Catherine Kline
Catherine Kline left her brother reading yesterday’s Daily Picayune in their open compartment. She couldn’t bear to watch him read another minute.
Going somewhere besides New Orleans, and the novelty of traveling by train, filled her with a constant hum of excitement. She could not sit quietly as the world pass by her window.
Cat made her way to the front of the car, and tipped her head to the elderly couple seated near the forward door. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder at her brother and slipped onto the small observation platform between cars.
Her breath caught as an exhilarating rush of air swirled by her. The trees the train passed were no longer draped moss. They had made the line transfer in Jackson and were now headed west toward Shreveport. A new scent, as unfamiliar as the trees, swirled around her and she inhaled the crisp fragrance.
The small platform boasted a safety rail on each side, but was open to the platform on the next car. She stepped across the opening above the linkage and entered the adjoining car.
Catherine passed forward through three cars before she encountered a locked door with a sign that stated, “NO ADMITTANCE”. Unwilling to return to her seat, she stood on the platform in the fresh air and felt the rumble of the wheels beneath her feet.
It wasn’t long until her stomach rumbled as well, a reminder breakfast waited with Sam.
I should go back. Sam will wonder where I’ve gone.
She retraced her steps through the cars and caught sight of a familiar face.
His back would have been to her when she passed through on her way forward. Now, he stared out the window, as though deep in thought. His reflection in the glass showed the long scar, from his eye to his chin. The side of his face turned toward her—tanned and unblemished—beautiful. An unfamiliar tingle assailed her stomach and her heart fluttered.
Curious.
His chin wore a day’s worth of stubble. His thick, black hair had been brushed back and secured with a leather tie at his nape. Shorter hairs escaped the binding and feathered along his face, softening the sharp angle of his jaw. He had a perilous and mysterious air about him that drew her. Sam had a dangerous feel about him as well, so that proved no impediment. However, the mystery seated before her filled her stomach with nervous flutters.
Cat smoothed her windblown hair and gripped her skirt. With an easy smile, she stepped to the empty bench across from her brother’s friend and seated herself.
Inquiring blue eyes, deep set and lined by thick, dark lashes, turned from the window to her.
Cat felt her smile falter, but only for a moment; then, she held out her gloved hand. “I’m afraid my brother failed to introduce us the other night. My name is Catherine Kline, but my friends call me Cat.”
His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. He sat forward and took her hand in his. “Well, you are quite a surprise this morning, Miss Kline. Are we friends then? Should I call you Cat?”
Cat’s grin grew wide as the warmth of his large hand penetrated her glove “We might be friends, if I knew your name. Are you and Sam good friends?”
He tipped his head, as if to consider the question. “No. Not really. We’ve worked together—twice, I believe.” He shrugged and placed his other hand on top of Cat's. “No one calls me by my given name, ma chère. Both friends and acquaintances call me Hunter.”
Cat glanced at her trapped hand, then back to Hunter's amused eyes and dimpled her cheek with a half-smile. “My brother is a hunter of sorts, as well, sir. Since Hunter is not your given name, I shall venture to guess it is something of a title, not unlike doctor, or conductor.” She shook her head and leaned closer, resting her other hand upon his. “If we are to be friends, sir, and I were to allow you to address me as Cat, I would need more from you than your title.” Cat lifted her chin and smiled a challenge.
Hunter gave her hands a gentle squeeze, released them, and leaned back in his seat. “Is your brother on board, Miss Kline?” His eyes sparkled, and the smile on his face met her challenge.
“He is. Our compartment is three cars back. We travel to Denver. And you?”
“Denver, ma chère? I travel there as well.” His eyes narrowed, and his white teeth flashed a grin. “Perhaps it is more than coincidence I ran into you and your brother on the riverboat.”
Cat waved her hand in annoyance. “Sam likes to gamble, Mr. Hunter. He visits the riverboat whenever he’s in town.” The way he watched her made her neck and stomach tingle. “I must say I found watching the card games disappointing. Perhaps, if I had played a hand and placed a wager, it would have kept me better entertained.”
Hunter rubbed his hand across his mouth and cleared his throat. “You are an adventurous woman, Miss Kline. Are you from N’Orleans?”
“I am, sir. And you?”
“Oui. I grew up in the city.” He sat forward and studied her face. “May I ask what takes you and your brother to Denver?”
Cat looked around the railcar. No one sat nearby. She leaned toward Hunter, her voice low. “You know of my brother's work, Mr. Hunter?” She waited for him to nod. “He’s going to Denver regarding an investment firm. He’s always rather vague about his work.” Cat sat back and arranged her skirt. “For my part, I refused his offer to attend a finishing school. I have set my mind toward discovering the world.” She gestured at the countryside passing beyond the window. “Isn't this exciting?”
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