silk blouse. “D-down here. Down here is just fine.”

“All right,” Ty said, shrugging his massive shoulders and giving Clay a nod that said he’d tried. “We’ll be heading out in another minute or two. Just had to drop off the mail here in Central.”

“Thanks, Ty,” Clay said, nodding toward the pilothouse door.

Right on cue the screeching whistle blew, and the man swung around to grasp the ladder again.

“How long will it take us to get to Nevadaville?” Katherine asked in a shaky whisper.

“It’s only a couple of miles,” Clay answered, as an overwhelming urge to grasp her waist and pull her closer to his side had his fingers moving over the blue velvet of her dress again.

“Course, we gotta go all the way around before we stop,” Ty added, with one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.

“Around?” she asked.

“Yeah. Nevadaville is the end of the line. The track makes a loop at the top of the mountain so we’re headed back in the right direction.”