LITMIR.BIZ

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is that smug little smile about?” Alexander asked.

      Fear poured unchecked through her. Did she look smug? Had she annoyed him? Her heart pounded. The blood drained from her head. Time and place seemed to shift and she was back with Edgar in the mansion in Syracuse. She could no longer hold on to the present.

      “Was I smiling?” she whispered, her voice warbling around a lump in her throat the size of New York City.

      Then she looked up and her gaze met Alexander’s sparkling eyes. His teasing smile. And she was back on the train headed west. It was September the thirteenth. Relief replaced fear and she could breathe again.

      This panic that washed over her at the unexpected sound of a man’s voice was a reflex she had to learn to fight or she was sure to bring notice upon herself. She saw it now. Concern flooded his gaze as surely as the terror had flooded her senses. She could not let them do this to her any longer.

      Moving her hand forward, she lifted her remaining bishop and slid it forward till it mated his king. “Checkmate.”

       Chapter Four

      As dusk approached on an uneventful Saturday, the porter entered with coffee and dessert. Alex stood and followed him from the car. It had been three and a half days since leaving Philadelphia. They were due for a layover in Chicago during the night. The farther from New York they traveled the more Alex’s confidence rose. It seemed they had pulled off the impossible and gotten Patience away without a hitch in their hastily cobbled together plan.

      “Virgil,” he called before the man could enter the next car to return to his duties.

      The porter turned back and returned across the divide between the cars. “Yes, sir?” he asked over the persistent click-clack of the train’s wheels.

      To Alex, Virgil looked about his own thirty-five years, though shorter and thinner. Yet he muscled bags and trunks around like an automaton—never slowing, never stopping. It didn’t seem right that the railroad paid him a pittance for all that hard work.

      “I wanted to give you something for your trouble in case you aren’t going through with us to St. Louis.”

      The porter put his hand up to ward off Alex. “I’m going all the way to Texarkana on this run, sir. ‘Sides, it don’t seem right takin’ money from you. I hardly do a thing for you and yours.”

      Alex smiled. “And I’m well aware you’re not to blame for that. I’m afraid the Winstons are tireless and cannot abide being idle.” He slid a one-dollar gold certificate into the porter’s hand.

      Virgil looked down at the money then back up, his surprise showing plainly in his dark eyes. His expression spoke volumes. At first he was clearly unbelieving, then gratitude shone in his uncertain gaze.

      Alex knew it was an extravagant amount of money to a poor man. In Texas an acre of land could be bought for that amount but inequity of any sort bothered him. Living in this land of freedom and opportunity, Alex found it even more troubling to see there were still some left out of America’s great promise.

      “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds,” Virgil said. “You can’t know what this is gonna mean to me and mine. You’s a good man.”

      Uneasy as the object of such heartfelt admiration, Alex stepped back toward the door to the car. “You’re quite welcome. I had better get in and eat before my housekeeper boxes my ears.”

      A wide grin split the man’s dark face. “She a tough one, sir. Tell her I’ll be back for them dishes later.”

      At about ten the next night, an hour after leaving Chicago, Alex looked up to hear Virgil at the door speaking to Winston. “I needs a word with Mr. Reynolds,” Virgil told Winston, worry rife in his voice.

      Alex stood.

      “Don’t trouble yourself, sir. I’ll see to this,” Winston said.

      If something was wrong, Alex wanted it firsthand from Virgil. “No, Winston, you go back to your cribbage game with the family,” Alex said, playing to the concocted tale of the mythical Winston family. “I insist,” he added when Winston opened his mouth as if to protest.

      “Mr. Reynolds,” Virgil said as Alex stepped onto the platform of the car, “I thought I should tell you. Somethin’ troublin’s goin’ on. They’s two men who got on in Chicago lookin’ for a young lady and showin’ her picture to the other passengers. Offerin’ a reward even. A big one.” He paused then blurted, “She look like your young lady, sir.”

      “Damn Pinkertons,” Alex growled, not bothering to correct Virgil’s mistaken impression of his relationship with Patience. He’d hoped to get her as far as Texas before the detectives discovered she hadn’t gone to Britain with his cousin’s wife. He sighed and looked toward the heavens. After a moment’s thought, he realized there was nothing to do until he learned if the men planned to continue on past Texarkana.

      If that were the case, he’d have to have Jamie’s car dropped off the train in St. Louis. They couldn’t arrive on the same train in San Antonio with the detectives. They were due into St. Louis for a long stopover. He could have them hooked back up for the rest of the trip in a day or so. Perhaps get off sooner than San Antonio and buy horses and wagons to travel overland to the Rocking R.

      It wouldn’t do to panic, though. Dropping the car from the train could cause more notice of the private car—and its occupants. He would save that as a last desperate measure as it could only buy them a little time.

      Which still left the problem of Lionel Wexler wanting to marry Patience off to a man she feared. And there seemed only one solution to that—one he was loath to even consider.

      Yet.

      Hoping to find a better long-range plan that didn’t complicate his new life further, Alex went to work solving the immediate problem. “Virgil, I need to know how far these men plan to go along the Texas Short Line.”

      “I’ll see if’n I can find out about that, sir.”

      Alex nodded and dug out a half-dollar coin to repay Virgil for his loyalty.

      The man shook his head. “No, sir. If I’d of wanted money, I could have gave her up. They offerin’ a lot of it, that’s for sure. But you folks been right kind to me. Ya’ll even bothered to learn my real name so’s not to call me George, like my mamma never give me a name. I appreciate that more than I can say. It’s lucky I’m the only one who seen her.”

      Alex sighed. “Lucky indeed. I cannot thank you enough, Virgil. Tell me, how well do you know St. Louis?”

      “Real well. St. Louis been my home since right after the war. Why, sir?”

      “I have some plans to think over. I’ll let you know if they turn out to be of any consequence. I may need your help in that case.”

      Virgil nodded, then stepped between cars. Alex was relieved to have an ally who was free to roam the train. A window in the door allowed him to see into the baggage car as Virgil rushed through it. It was good to know the porter felt as he did about the danger of their situation.

      Not wanting to face Patience until he was sure of how dire the situation was, Alex stayed there staring between the cars as the tracks blurred by below. The click-clack of the wheels repeated thoughts of what he’d have to do to protect Patience, as well as worries for her safety.

      Had he been wrong to bring her along? He shook his head, still seeing no other path for her to have taken. Now, though, it seemed putting half the continent between her and that father of hers might only delay the inevitable. And that was wrong in so many ways he refused to try counting them.

      Ten minutes later Virgil returned, clutching a handbill. “Them Pinkerton agents is continuin’ on only to Texarkana. They say they got other agents checkin’ the other lines just to be sure she ain’t travelin’ by rail anywhere in the country.” He passed Alex the handbill and pointed to it as he lit

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