Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (25 page)

The moment the train began to accelerate, however, it slowed to a halt, the wheels squealing in protest against the iron rails.

“Wake up, Abel.” A woman of perhaps thirty years, seated up front and facing the rest of the car, shook her sleeping husband. “Something's wrong.” Abel slept on, clearly unconcerned, his head resting back against the front wall, arms crossed, legs stretched out and a wide-brimmed hat pulled over his face.

Beryl grasped Rosamond's arm. “Why are we stopping?”

“Shh. There, there.” She patted Beryl's hand. “I'm sure it's fine. Probably something on the tracks. The men will see to it.”
Lord, please let it be something as simple as that.

Instead, gunshots erupted by the engine. Gasping, Beryl seized Rosamond's forearm in a vise grip. The coach's front door burst open, and three armed men rushed in. Dressed in rough coats and dusty trousers, with bandannas over the lower halves of their faces, they waved pistols. Outside, other men on horseback held the engineer and fireman at gunpoint. Rosamond couldn't tell how many were in the gang. She prayed no one would be injured, especially Beryl. She'd almost died in that bank robbery. Indeed, her confidence and fearlessness died that day.

“Hand over your money and gold.” The leader jammed the barrel of his gun under the nose of an old man. “Gimme your valuables.”

The poor man shook too violently to obey, so the outlaw shoved him down on the seat and dug into his victim's coat pocket, removing a wad of cash secured in a monogrammed money clip.

Another outlaw held out a brown canvas sack as if taking up a church offering. The third man helped himself to the sleeping man's wallet and the wife's wedding band and moved down the aisle.

At the front of the car, the sleeping husband awoke and stealthily rose up, tall and broad-shouldered, behind the last outlaw, gun in hand. Rosamond couldn't let him fight these outlaws alone. She pried Beryl's hands from her arm and bent down to her tapestry satchel. If she was careful, the outlaws would think she was retrieving valuables. Instead, she wrapped her hand around the handle of her Colt .45 revolver and tucked it into the folds of her skirt. She'd made sure it was loaded before they left the Walsenburg hotel this morning. Now, should she shoot the gun from the closest outlaw's hand or wait to see what the man up front did? With Beryl shaking and terrified, Rosamond couldn't decide.

“I say, what a thrilling adventure. A real Wild West holdup, what?” The dark-haired Englishman grinned as the outlaws came closer. “Did you plan it for our amusement?”

Rosamond watched him grip his ebony cane close to his side. With his other hand, he reached into his black frock coat, pulled out an engraved gold watch and swung it on its fob. “Do let me play. Come along, gentlemen, and take the pretty timepiece.” Was he crazy or incredibly brave?

“Pip, pip, old man, such a lark.” The blond Englishman laughed, but like his friend, his posture indicated he was ready for a fight. Rosamond's opinion of both men rose several notches. Dandies they were. Sissies they were not.

“What have we here?” The outlaw leader bent down and leered into Rosamond's face, his whiskey breath causing her to recoil in disgust. “A couple of pretty misses. Say, boys, what say we take them along—”

Crack!
A flash of black and gold whizzed past her face as the dark-haired Englishman's cane slammed down on the outlaw's gun hand, knocking his weapon to the floor. An upward thrust of the cane bloodied the man's nose, and a third downward strike on his head sent him sprawling into the aisle. The Englishman placed one foot in the center of the man's back and held him in place.

“Easy does it.” Up front, the tall man held his cocked gun at the head of the third outlaw, who dropped his revolver.

The second outlaw released the brown bag and raised his gun to shoot the Englishman. Rosamond stood and aimed her cocked Colt at his ugly face. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

With a sneer, the outlaw turned his gun toward her, but the blond man used his cane to strike a hard blow to his forearm. Like his friend, he finished the job with two more whacks to the face and head.

The eight male passengers ordered the outlaws to the front seats and stood watch, weapons at the ready. The six ladies redistributed the valuables to their rightful owners.

“I'll check outside.” The tall man exited cautiously. Several shots were fired. Then quiet came over the scene.

Soon the fireman, sooty from head to toe from his job of stoking the engine with coal, entered the coach. “Howdy, folks. I see y'all have these three taken care of. The rest of the gang lit out fast when that lawman came out. No harm's been done except to the train's schedule. We'll make it up on the down side of the pass, so y'all be sure to hang on tight.” His levity stirred camaraderie amongst the travelers, strangers before, but momentarily friends. “That there lawman'll round up these three shortly and keep 'em in the freight car till we get to Alamosa.”

So the tall passenger was a lawman. Maybe he was headed for Esperanza. Father had planned to hire a sheriff after the bank robbery. Rosamond hoped this man was the one. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that none of the passengers were harmed.

Beside her, Beryl hugged her middle, the site of her wound, and whimpered softly.

Putting away her gun, Rosamond wrapped her arms around her friend. “Shh. It's all right. No one's hurt.”

Beryl nodded, but her eyes glazed over as if she weren't truly aware of her surroundings.

As much as Rosamond wanted to cry, she forbade herself to let go of her emotions. Someone indeed had been hurt: her sweet, fragile friend. Maybe she'd been wrong to insist that Beryl return to Colorado.

* * *

From the way Percy chatted cheerily with the other men as they guarded the miscreants, Garrick could see he'd enjoyed the whole affair. Garrick himself found the entire incident thrilling. Not that he'd wish to repeat it, of course. Having a gun pointed at one's heart did odd things to a man's nerves, proving what he'd always believed about the American West. This was an uncivilized land and would remain so. A cultured nobleman like Uncle and his aristocratic friends wouldn't enjoy their holidays here. The hotel Garrick had been sent to build—one after the English tradition—may be all well and good out in the middle of nowhere, but how would people travel there safely? And what would they do once they arrived?

Still, the courage of the other passengers impressed him, especially the lovely brunette. He'd been appalled to see her using a weapon but was fascinated by her composure, her courage. He'd never known an English lady who possessed such poise in the face of deadly danger. Unfortunately, her friend didn't fare as well. Even now, the brunette held the trembling redhead in a comforting embrace.

Percy also noticed them. “Should I inquire as to whether they need anything?”

Garrick hesitated. If his cousin spoke to the distressed lady, friendship might follow, especially if Esperanza was her destination. Yet he couldn't deny his own interest in speaking to her brave companion. “Yes, do ask.”

Percy started toward them. The brunette looked up and shook her head, fire sparking in her eyes. Percy obeyed her unspoken order. What a woman! Garrick would think twice before challenging her about anything. Ever. She reminded him of his childhood governess, a formidable woman who'd never taken any nonsense from him, and with whom he'd never won a conflict. Perhaps this was another reason not to meet this lady. Clearly, she belonged to this land. He did not.

Even that awareness didn't douse his fascination with her. Yesterday he'd tried to devise a proper way to meet her, but could not. He'd decided the matter would run the usual disappointing course of his life. As the poet wrote, they were ships passing in the night. “Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.” For an American, Longfellow wrote quite eloquently on the matter. Yet here they were on the same train for a second day. Did that portend an improvement in his life journey? No, he mustn't even consider it. She was an
American
!

The lawman took charge of the three outlaws, securing them in the freight car. With the passengers seated again, the train chugged up the mountain pass toward Garrick's future, one he had no heart for, but the one Uncle had set before him. Somehow he must make a success of it, not only for Helena but for his own self-respect.

“I say,” Percy whispered. “I believe the Lord has it all planned. Despite the ladies' rebuff a moment ago, we shall marry them before the end of summer.” He cocked one blond eyebrow.

“Are you mad?” Garrick whispered back. “It's one thing to admire a pretty girl, another thing entirely to marry her.” As if he could ever afford to marry.

“Wait and see.” Percy jostled Garrick playfully. “By the end of summer.”

He shook his head. Arguments could never douse Percy's optimism. If he did meet the pretty redhead, Garrick must ensure no marriage took place. Such an alliance would never be accepted among their acquaintances in England. Thus, Garrick must forgo meeting the lovely brunette, for no future lay in America for either him or Percy.

“I've a plan.” Percy spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “When we arrive in Esperanza, we'll arrange our exit in time to hand the ladies down from the train.”

“But—” Garrick stopped. Although Percy was on holiday, he himself must attend to business. The manner in which he emerged from the train would either impress or disappoint Colonel Northam. He intended to make a good impression. Perhaps Uncle's business partner would approve of his showing courtesy to the young ladies. “Yes, of course.”

Percy's face beamed like a schoolboy's in the thrall of his first infatuation. Garrick's stomach churned.

* * *

Rosamond hadn't meant to be rude to the Englishmen, not after they'd shown such courage. She should apologize to them. But Beryl needed help to calm down before they arrived home. This hysteria wouldn't be accepted by her stoic family, nor did strangers need to get involved.

“Shh.” She wrapped a traveling blanket around Beryl's shoulders. “Everything's all right. The Lord protected us. Did you see how all the passengers made short work of those bumbling outlaws?” She laughed softly.

In fact the dark-haired Englishman had been particularly brave to entice the outlaws with his exquisite gold watch. He'd obviously planned to subdue them with that fine ebony cane with the hound-shaped gold head. That took courage. The watch, the stylish cane and his finely tailored suit marked him as a man of wealth. Why would such a man travel to Colorado? She'd probably never know.

“Cheer up.” She hugged Beryl again as the air seeping into the car turned frigid. “Remember to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Inhaling, Beryl nodded. Her eyes lost focus, and she seemed dizzy. “Oh, my.”

“Lean your head on my shoulder.” Rosamond spoke in a soothing tone. “It's the altitude. I'm a bit dizzy myself. We'll get used to it again.” After living at sea level for several years, they faced the same challenge as any newcomer to the 7,600-foot high altitude of the San Luis Valley. In time, they'd become accustomed to the thinner air.

“Rosamond, how will I keep my family from finding out?” Beryl didn't need to explain. They'd often discussed this, usually after some loud noise sent her into a fit of trembling. A textbook slamming to the floor. A plate shattered in the dining room. Sometimes even the chime of the academy's bell-tower clock.

“You must tell your mother about your fears.” Like her four other daughters, Mabel Eberly was a feisty, resilient woman who'd gained her strength after moving west. Surely she'd know how to help her middle daughter.

Beryl shook her head. “I can't. She won't understand. Promise me you won't tell anyone.”

With a reluctant nod, Rosamond exhaled crossly. The evil men who'd shot Beryl now languished in the Canon City prison with twenty-five to thirty-year sentences. They should count themselves blessed. If she'd died, they'd have been hanged. Rosamond prayed they'd never be set free. Not after they'd destroyed Beryl's peace and confidence.

While they ate their boxed dinners, the train descended into the San Luis Valley. Warmer air now streamed into the car as the engineer made up for lost time. Wind from the south swept across the Valley floor, sending a gauzy black curtain of smoke past the window. After a short stop in Alamosa, where the lawman turned the outlaws over to the local sheriff, the train sped over the tracks toward Esperanza.

She sometimes heard the Englishmen talking but couldn't distinguish their words over the rumble of the train. Maybe they'd like to see the sand dunes at the foot of Mount Herard. She doubted such a natural wonder existed in their country. Yet from those first snobbish words she'd heard the dark-haired man say in the Denver station, she assumed he wouldn't appreciate any of the wonders of America.

Rosamond's heart began to beat in time with the clatter of the iron wheels on the track. Her parents would be waiting at the Esperanza station, maybe one or two of her brothers, as well. She couldn't wait to see everyone, including Rand's bride of just over a year, her own former roommate.

When she and her parents had traveled to Boston for Mother's health and to enroll Rosamond in the academy, they'd become very fond of sweet Marybeth O'Brien. Certain she was the perfect bride for Rosamond's second brother, her parents had arranged the marriage. Now they had a baby boy, cousin to her oldest brother Nate's boy and girl, darling children to carry on the Northam legacy.

Rosamond felt a familiar pang. She'd love to be a mother, but no husband would permit his wife to teach other people's children and neglect her own. Certain of her calling from the Lord, she must choose to regard her students as her intellectual offspring.