LITMIR.BIZ

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      Her father coughed and nudged her with his elbow. “Trina, hand me that bag.”

      She fetched the heavy leather case for her father and noted again how he wheezed when he talked. He was too heavy, that’s all there was to it She’d been trying to get him to cut down on fat meats and gravy for the longest time, but he stubbornly refused. The bigger he’d gotten, the more trouble he’d had breathing. This thin mountain air didn’t help one bit. When they got to Silver Falls, where it was much higher still, what would he do then? She didn’t want to think about it, but she had to. If something happened, she would be the one responsible for finding help. Tom should have come with them, but he’d stubbornly refused. Her father wouldn’t hear of it, anyway. Too much work to be done at the ranch—as always. Never a slack minute.

      Trina coughed. Her nose stung and her eyes watered fiercely. Something had to be done about the air or they’d all perish.

      “Conductor! Conductor!” She fanned her face with her hankie until he got there. “We simply must open some windows. The air—”

      “Winders! Are you out of your mind?”

      “I most certainly am not. I’m deeply concerned—”

      “But, ma’am, it’s cold outside. If we open them winders, you’re likely to freeze solid before we reach the first pass.” His wrinkled face twisted into an expression of sheer disgust.

      “It’s stuffy and smoky in here. I can hardly breathe.”

      “Well, then, I ‘spect you’d better stick your nose outside that door and cool off a mite. I ain’t openin’ them winders. Not for you or anybody on this train.”

      “Well, I never…!”

      The conductor stuck his nose in the air and stalked off down the car.

      Gabriel grinned at the exchange. The wind and a swirl of snow from the door when the conductor left sent a shiver through him. It was just like a woman to want to open a window in winter on a train going thirty miles an hour. Gabriel studied the feisty Miss McCabe for a moment. And feisty she was. Now she was railing at “Papa” to do something about the stuffiness. Spoiled. Pampered. Nothing but a beautiful child.

      The senator finally interrupted her tirade. “Go stand on the landing, Trina, if you’re that all-fired hot. I have business to tend to before we get to Silver Falls. I can’t get it done with you caterwauling about how thick the air is.”

      Gabriel almost laughed out loud when Trina’s bottom lip stuck out. Pouting. Poor little rich girl. She spied him watching her. He should have looked away, but didn’t.

      Trina squared her shoulders, tucked in her bottom lip and glared at him. Then she stood, whirled around and headed for the far end of the car. She pulled the heavy door open, then held it there, standing behind it out of the wind, until everyone in the car hooted and hollered and the car filled with snow and cinders. Then she slammed the door, went back to her seat and perched there, stiff as a tree trunk.

      Gabriel kept right on grinning. Her cheeks flamed with anger and she deliberately looked away. Gabriel knew how mad she was, but couldn’t help being amused by it all. He’d enjoyed her little display, even though it had chilled him to the bone. She had spunk, a man had to give her that. In fact, there were a lot of things a man would like to give her.

      The thought disturbed him. During the fourteen months he’d spent healing and getting his strength back, he’d never even looked at a woman. The pain from losing Hannah to that scum had blacked out any thought other than stringing the son of a bitch up by his tenderest parts, and torturing him until he screamed in agony, the way Hannah had screamed. The memory made him shiver, but not from cold.

      Now here he was, swapping howdies across the room with a spoiled senator’s daughter. Gabriel decided a walk might not be a bad idea. He knew every face now. Sitting in this contraption they called a seat had made him stiff, even though he shouldn’t be having such pains. He wasn’t that old. Twenty-nine. Or was it thirty? He’d missed one birthday, delirious with fever and pain, thanks to that sorry bastard Blackburn.

      She was still glaring at him from time to time. Well, he’d just have to apologize. But not too much. Gabriel smiled and tipped his hat at the poker-faced lady when he strode past, then stepped out on the platform between the passenger and Pullman cars, careful to close the door securely behind him. That ought to get her fired up, for sure.

      He shuddered in the frigid wind, then took a deep draft of mountain air. Damn, but it smelled good. Nothing like it in all the world. The fragrances of ponderosa and limber pines, aspens, maples and spruce mingled with the frosty aroma of fresh snow. How snow could have a smell, Gabriel didn’t know, but it did. A clean smell. New. Unblemished. It covered the ugliness with unmatched beauty. Only when people walked through it and muddied it up did it lose its virgin whiteness and turn to slush and slop in the roadways. Signs of progress.

      Cities had come to smell like pigsties, with all the newfangled machinery and trains belching smoke all over the place. He preferred clean mountain air anytime. And snow without boot prints.

      Gabriel took a long, slow breath and drank in the spectacle around him. Mountains held their heads up fourteen thousand feet overlooking valleys, broad and fertile, and lofty bluffs exposing layers of sandstone in a dozen colors. Magnificent Gabriel had come to love this country during his search for justice and revenge, yet he still longed for Texas—and home. Someday, after Blackburn was dead and left to rot, Gabriel would go home.

      The door bumped open behind him. Gabriel knew without looking who it would be. Only, she didn’t seem to be riled.

      “Mr. Hart, I believe? My father told me about you. I am Katrina McCabe.”

      So, she wasn’t married after all. Gabriel amended his previous assumption. Future son-in-law, perhaps?

      “What can I do for you, Miss McCabe?”

      Gabriel looked sideways at her. She’d already begun to shiver hard. He wondered how long she’d last before having to run back inside the car, stuffy or otherwise. The cape she wore would be fine if she weren’t out in the wind. Out here, she needed a heavy coat.

      He supposed he should get her out of the cold, but somehow he also figured she wouldn’t want to talk in the same car with her father. This lady had something stuck in her craw, but he didn’t really want to know what it was. He had enough to think about for one train ride. Her cheeks flushed red with the cold, matching the color of her pouty lips.

      “I’m c-con-concerned about something. I h-hoped you might be able to h-help.” Trina clutched the cape tighter around her but it did nothing to stop the bite of the wind. She might turn to a pillar of ice right where she stood.

      Gabriel wanted to curse out loud. His only concern was his own business. Damn, but this woman was getting to be a bother, in less time than it took to take a decent nap.

      “I was about to inspect my quarters in the Pullman, Miss McCabe. You might want to check on yours, also.”

      “A splen-splendid idea, Mr. Hart.”

      Gabriel helped her across the walkway and onto the next platform, then held the heavy door open against the wind while she hurried into the Pullman car opposite. He stepped inside after her and pulled the door closed behind him with a loud clang.

      Their breaths puffed steamy in the cold air of the Pullman. Baseboard heaters, warming the compartments with heat from the locomotive’s furnace, didn’t warm the corridors very much. It took her a while to stop shivering.

      Gabriel thought about offering her his fleece-lined coat, then changed his mind. No use being cold just because some flighty female decided to take a walk. She’d warm up if she stayed inside.

      “Feelin’ better, ma’am?”

      Trina patted her cheeks, swept the snow and cinders from her skirt, straightened her pleats and tried to assume a dignified air before answering his question. “Somewhat better, Mr. Hart. Thank you kindly.”

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