LITMIR.BIZ

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was it.

      

      Trina saw her father entering Gabriel’s compartment Luckily, he didn’t catch her spying. This was her chance to get that key—if her father didn’t have it in his pocket.

      Trina tiptoed down the corridor and into her father’s compartment She closed the door then stood with her back against it, surveying the room. Where might he have put it? Methodically she went through everything piece by piece: his valise, which contained a bunch of papers, but no key; his overcoat pockets—nothing there to shout about; and finally the chest of drawers in the water closet. Nothing. Hell’s bells! He had it in his pocket for sure.

      She was about to go back to her own quarters when she spied something in the corner between one of the chairs and the baseboard heater.

      “Absentminded old fool,” she muttered. “Why, this could’ve caught on fire and burned up the whole train.” She reached for the leather case and pulled it into the center of the room. It was hot on the side touching the heater. Locked. Just like the trunks. What could her father be carrying that had to be locked up?

      A noise in the corridor reminded her to hurry a bit. She replaced the leather case, taking care it didn’t lean against the heater this time, and went back to the door.

      Easing it open just enough to peek out, she waited until a woman with two noisy children disappeared into a compartment at the far end of the car, verified the corridor was empty, then tiptoed back to her own compartment as the door to Gabriel’s quarters opened and her father emerged. Trina leaned against the door, puffing a little from the excitement of her clandestine activities, and listened for conversation, but there was none.

      What did her father want with Gabriel? Obviously, protection. But what about the trunks and that strange case? She couldn’t remember ever seeing that case in his study at home. Those items might indicate other doings afoot If only she could get his keys so she could see what was hiding in those mysterious parcels…

      

      When Gabriel woke from a restless sleep, the sun had slipped behind the mountain. Shadows enclosed the train in gloomy darkness.

      His stomach rumbled. A steak would go down mighty good right now. Rare, with juices running out when he sliced through. Some fried potatoes and onions would taste pretty good, too.

      Gabriel washed his face and hands and tried to wake up a little more. Sleeping in the daytime had become a habit while he was mending. He’d have to quit it pretty soon. It didn’t look good at all for a grown man to take naps like a little kid.

      He decided to change his shirt while freshening up. The one he’d been wearing all day—and sleeping in for the past couple of hours—had wrinkled badly.

      Gabriel pulled on a fresh shirt, tucked it in, then made his way forward to the dining car, hooked on in front of the passenger car. A steward met him at the door.

      “Ah, Mr. Hart. Senator McCabe requests that you join him for dinner.”

      Great. Just great. How could he refuse without seeming rude? He followed the steward to where the senator and Trina sat on opposite sides of the table.

      “Senator. Miss McCabe.” He noticed she’d left the feathered hat in her compartment. Wise decision. Her hair was as red as a Hereford calf, falling down her back, almost to her waist.

      Trina indicated the chair next to hers. “So glad you could join us, Mr. Hart.”

      Gabriel sat down, acutely aware the table was so small and the chairs so close together that their elbows touched.

      Senator McCabe gave Gabriel a questioning look.

      Gabriel ignored it, answering silently that he hadn’t made up his mind yet.

      Trina studied both of them carefully, wondering what all the unspoken communication was about, then launched into a lively spiel concerning the china and silver on the table.

      Gabriel hardly listened. Who cared about the dishes? Or the pink and purple broomstraw flowers in a glass vase? Or the linen tablecloth and napkins?

      McCabe commented occasionally, but his mind clearly wasn’t on the table setting, either.

      The steward took their orders. Gabriel asked for a rare steak and fried potatoes with onions, the senator took the same and Trina selected some sort of fancy chicken dish with sauce on top and vegetables on the side. The steward filled their glasses with water and left.

      Gabriel wished for a more substantial beverage, but decided he could wait until later, just before bedtime. And only a short one then. The senator’s actions demonstrated an undercurrent of fear and anxiety Gabriel didn’t like one bit. Even though things had settled down considerably since the senator had disposed of those two men, Gabriel knew better than to relax.

      When their food arrived, Gabriel cut into the steak, then almost dropped his knife. Under the tablecloth Trina’s hand tightened on his knee.

      What the devil was she up to? Was she trying to alert him to danger of some sort? He ventured a sideways glance at her, but she chattered merrily to her father about some sort of society something Gabriel knew nothing about. Her hand left his leg and reappeared holding her napkin. She dabbed at her lips daintily and looked squarely at him.

      “How is your meat, Mr. Hart?”

      Gabriel looked off down the car, at his steak, anywhere but at her. “Fine, ma’am. Just fine.”

      She replaced the napkin in her lap.

      Her hand squeezed his thigh this time and Gabriel choked on his steak. He hacked until his throat was clear, then gulped water until he could breathe again.

      “Something wrong with your steak?” Senator McCabe frowned with concern.

      “No, Senator. Just…hard to swallow.” He gave Trina a look meant to embarrass her, but it had the opposite effect. She squeezed his thigh again, letting her fingers dance around a little.

      What a tart she was! Gabriel decided to shock her into being the lady she was supposed to be. He dropped his left hand to his lap, took her hand in his and brought it higher on his thigh until her hand touched—

      Trina jerked her hand away and choked on a bite of chicken. Gabriel slapped her on the back.

      “Now you, Trina?” Senator McCabe looked back and forth between Gabriel and his daughter, who was so red in the face she could have been suffering a stroke. “Perhaps I should speak to the chef. Something is causing both of you to strangle.”

      “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Senator.” Gabriel patted Trina on the back again and smiled. “She’ll be fine. I think she may have bitten off more than she could chew, that’s all.”

      Trina gasped for breath and glared at Gabriel. How dare he do such a crude thing to her, right in front of her father? Why, he’d practically…practically…as a matter of fact, he’d actually…put her hand…She sputtered again and reached for her water glass.

      “Confound it, Trina, are you all right, or aren’t you?”

      Gabriel picked up his napkin and handed it to her, thinking she might need an extra. “She’s fine, Senator.”

      When she took the napkin, Gabriel thought about squeezing her knee, but it would set her to choking again, as sure as shootin’. He decided to leave well enough alone.

      They finished the meal with little conversation.

      Gabriel enjoyed Trina’s discomfort immensely. In fact, it made him happier than he’d been in months.

      Trina could hardly wait for the meal to end. She wanted to wring Gabriel’s neck! That’s exactly what she intended to do, just as soon as the train was quiet and everyone else was asleep. She’d teach Gabriel Hart a thing or two about embarrassing Katrina McCabe!

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