Rugged and Relentless (8 page)

“Do you know, Evie”—Lacey eyed her as though studying something new—“this is the best you’ve looked through the entire trip. You’ve got fire in your eyes and even the color back in
your cheeks. Fury becomes you!”

The moment Lacey mentioned it, Evie’s color fled. She knew because the clammy sensation that had plagued her throughout their journey replaced the heat of her indignation. For a brief while, the incident with the stove distracted her from the motion of the train … and its unfortunate effect on her stomach.

“I do wish you hadn’t mentioned it, Lacey.” Cora’s frown made it clear she’d noticed her sister’s improved health and most likely deduced the reason for the change. “She might have not thought about the movement for a bit longer.”

“Oh dear. The stove distracted you, and I retracted you. Retracted … No, that’s not the word. Got you back on track?” Lacey’s words tripped over one another and her eyes went big, as they seemed to do whenever something upset her. “On track thinking about the train … Oh, I’m making it worse. I’ll hush.”

“The trouble isn’t with you,” Evie protested. Although, truth be told, the sudden nervous chatter made the churning worse. Extra anxiety, even someone else’s, had that effect.

But the real blame for her internal somersaults lay with the motion of the train. She’d anticipated that it would move forward when she agreed to this venture, but Evie’d convinced herself that modern locomotives would otherwise prove steady and secure. Instead, the rocking from side to side, the tilting turns, and the ever-present assortment of creaks emanating from the train joints and cars themselves churned her as though she were butter. And that wasn’t even mentioning uneven tracks, steep climbs uphill, and occasional slants downward.

Hope Falls must be a dream come true
, she’d decided early into the trip,
because we live through a nightmare to reach it!

“We’re slowing down.” Naomi’s announcement put everything else out of their minds in an instant.

Lacey’s nervousness disappeared, anticipation making her glow with delight as she peered through the grimy train car window. “Welcome to Hope Falls, ladies!”

The shrill blast of the train whistle punctuated her exclamation as though the conductor waited for Lacey’s remark. The train slowed, the slightly choppy tugging of the engine replaced by the stubborn resistance of brakes against metal rails.

Evie’s stomach jumped toward her throat at the shift. She tightened her lips as her belly threatened to lose the dry bread she’d forced herself to nibble on for breakfast. When they lurched to a stop—more accurately a long, lurching slide—it took several swallows before she trusted herself to so much as draw a breath.

That she’d bent over as far as her corset would allow escaped her attention until she felt hands smoothing her hair back and more hands rubbing her back as everyone sought to comfort her.

The corset, of course, dug into her hips in a pressing demand that she improve her posture. Immediately. She settled for straightening up as quickly as her testy stomach would allow. In a word, slowly.

How is it that Cora falls off the chair, to the floor, prostrate in a dead faint, and manages to rise easily and with some semblance of grace? Even after days of the “Evie Travels West Diminishing Diet,” I so much as lean forward and begin gasping like a landed fish!

She shook her head, rejecting both her thoughts and various offers of help. One deep breath—or at least as deep as her corset and stubborn stomach would allow—and Evie edged into the aisle. Blessedly, the floor didn’t move beneath her feet as it had so often over the past days. That made it much easier to smile as she gathered her things and prepared to exit the train car.

She’d made other decisions during the journey—one of them being that, no matter what they found in Hope Falls, she’d smile and find something to be thankful for. After all, Evie believed in living out the fruit of the Spirit … and this venture had “lesson in perseverance” written all over it.

For now, though, she needn’t look far to find the blessing in the day.
Blessings … Surely the fact I haven’t disgraced myself by losing any of my meals counts as a minor miracle!

“Ladies, before we disembark …” She paused for a moment at the stunned expressions on their faces. Then she realized everyone must expect her to be overeager to leave the train behind. Evie’s smile grew as she continued, “I think it’d be a wonderful idea to pray—thanks for thus far and seeking guidance for what lies before us.”

She felt Cora grasp one of her hands and reached out the other to Naomi, who didn’t hesitate. They all bowed their heads as Lacey made their circle complete.

“Thank You, Lord, for bringing us here safe and sound.” She gave Cora’s hand a squeeze, the signal they’d chosen long ago and never abandoned.

“Now we ask for the strength to see this through,” her little sister added, joining their prayers together. A brief pause—Evie almost completed the prayer, assuming Lacey hadn’t responded to the hand squeeze because it was unfamiliar or she didn’t want to—and then Naomi spoke.

“And the wisdom to make the most of the choices You put before us. In Your name …” They all joined in saying, “Amen.”

“I—I’m sorry. I’ve never prayed aloud before, and I didn’t know you’d want me to.” Lacey turned to Cora, still holding her hand, squeezing without noticing. “That’s what the squeezing meant, wasn’t it? That it was my turn to join in? Such a lovely idea, for all of us to pray together, and I ruined it.” Her eyes had gone big again, bright with an unmistakable sheen.

“You didn’t ruin the prayer!” Evie took Lacey’s hand away from Cora’s. “We should have explained, but even if we had, prayer is always a choice. It’s never something you do because you’re expected to. It’s between you and the Lord—and those you pray with or for, depending on the situation. Don’t worry.”

“But Naomi caught on!” A forlorn sniff followed this.

“We’re all here, together. The prayer was about and for all of us, with all of us hoping and loving and thanking. Next time—say, when we begin sifting through the responses to our ad—you can
start the circle,” Evie suggested. “We’ll make it a regular practice. All of us are in this together, after all.”

“Oh.” A tremulous smile chased away the doubt. “I’d love that. Just think … we most likely already have a slew of responses filling the postmaster general’s office, just waiting for us!” With the anticipation lighting her face, Lacey led the way out of the train car, into mountain air Evie could almost taste with each breath, now that the doors had opened.

Strange how she’d never noticed how the air hung heavy over Charleston—thick and pungent. Here, the air whispered through the tops of the trees, light and fresh and almost crisp.
If air were something I could bake, Charleston would be dense brown bread, and Hope Falls would be delicate wafers
.

This first impression lasted only so long as it took for the others to disembark. Evie was last to step off the train. Last to set foot in Hope Falls. Last to face the truth of what her new home—what her new life—would be. She looked around.

Closed her eyes. Tight.

Opened them just the tiniest sliver until she realized the only thing she could see were her own eyelashes then flat-out gawked at what lay before them.

It was a mistake to sit in the aisle seat
. The others didn’t seem as floored as she—and Evie realized why. Watching the scenery pass by only made her more aware of the motion, so she never looked. Even when they stopped or got out at a town, she’d not paid much attention to the surroundings. Hiding her misery seemed far more important.

But the others had. They’d been watching as the train carried them farther and farther into the mountains. Miles away from civilization they’d traveled, deep into the untamed wilderness until they came to that awful, lurching stop in the middle of this … breathtaking place Evie was supposed to believe they owned.

As though we could be so presumptuous as to assert ownership over anything so magnificent and powerful as this land
. The very idea
would be laughable, if it didn’t call to her.

Trees peppered mountains mixed with a sky so blue Evie could hardly believe it was the same one she’d lived under her entire life. Clouds the consistency of lovingly whipped cream floated above treetops before disappearing into the distance. The sound of a river rushed nearby, promising refreshment and the ability to make everything they’d need in the kitchen. Well, water along with what she’d brought, at least.

That made her look less to the horizon and more to her immediate surroundings. Which were … somewhat less promising. The mountainside abutting the area beside the town bore silent testament to the collapsed mine in its sparse trees and the way it appeared almost … crumpled. Dust and neglect coated the town. Buildings stood unused. No one broke the tomblike stillness with movement or sound. All in all, it looked exactly like what it was: abandoned.

Until now
. No matter what had come before, they were here now.
And we’re going to change things
. Evie lifted her chin.
No matter what anyone thinks
.

“I think you’re looking in the wrong place, mister.” The barkeep swirled a stained rag in a grubby mug. “Looking for any one man in a place like Durango is like trying to find a particular tick on the hide of a mangy stray. Too many of the same kind to try and tell ‘em apart. You won’t have anything to show for it.” He gave a significant pause. “Neither would I.”

“I appreciate you taking the time to share your observations.” Jake kept his expression impassive, reached into his pocket, and pulled out more than his drink was worth. He slid it across the bar, the smooth glide of gold the most eloquent speech he could give in a mining town.
Could have guessed that, but no use throwing money away
.

“Glad to hear it.” The money vanished in an instant, along
with the man’s dismissive manner. “Not everyone recognizes the …
value
… of what I can tell them. Never know what you might see or hear in a place like this, if you know what I mean.”

Jake gave a nod in answer, patting his pocket with wordless promise. “Brown hair and eyes, probably better dressed than most in these parts.” He kept his voice low. “Goes by the name of—”

The barkeep plunked down the mug he’d been wiping with such force, a crack splintered its way up the side. A warning. “Funny thing about those observations, stranger. They’re best received at night, when men are tired and relaxing. Otherwise it might make some folks uncomfortable, you see, to take a good hard look around and realize others can do the same thing.”

“I understand.”
I understand the trail could go cold by the time you work up enough nerve to spill your guts
. “But I’m short on time. Just point me in the direction—”

“Come back tonight, when you can enjoy yourself.” His voice sounded too hearty, too loud.

The barkeep had outmaneuvered Jake. If he stayed, it’d look suspicious. More importantly, he’d never get any information from the man who seemed able to provide it. Left with no other option, Jake tipped his hat and sauntered out into the street. If anyone read frustration in the tense line of his jaw or shoulders, he’d ascribe it to a poor haul in the mines.

Half a day would be unacceptable if Jake had anything to say about it. Losing even an hour chafed. But Dad’s business lessons held true, and this afternoon Jake would employ his least favorite: tactical retreat. His old man called it diplomacy, but Jake always thought of it in terms of battle. Let his father hide behind suits and smiles, handshakes and shams over coffee or lunches. Better to be honest about things from the start to his way of thinking. Business, full of strategies, negotiations, and victories, made for a battlefield of brains instead of brawn.

Defeat wasn’t an option. “Failure,” as Dad called it, would not be acknowledged. He didn’t fail, didn’t invest in failing ventures,
and most important, he didn’t raise “failures” in his sons. To the world, Montgomery Granger upheld that. The three of them ran an extremely successful lumber business, held their heads high in society, and you’d best believe any Granger got whatever he put his mind to. Nothing less would ever be acknowledged, and nothing more need be said.

That is, until Edward went traveling after a supply contract for a new shipping company, and word of his death came to them a solid month after the fact. Dad had something to say to that. “No son of mine got himself killed over a crooked poker game.” With that, he turned his back on his weeping wife, leaving Jake to comfort his mother.

His mother collected herself enough for a few choice words of her own. “It’s a lie. We don’t repeat lies.” Jake held his tongue about his mother’s penchant for gossip as she thrust the letter at him. “Burn it—make it disappear. This was not our Edward.”

Jake took the paper but hadn’t destroyed it. At the time, he’d foolishly believed his parents to be in denial over Edward’s death, outraged over the implications in the letter. In time, they’d acknowledge the death of their golden boy.

During that time, Jake would investigate the scurrilous accusations against his brother. No one who knew Edward would believe for an instant he would cheat at cards, much less move to pull his gun on the man he swindled.