CHAPTER 1
April 1918
Lily Mae, don’t you rush.
Lily drew back the bolt on the kitchen door in slow, silent increments, as dread squeezed the air from her lungs. Any small scrape of the metal might announce her departure, and that just couldn’t happen. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Elias emerge from the shadows, catching her alone in the night, or for one of his parents to seize her and shove her back toward the stairway to her room. Descending without the floorboards squeaking had taken effort enough.
No mistakes now. There. The latch was free. With one more glimpse behind, she grasped the knob in both hands and turned it ever so slowly. She held her breath. The whisper of a click made her heart thud so loudly that she nearly gasped. She stiffened, but the house remained still. Only the steady ticking of the clock on the landing marked its regular nightly rhythm. It had read ten after four when Lily crept past.
Pressing on, she picked up her tatty carpetbag and slipped through the doorway onto the front porch. Then she set the bag down again and closed the door as painstakingly as she’d opened it. When the catch caught with nary a sound, Lily finally took a full breath. Wrenching up her bag again, she tiptoed down the two worn steps to the flat ground. Hurry!
Elias’ room was on the back side of the house. Surely he’d not look out the window and see. She hoped he was snoring deeply. But Mr. and Ma Fletcher slept above the front of the house right atop the kitchen. Mr. Fletcher usually slept like a log after working outdoors all day, but his missus stirred as easily as a candle’s flame. Lily dared not waste a single
Naomi Musch
moment. She hastened off into the night.
Although the Milky Way splashed a glittering stream across the vast Wyoming sky, darkness clung so thickly down below that Lily could hardly see her feet beneath her. Her heart kept on a-hammering as she shuffle-ran to the edge of the yard and onto the lane. With one hand clamping her hat in place, she trotted now over the memorized ground. Only once did she stumble over a rut, then she slowed to a fast stride, counting the minutes that fell behind. She knew exactly how long it would take her to reach the train station at Rock Springs. She’d practiced timing her hike each time Ma Fletcher sent her to town to fetch or deliver something, each time wondering if she’d ever find the courage to run. Well, as of two days ago, she’d found courage all right. Lord, help her, this would be the very last time she’d ever make this trek again for the rest of her life.
Please, God. Help me get to the train on time. Please don’t let Ma Fletcher or any of the children wake up and find I’ve gone farther than the creek. Not yet. There would be a train at six twenty. The family would arouse by five thirty. Elias would grumble about breakfast not being ready. Ma Fletcher would grouch about having to boil coffee for the men, because that was Lily’s first job of the morning. Lily could almost hear the woman screech her name, calling her to task. When Lily didn’t respond, Ma Fletcher would suspect she’d gone to the outhouse.
Jenny would wake up soon after and expect that Lily was downstairs in the kitchen. She’d slip a work dress over her chemise and shuffle down to help, only Lily wouldn’t be there. Then, when Lily didn’t turn up by the time the grease was melting in the frying pan, they’d all start to wonder where she’d gotten to. They’d realize she was already awake and up. . .somewhere. But if Lily was lucky, time would pass before they counted her absent completely. Hopefully, they’d think she’d gone on one of her early-morning “get-outs.” Lily had begun the habit of early morning strolls to the coulee two or three times a week, back about the time the snow first started to melt, back when the notion about running off hadn’t yet turned urgent. She always returned from her dawn-breaking walks in time to start preparing breakfast so Ma Fletcher didn’t scold. Lily purposely cut the time close once or twice, just so that if the day came that she really left, she wouldn’t be missed right off. She hoped those past get-outs had planted a pattern in their minds. It was just one small
thing to throw them off and keep them from coming to find her before the train could whisk her away.
Lily nearly tripped once more when a coyote yipped and another joined in, seeming much too near, but she managed to stay on the road. Every sound, every slam of her heart in her chest, every rustle in the grass tightened her muscles and urged her on. She was puffing hard for breath by the time she reached the edge of town an hour later. Now a gray light edged the eastern horizon. Dark shadows of square roof lines guided the way before her. Lily paused a block from the train station and allowed her pulse to slow. Sweat tickled her hairline under her hat. So far, so good, but the Fletchers could already be looking for her if Jenny had wakened and saw she was gone.
I’m nearly there now. She squinted into the haziness behind. There was no sign of anyone on the road as far as she could tell.
The station door was locked. She wiggled the knob and peered through the dark, dusty glass. It was impossible to read the clock inside above the clerk’s window. It must be five thirty or just past. That seemed right. Dawn was breaking, and the station would open soon.
Lily took a seat on a platform bench to wait and watch the road while the last stars faded. Pretty soon a beam of sunlight glinted on a pair of second-story windowpanes down the dusty street. She settled her carpetbag beside her and tucked loose strands of hair back into her braided bun. She adjusted her hat and smoothed the handmade skirt she’d sewn from leftover fabric after stitching dresses for Ma Fletcher and her girls. It might only be made of scraps of blue calico, but it was sewn with careful stitching, and it fit her well.
Lily lurched forward at the deep sound of a humming voice, only to see a slight, older gentleman with a thick white mustache stepping around the corner. He stopped humming when he saw her sitting there. “Someone is early.”
She plastered on a friendly smile, her cheeks tight but hopefully no longer flushed from her long run. “Yes. I am a bit. Better early than late, isn’t that right?” She brightened her tone to not sound afraid, though the clamor inside her threatened to rear up again.
He pulled out a long key and fit it into the lock on the door. “I’ll be opening up now. You might as well come in.” She followed him inside and glanced around the small lobby as the man moved through another door.
In a moment, light spilled out through the ticket window, but Lily hung back, trying not to seem anxious. Six o’clock. Twelve-year-old Herbie and nine-year-old Ann would be wandering around the ranch hollering for her. Ma Fletcher would be growing cross. Jenny, fourteen now and knowing her place, would be trying to help. Not Elias though. He might have an inkling that she’d gone, because he’d know why. Wouldn’t he? Or was his brain that thick?
The ticket man put on a pair of spectacles and glanced at her through the window’s bars. “Now, how can I help you?”
“I’d like a ticket for the 6:20.”
“The whole way?”
“How far is that?”
“There are stops all the way to Omaha.”
Lily nodded. “Yes, all the way. Can I switch to another eastbound train when I get there?”
He raised one brow in a brief, questioning glance, then cleared his throat and opened a drawer. “You can go anywhere you want by train nowadays, young lady.” He laid the required ticket on the counter and named the cost, which was higher than she’d hoped. But she’d paid attention to Pa Fletcher’s talk at the dinner table, mentioning now and then how expenses had risen since the war.
Lily opened her handbag and removed some bills. Every cent was precious. She had saved for a long time. Years and years, in fact. Since way before she ever thought she’d truly leave. One thing she was thankful for was that Ma Fletcher didn’t begrudge her doing a little sewing on the side for spending money. Lily was a good seamstress, and as long as she kept the Fletchers’ household in decent apparel and their everyday things mended, they didn’t care if she sat up by the light of the oil lamp sewing for someone else. That way they didn’t have to pay expenses for Lily’s own clothes out of pocket. Lily was expected to make her own.
She was supposed to turn most of her hard-earned cash over to Ma Fletcher, of course. Ma Fletcher sometimes said that Lily’s food costs alone were worth more than her work was—which Lily didn’t believe for a minute. Lily always squirreled a tiny bit of her earnings away—as much as she dared. Maud Fletcher didn’t know about the money Agnes Spool had just paid her last week for completing her daughter’s wedding trousseau. But she had done that work completely on her own time, mostly late at
night while still rising early to do her chores. She’d earned every last cent, and as far as Maud knew, that money from Mrs. Spool hadn’t been paid yet. She’d be livid once she learned about it, especially when she realized that it was enough to send Lily straight to the train station.
She passed the amount to the ticket master just as a telephone jangled. Lily’s nerves leaped, but it couldn’t be the Fletchers. They didn’t have a telephone out on the ranch, and the nearest one was here in town. She forced another smile and urged herself to remain calm as she picked up the ticket and moved away with her bag.
The door opened twice more in the next ten minutes as other folk arrived and purchased tickets. Both times, Lily’s blood drained to her feet in a rush until she was sure it wasn’t Mr. Fletcher or Elias. Then the clerk stepped out to announce that the train was running behind schedule and wouldn’t arrive until six forty.
Twenty extra minutes! Her middle tightened in panic. “May I ask why?” She stopped the man with her question.
“There’s a war on, miss. The federal government controls the railroads now. You can always write and ask them about their priorities.”
Abashed, she clenched her lips together and nodded. As she turned her face away, a large man who sat on a chair opposite her gave her an understanding smile. Lily stood. “It looks like a fine morning. I suppose I’ll just wait outside.”
The sun had fully risen and glowed golden on the weathered and whitewashed buildings of the town. Standing on the platform outside, an April breeze fanned her cheeks. She’d cooled down from her long walk and now was glad for her coat. She took a deep breath that stretched out her rib cage and told herself once again that she would make it all right. Elias wouldn’t catch her. Freedom was so very close. Sitting again on the same bench as before, Lily spent the next half hour watching the tracks, tuning her ear for the sound of a train’s whistle, and peering up the street for any sign of one of the Fletchers.
The townsfolk began to stir. A door opened here and closed there. A voice echoed in the distance and a dog barked. An automobile wound its way up the mud-packed road, disturbing the morning further. The ring of a hammer resounded. Wagon wheels creaked somewhere, and Lily watched anxiously to be certain it wasn’t Elias or his father coming for her. Finally, a distant rumble sounded on the tracks. The shrill call of a
Naomi Musch
whistle pierced the sky. Lily’s nerves buzzed. Thank You, God. Thank You. Please don’t let there be any more delay.
She stood while the train squealed to a stop. Steam shot up past the platform, and in a few more moments, several passengers disembarked. No one she knew, thank heaven. Then she moved forward behind the few other ticket holders preparing to board. Suddenly it was Lily’s turn, and memories she hadn’t prepared for washed over her. Memories from when she’d come here as a child.
“May I take your bag, miss?”
She shook her head at the porter. “Can’t I keep it with me?”
He gave a nod. “If you like.”
How much shorter the height of each step seemed now as she took them—one, two, three.
She entered the train car’s vestibule through one narrow door and then another. The smells inside the coach were different too. The seats, covered in dark green upholstery, seemed almost luxurious. She moved along until she found a seat near the middle of the car, and she slid in beside a window, tucking her carpetbag across her lap and snugly beneath her arms. She wasn’t ready to release it yet. That much hadn’t changed in a decade’s time, and neither had the bag.
She stared about, hardly able to believe she was here now. She couldn’t see a clock anywhere, and it seemed as though the minutes moved far too slowly, until at last the conductor shouted out the final call to board. The whistle blew again, a short burst followed by another longer one. Lily clutched her bag. Excitement warred with tension until she thought she might burst. She tore her gaze from the front of the train car for one final look out the window where another flush of steam billowed out, clouding her vision.
And then as it cleared, she really did see what she feared. Elias Fletcher rode into town on his red gelding, the young man’s tall, thick body heavy in the saddle, his hat pulled down close to his roving eyes. His head pivoted as he looked this way and that, and Lilly shrunk back from the window. Her blood began to scream, and she felt the urge to stand up and run to the back of the train. But that wouldn’t help. Only getting out of town faster would help, before he could get close enough to see through the windows. What if he could stop the train?
Her chest rose and fell, and when the train whistle shrieked again,
she shrank down in her seat. “Heeeere! She’s heeere!” it seemed to cry. Lily peeked over the window ledge, her hands white-knuckled around the handle of her bag. Elias was coming toward the station. The first choo of the train vibrated through her core. It was too late now. Let it be too late now! The train whistle screeched one final farewell. Then the roll of the wheels trembled beneath her.
She rose a little higher and watched him. His roving gaze kept searching, but it didn’t come to her. “You can’t catch me now, Elias Fletcher,” she whispered, her breath fogging the glass.
Choo, choo, choo . . .choo. . .choo. . . The train moved faster, pulling her away and leaving Elias behind.
Lily leaned back. One by one, the tight bands of fear loosed from around each rib, sending her body into a long, drawn-out shudder of relief. She eased her clutch on the carpetbag and sat a little straighter. Then she peered out again. She watched the train depot fall behind and a quizzical Elias growing smaller as he stared toward it. There was a lift to his chin. She knew that lift, even at a distance. He was wondering. Even as the train curved away and she could no longer see him, she pictured the squint of his weaselly eyes as he pondered the train now gliding away with greater speed.
He hadn’t seen her. That she was sure of. If he had, he’d be thundering after the train this minute. Yet he might be considering whether or not she might be on board. He would probably learn the truth eventually, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now short of catching the next train and coming after her. Elias wouldn’t do that though. As much as he might want to, just to overcome her, the ranch demanded he stay. His pa would want him at home, and even Ma Fletcher would realize there was nothing they could do to keep Lily anymore. She was finally free of them, and she’d stay that way. Surely Lily had gotten the last word—at least with Elias—and the wisp of a smile passed her lips at that thought, as the train whistled and rolled into the sunrise.
Lily settled in at last, finally able to feel the seat beneath her. She ran her fingers across the velvety soft space beside her. There weren’t many passengers yet, but the conductor approached.
“Good day, miss.”
“Good day.”
“I must ask for your ticket.”
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“Oh. Yes.” Lily scrounged into her handbag and handed the man her ticket.
He punched it and gave it back. “There is breakfast in the dining car, if you wish it.”
“Thank you.” Lily hadn’t extra money to spend on anything the dining car might offer. Not for breakfast at least. She’d planned to pay for one spare meal a day, but for today and tomorrow’s breakfast she’d stowed a couple of biscuits in her bag.
The wheels churned out a lulling rhythm. Maybe now she could rest awhile.
She finally set her bag off her lap, cramming it against her side beneath her elbow as a prop while she rested her eyes. That felt good. As long as the train kept moving, it would be safe to give up the fight for a little while, so Lily drowsed.
She startled awake sometime later, jerking her head upright from where her crown pressed against the window, crushing her hat. Never had she expected to fall so deeply asleep. She glanced about, embarrassed that people had probably seen her. After all, she was a grown woman, not a little girl like the time she took the long train ride west.
She straightened up, the stiffness in her neck and shoulder telling her that more time had passed than she first thought. The sun had risen well above the hills. She searched the landscape for some sign of how far the train had come. After a spell, the conductor passed by again, and she availed him. “Excuse me, can you tell me where we are now?”
“We’re almost to Table Rock, miss. We’ll stop there, then go on to Wamsutter. We’ll be in Laramie by lunchtime.” He smiled and moved on.
Lily removed her hat and patted her braided bun, which seemed to have held mostly in place. She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and turned her attention to the scenery. Little had changed, and it didn’t hold her interest long. If only she’d been able to squeeze a book into her bag, but she’d needed to keep it light and easy to carry. Besides, the thing was so old, she didn’t dare stuff it too tightly. The only thing she carried inside it besides clothing and the breakfast rolls was her small sewing case in case she lost a button or broke a seam. With so few changes of clothing, a girl couldn’t take chances.
The train picked up more passengers at the next stop, including an Indian woman and her small child. Lily smiled at the little girl whose
brown-eyed gaze swam over to meet her own. I hope you have a happy life. She couldn’t help the thought that came so naturally to her nearly every time she spied a child. Here on the train, the hope held a special poignancy.
Lily considered each traveler around her as she nibbled her biscuit and the train moved on to the next stop. Little by little, the passenger car filled. At Rawlins, she availed herself of the water closet, surprised how good it felt to stretch her legs after her long walk this morning to reach town. She went back to her seat and settled in again. What would the next ticket cost at Omaha? More importantly, what would she do once she reached Chicago? She hadn’t been able to think past simply getting that far. Even in all her days of planning, she couldn’t envision what would happen when she reached that destination. She’d have to go on, but to where?
She remembered watching out the train window when she’d departed Chicago all those years ago. People packed the platform. As the train tugged her away, she saw rails spread in every direction. The city itself stretched on for a long, long way.
Lily hadn’t known what lay in the heart of the city, except for the place where she stayed for a little while—an austere, red-brick building, with wide steps in front that seemed to go up and up to the doorway, where, inside, big rooms that smelled like urine housed boys and girls who slept in rows of beds. Leaving it hadn’t scared her. She was glad to go, even though she didn’t know where she might be headed next. Would she learn more about Chicago this time? She didn’t expect to be there long. Her destination lay. . . Oh, if only she knew the place.
If only she could remember how far she’d come before she wound up there. What was the name of the town she’d first come from? She only hoped that once she saw that depot again, it might all come back. She might remember. She recalled that it was the name of a valley—or that there was a valley nearby. If she could recollect it or spy it on a map, then she’d be able to purchase her next ticket there directly. It wasn’t much of a plan. Yet, God had answered her prayers and helped her get away from the Fletchers. Surely He’d show her what to do next.
The train pulled into Laramie before lunch, just as the conductor had said, and this time the remaining seats quickly filled. Lily hoped she’d have her seat to herself the entire way, but as the third-class coach
crowded with passengers, she realized that would be unlikely. She had finally released her carpetbag and tucked it beneath her feet as the car filled with the heat and smell of travelers. Chatter competed with the hiss of the engine letting off steam. Most passengers had no bags, having sent them to the baggage car. But Lily was afraid of being parted from hers should she have to make other sudden plans. What if Elias turned up at the very next station?
That was impossible, of course. He couldn’t pass a train. Still, realizing it didn’t lessen her concern. What if the Fletchers cabled to someone they knew—someone who really could stop her? Like a policeman or some family acquaintance? Mr. Fletcher sold his cattle everywhere, and besides that, he’d been a soldier with the state’s guardsmen during the Mexican border conflict only two years ago. He knew people everywhere.
A pair of women moved up the aisle, an older followed by one closer to Lily’s age. Lily offered the younger lady a smile. She wouldn’t mind sharing her seat with another young woman. Though the girl returned a cursory acknowledgment, she followed closely behind the older woman, and the pair moved past.
Behind them came a man who appeared to be in his mid- or late twenties. He donned a bowler hat—along with dark spectacles such as a blind man wore—and even though he had a cane on his wrist, he didn’t use it. He had on a casual, howbeit slightly worn, sack suit, but his coat draped over his arm, and his striped vest was left unbuttoned. He turned his attention toward her and tipped his head at the empty space beside her. “May I?”
Apparently, he wasn’t actually blind. Lily stiffened. She’d not expected a gentleman as a seatmate. She clipped a momentary, irrational fear from her thoughts. Not all young men were brutes like Elias. It was 1918. Times were changing. She gave him a blinking glance. He was definitely not a cowboy.
He removed his hat and awaited her reply. He looked citified, though not a dandy by any stretch. His shirtsleeves were cuffed up to his forearms. Dark brown waves, a bit too long for good style, flattened where his hat had crushed them.
Lily nodded, and he stared—or seemed to stare behind those dark lenses. Her posture tightened as her nerves wound tight. The fact that she could barely make out human eyes behind the smoky hue of the glasses
unnerved her, and she had to clear her throat before it closed completely. “Please. I don’t mind.” But she rather did.
He smiled then and lowered himself beside her, settling both the jacket and hat across his lap, and hooking his cane on the arm of the seat. A pleasant, manly scent of shaving soap came off him. She knew the smell of cleanliness by virtue of the fact that Elias rarely smelled better than his horse in an unmucked stall. “Thank you,” the man said, now no longer looking her way. “I promise not to become a bother.”
“It’s all right,” she murmured, trying not to look his way, and not sure why she should have said something so ridiculous as that. After all, she was running away from Wyoming. One thing she most certainly didn’t need, nor did she want, was a bother.
CHAPTER 2
Francis Basnett adjusted himself on the cushioned seat and stretched his legs as much as he was able, while trying not to encroach upon the space of the young woman beside him. The train was crowded. These days it seemed all trains were crowded, what with a war going on. At least the thought of passing the trip in the company of a young lady was welcome enough. He wanted to take another look at her, but he kept himself from doing so lest he end up staring. Thankfully, she hadn’t balked at sharing her seat with a strange man, or else he would’ve had no choice but to move in with the heavyset gent he’d passed two rows up whose shoulders took up most of the space and even jutted into the aisle. This girl was so slight, she took up hardly any room at all.
“Hand me my case, Barbara.”
Barbara.
Francis’ gaze roved back to spy the older woman who’d spoken, but the girl she’d spoken to was only a juvenile. Maybe twelve or so, Prissy’s age.
Still, it was the first time he’d heard that name spoken in over a year. Barbara. Bouncing soft curls piled high. Young. Dimpled. Flirty. Four years it had taken to push her image from regularly taking residence in his mind, and now it was back. He replayed their fateful day.
He’d kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, madly. “Marry me, Barbara, before I go crazy. I love you.” She’d made him think and feel things he never had before. Yet passion hadn’t provoked his proposal. He’d fallen in love with her weeks prior, and he’d had every intention of asking for her hand. In that instant, his proposal poured out like a hot kettle letting off steam, and the moment couldn’t have been more right.
Barbara drew back. She gaped and blinked wide-eyed, as though the
notion had never so much as occurred to her. “Marry you?” She gave a little chuckle, unbelieving.
He grinned and pulled her tight. “Of course. I’ve been squiring you around all summer, and if you think I’d kiss a girl the way I just kissed you without it meaning something, well. . .” He lifted his brow with a more suggestive smile.
But she gently pushed out of his arms. “Really, Francis, you and I. . .” A tiny gasp escaped her, and she gave her head a shake. Her pins had loosened, and her silky curls enticed him to remove them completely, but her reaction kept his touch at bay. She seemed to stumble over words. “We’ve had a wonderful summer, of course. But it’s not like we could ever really marry.” Even her glance pulled away, as though she had trouble looking at him directly. “I mean. . . ” She shrugged a shoulder. “What if you lose your full eyesight someday? As it is, you must realize how very vain I am. I need to be adored. Looked at. Admired. Someone must always tell me that I’m beautiful, and you. . .” She finally looked at him again, as though she expected him to finish her thought for her.
“You are beautiful. I tell you so.”
“Yes, I know you do. Now you do, because you can see me, but you might not always be able to do that, truthfully. I know it’s awfully selfish of me, but I’m only being honest. Besides, I could never—I mean—I wouldn’t be able to take care of you if you went completely blind. You must realize that too.” She laid a hand on his arm as though beseeching him to understand how obviously ridiculous it was that he should want to marry her. Or worse, that she should ever concede to marry him.
Even now after four years, the stunning refusal, like ice water, poured over him. First shock, then humiliation, and finally anger trembled through him at the total wretchedness her lack of warmth offered. He’d fallen into an abyss of love with her! And how sorely the chit had used him. He should have immediately despised her. Even so, that very day he went away still caring, still hoping she’d yet yield and amend her decision. He should have disdained her callous disregard, but it turned out she wasn’t so easy to dislodge from his tormented heart as that. His feelings, contrary as they were, were hard to untangle.
When he finally realized she wouldn’t be moved, he’d needed to escape the city, and that’s when he found Hagenbeck-Wallace passing through a nearby town. His heartache demanded a clean break, and the
circus manager didn’t care about his particular vision issues, just as long as he could manage the labor of a roustabout and travel without trouble. No problem. The schedule was grueling and the work exhausting. Much of the work was accomplished in setting up at predawn or tearing down late, both times when the dim light suited him best.
One season went by and then another. He spent the winters at the circus grounds in far-off Indiana. Eventually, the hurt of losing at love settled like silt in his soul, and he rose above it. Barbara had taught him a valuable truth, after all. She was right. He might go fully blind in a few years, and then he’d become someone’s burden. Only it wouldn’t be hers or the burden of any wife. If it hadn’t been for Barbara Weston’s honesty, he might marry someone and trap them forever under the weight of becoming his future nursemaid. He purposed that would never be. He planned to stay with his circus family as long as they’d have him, and then he’d hire a nursemaid who earned her keep without a single heart being broken. Hopefully, not even his family’s.
Four years ago, Barbara Weston had become an important life’s lesson, now part of his past. He’d not heard the name mentioned in at least a year, until today on the train. The last he’d heard of Barbara Weston was that the girl he’d proposed to had finally married some sailor—and had a baby six months later. Whether she loved the baby’s father or not, Francis hoped Barbara had grown up and settled down for her child’s sake.
The train’s whistle blew with a screech. Francis settled more comfortably into his seat. He had been foolish to fall for someone as young and spoiled as Barbara anyway. He’d needed maturing himself, and now he understood his own future better. He’d not saddle any woman with an incomplete man. A man who couldn’t see well enough to appreciate her womanly charms and who would one day likely become her dependent. Sure, a woman made fine companionship to have a dinner with or for taking an evening stroll under the stars. She was all right when he had the need to feel the softness of a woman’s hand tucked into the curve of his arm, or even for a romantic kiss or two that held no promises. But Francis reined in his self-control beyond that, knowing what it could lead to. And he would never let his heart become bound in an emotional stranglehold again.
Francis purposely kept his gaze straight ahead as the conductor made his way down the aisle punching tickets. There was no point in looking
out the window to try and spy Tess. His sister hadn’t come to the station with him to bid him farewell with a wave of her hankie. It didn’t seem right, leaving her way out here so far from the rest of their family, but it was done with now. She’d already left their hotel yesterday and gone on to her new lodgings. They’d said their goodbyes. Tess had teared up a little when she kissed his cheek, but she forced a smile and promised she’d be fine. Dear Tess. A better woman in her youth than Barbara had been by far.
Mother had cried when Tess left home for this isolated Wyoming country. Nevertheless, their parents believed this was a good thing for their eldest daughter, a way for her to make something of herself. Francis thought so too. He’d been twenty when he left for the circus, and Tess could do no worse leaving home at twenty-one. She’d be able to build a tidy little nest egg while she waited for Chester Stilton to come home from war. And if he didn’t come home. . . Please, God, bring him back safe, for Tess. But if He didn’t, then Tess would have the means to decide what her future might be. She’d make out all right.
The conductor had just punched Francis’ ticket when the train lurched and chugged, and Francis let out a soft sigh as he gazed over the heads of the people seated ahead of him. Was that young lady up ahead craning her neck to stare back at him? And was she scowling? What for? He didn’t recall tripping on her when he came down the aisle, nor had he done anything impolite. Foolish girl. Sweeping his glance away, he caught the young woman at his side looking up too. He shifted toward her. “I’m Francis Basnett.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Basnett.” Her voice was soft, delicate almost. “I’m Lily. Lily Dodge.” Her chin dipped.
“I’m pleased to meet you too, Miss Dodge.” He smiled again, then forced himself to sit back quietly. She seemed reticent, and he didn’t want to annoy her, though the morning was far enough on to enjoy some conversation. She must be traveling alone.
“Will you be traveling far?” she asked, taking him by surprise a few moments later. Did she hope to have her empty seat back? He had to disappoint her.
“All the way to Milwaukee.”
“M–Milwaukee? I’m sorry. I don’t know where that is.”
He suppressed his surprise by rubbing a thumb across his brow. “It’s
a spell. North of Chicago, across the border in Wisconsin. Right on the corner of the state by Lake Michigan. I’m guessing you’ve not been so far east before.” Or learned much geography.
“Oh, oh yes. Milwaukee. I remember now.” Did she? She sounded like she was making that up.
A steward came by, and Francis took in Lily’s features while she glanced up at the man. She was probably younger than Tess, but she was old enough, and quite lovely in a non-flashy way. Her skin looked smooth and not too pale. He’d lost interest in porcelain faces after Barbara and since joining the circus. He squinted to spy a sprinkling of freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. He wasn’t so blind that he couldn’t appreciate such a pretty face.
She caught him looking at her, and he offered a smile. Her hair was wound up in a braided bun at the back, but untamed bits escaped over the top of her brow and coiled alongside her neck. She turned demurely toward the window for a moment, and Francis took a lingering look. That braid was thick. Waves must plummet down her back when she took her hair down.
Her head pivoted in the steward’s direction again, and lashes swept up as thick as aster petals above irises deep and dark, making each strand of lash appear even more voluminous. She pulled her glance from the steward and caught Francis still staring—as he generally did when he studied someone new. Especially a beautiful someone. She blinked away, and he didn’t need to see her cheeks to believe she blushed.
“I’m sorry. Did you want something from the steward? I can call him back.”
“No, thank you.”
“I think I’ll ask for something to drink.” He turned his head to catch the man, who hadn’t gone far. “Excuse me.”
The steward returned. “Can I help you, sir?”
“When you have a moment, would you mind bringing two CheroColas if you have them, please?”
“I’d be happy to, sir.”
The girl laid a hand on Francis’ arm then quickly pulled it back. She shook her head. “Oh, no, I—”
“My treat. You were kind enough to share your seat,” Francis said. “Unless you really aren’t thirsty.” The temperature outside had climbed
considerably, and with all the people on the train, bodily warmth added to the press.
The tip of her tongue briefly explored the edge of her lips as she seemed to weigh his offer, then she nodded. “All right. Thank you.”
“Two,” he repeated to the man.
“I am a bit warm, and I haven’t had anything except a glass of water earlier,” she said, as he settled back once again.
He glanced surreptitiously over her clothing, neat as a pin, though nothing fancy. She might be poor as a church mouse, but she had selfrespect. “It’s no trouble. I’m able to travel comfortably. Not first class, mind you.” He gave a chuckle as he glanced over the crowded seating. “But I can certainly spare a nickel on a cool beverage.”
“Your offer is very generous.” Her voice sounded rather melodic. He liked it very much. How unfortunate she was young and probably going on her first adventure out of the nest. Younger women served only to remind him of his earlier foolishness.
“Do you sing, Miss Dodge?”
Her glance came up again, looking slightly startled by the question. He liked that he sat close enough to note such details of her expression, and it made him want to keep up the conversation. “Oh. . .no. Not really. Except for in church.” She gave a tiny shrug. “I supposed I sing aloud when I’m by myself sometimes.”
“Well, I thought you must be a singer. You have a lovely speaking voice.” Her fingertips fidgeted atop her skirt. He’d embarrassed her. She wasn’t used to flirting. Strange. . .and quite new. He leaned his elbow on the outside rest and rubbed his chin as he tilted his head to study her more openly. “I know I’ve only just met you, but if first appearances mean anything, I think you’re a different sort of girl, Miss Dodge.”
“Am I?” Her dark eyes steadied on him. “Why do you think that?”
He chuckled. “Because I embarrassed you with that compliment, and I’m sorry about that. It’s only that I haven’t known many young ladies to embarrass easily, especially these days.”
“I’m only a country girl, Mr. Basnett. I’m not used to—to bantering with strangers.”
“You mean men, I suppose.”
“I suppose.”
“And here I am bothering you when I promised I wouldn’t.”
“It’s all right. Really.” She gave her assurance so quickly, he had to smile inside. So, she didn’t mind being bothered so much after all.
She glanced up as the steward appeared with their drinks. Francis gave him a dime and handed hers over. “To a safe and happy journey,” he said, holding his bottle toward hers. She joined him in the toast by tapping her bottle to his. He took a long sip and afterward let out a sigh. “That hits the spot.”
She sipped more daintily and agreed. Her lashes came down again, as she seemed to savor the refreshment. He pretended not to be watching as she lowered the bottle. “I feel I ought to thank you again, Mr. Basnett. I didn’t realize just how thirsty I was.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you changed your mind and allowed me.” He took another drink before he looked at her again. “Since we’re traveling together—so to speak—you can call me Francis if you like. It doesn’t feel right being called mister while I’m only twenty-four. My teachers used to call me Mr. Basnett when I wasn’t paying attention in school.” He gave her a rueful smile and said firmly, “Mr. Basnett, are you listening?”
Did her shoulders relax? And was that a tiny laugh? He let his gaze linger. She was definitely smiling.
“I’ve heard boys called mister in Sunday school. Usually after tugging on some young lady’s braid,” she said. He chuckled, and her smile broadened. She let out a little breath and seemed to relax further. “Since we’re to be sharing a seat, at least for now, you can call me Lily. I don’t mind.”
He gave her what he thought was his most gentlemanly smile. “All right, Lily. You know, you haven’t said where you’re traveling to—or from, if you prefer. Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business. I’ve no wish to pry.”
“I’m going to Chicago and likely even farther. I haven’t quite decided.” She said it with a small jut of her chin, exposing a bit of grit.
“Ah. A woman of mystery and adventure.” He grinned, and his response drew another full smile from her, lighting her face. It had a mirror effect, for her response certainly pleased him. “Then perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you another treat later. You should save your money while you can. Chicago can be an expensive city.”
She withdrew slightly. He probably shouldn’t mention money. Grit or not, she was a woman traveling alone, and he was a stranger. Enough of plying her with questions. “I accompanied my sister Tess to Laramie.
