Catherine Kline
The change from the MKT line to the Central Pacific Railroad in Junction City went smoothly. Even though the transfer again took place at night, they were able to purchase food and water from the depot vendors and board the westbound train in record time.
The excitement of traveling by rail had worn thin. Cat wanted a bed and a bath more than anything else she could think of. Worse yet, Hunter sat in the same car as her under the watchful eye of her brother.
As the sun rose behind them, the low East Kansas hills flattened, and the plains unfolded into a vast sea of grass. At first, the endless vista of blue sky and golden prairie thrilled Cat with its stark beauty. Then it became boring. She curled up on her seat and fell asleep.
The sudden jar and squeal of the brakes woke her. “What’s happening?” She sat up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. She looked from the window to her brother.
Sam set his paper aside and stood. Hunter passed their seat and disappeared through the forward exit. “Stay here, Cat. I’ll find out why we’re stopping.” Sam followed Hunter out the door.
Passengers called questions to each other, creating a cacophony of voices inside the car.
“No need to worry, folks.” The conductor’s call boomed from the rear door and quieted the worried voices. He spoke at a normal volume as he strolled up the aisle. “The engineer sighted a herd of buffalo on the south side of the train. Since we’re ahead of schedule, we’ll make a short stop to allow you to observe these animals. For those who wish to fire upon the herd, you will be required to exit the train.”
The car jerked again as its forward momentum ceased.
Cat rose from her seat, along with several people seated on the north side of the train, to look out the south-facing windows. The herd grazed far enough from the train she could not distinguish separate animals. The sea of golden grass vanished in the distance into a dark blemish across the prairie. As she turned away to retake her seat, the crack of a rifle resonated through the passenger car. The sound startled Cat and she spun back toward the windows. The observers pressed closer to the window to see the shooters beside the train.
“The animals are too far for the hunters to injure, ma chère.”
Cat looked up at Hunter and smiled. “I thought so. They’re not even close enough to see properly.”
Hunter chuckled. “Their odor will not be missed, I assure you.”
Cat grinned and took her seat, away from the exclamations of the onlookers. “Where’s Sam?”
Hunter sat across from Cat. “He made it known to the conductor that he is a U.S. Marshal. The conductor asked him to monitor the activities outside.”
Gunfire continued outside the train. The watchers shouted advice from the open windows.
Hunter turned sideways in his seat, one leg angled on the bench, to look out over the observers’ heads.
Cat’s gaze etched Hunter’s profile, committing it to memory. He had brushed his black hair back and tied the long strands with a leather strip at his collar. Her contemplation followed his smooth brow and straight nose down to his full, well-defined lips. The only mar to his perfect profile—the scar running down his cheek.
I wonder what happened?
“If Sam sees you look at me like that, ma très chère, he may well shoot me.” Hunter grinned and turned toward Cat.
Her face warmed, but she raised her chin and refused to drop her gaze. “Why?” she asked. “You’ve done nothing to warrant such a reprisal from Sam.”
“Not yet, but should you continue to regard me with such—affection—I might.” His grin grew into a broad smile.
“Really?” She leaned forward, her smile matching his. “Like what?”
“Mademoiselle Kline.” Hunter sat forward and took her hand. “You appear to be under the impression I am a nice, honorable man. I must warn you, I am neither of those things.”
Cat squeezed his hand, leaned closer and whispered, “By making such an admission, sir, it means you are a nice, honorable man.” She leaned back and looked down at their hands, his fingers large and tanned compared to hers. “A villainous lout would not warn a lady of his ill intent.” Her gaze darted to his and she smiled.
Hunter raised an eyebrow, but his expression grew serious. He spoke softly, his attention on their hands. “Is that so?” He caressed her palms, and stroked between her delicate fingers. “Perhaps your logic is flawed, ma chère. An unscrupulous man may hope to gain a young woman’s sympathy by admitting to an imperfect character.” He raised his somber expression to Cat.
Cat shook her head. “I don’t believe that.” Her smile faded.
He makes excuses.
“If you want me to leave you alone, I will.” She tipped her head and looked away, north across the prairie. “I know I’ve acted immodestly, just as the girls at school behaved brazenly toward Sam. He found them annoying.” She looked back at Hunter and captured his gaze. “Mr. Hunter—Alexander—I don't want you to think of me as Sam’s annoying little sister.” She pressed her lips and took a quick breath. “I’ll leave you alone and cease looking at you with such... devotion, if that is what you wish.”
“Ah, ma bien-aimée, and there lies the problem.” He shook his head and turned her hand palm up. His finger traced a line around the pad of her thumb. “I don't want you to take your affection from me, and I don't think of you as Sam’s younger sister.” His stern glance lifted to her face. “Although I should.”
Cat’s heart swelled at his words. She gripped his hand and met his grim expression with a joyous smile.
He shook his head, released her fingers and ran his hand across his jaw. His head turned toward the passengers who continued to shout encouragement at the shooters. When he spoke, his words were low. “Cat, I have nothing to offer a well-bred young woman like yourself.”
The song in her heart dimmed, along with her smile, as he pinned her with apologetic eyes.
“I live from one job to the next. There is no single place I call home. Mon beau chaton, you deserve a better life than the one I could give you.”
Cat's joy evaporated. She took a breath to speak, and it caught in her throat. Unable to look a moment longer into his well-meaning eyes, she dropped her gaze to her lap and cleared her throat. “So you do want me to leave you alone, if only for my own sake.”
“No, ma chère.”
Her head came up, and she searched his face.
Hunter leaned close and whispered, “What I want is to tear the clothes from your body and make sweet, passionate love to you.” He leaned back and took a deep breath. “There. Now do you see what kind of villainous lout I have become?” Hunter glanced briefly back at Cat, then leaned forward and covered his face. “Mon Dieu!”
Cat’s eyes had gone wide with possibilities. “All of my clothes—and yours too? Both of us?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Naked and kissing?” She wasn’t sure he heard her speak until he groaned. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the railcar. She placed a hand over her open mouth as her imagination took flight, and then she nodded. “Yes. I believe I should like to try that.” Her sight returned from the delightful imagery his suggestion conjured and settled on the man across from her.
He shook his head. “Dissuading you only gives you more ideas.” Hunter rubbed his face with his hand then met her gaze. “What am I to do with you?”
Cat grinned in an effort not to laugh in jubilation. “I believe your last suggestion would work quite well, for a start.”
Hunter shrugged and held out his hand. “We can't do that, petit chat. As I’ve already explained, I’ve nothing to offer you in return.”
Cat shook her head. “Mr. Hunter, I’ve never asked anything of you in return for my affection. However, if there’s a problem on your side of this ... relationship, and you feel you need to offer me more than you currently have, then obtain it. I can do nothing about your perception of what I deserve. All I can do is tell you what I’m willing to do.”
“You seem willing to do most anything, très chère.” He retorted and threw a look of frustration at her.
“You have no idea what I would be willing to try.” Her grin grew until she bit her finger and looked out the window with a chuckle.
Naked and kissing. Who would have thought?
“Merde,” Hunter muttered. “And it's not Mr. Hunter, Cat. It’s... Veau. Alexander Veau. Hunter, as you pointed out, is my title. But please, petit chat, be discreet. No one knows that name.”
Through the open window, Cat heard the conductor encourage the people outside to finish their target practice and reboard the train. The aisle filled with men stowing their weapons and returning to their seats.
Hunter rose and stepped into the crowded aisle. Moments later, Sam slid onto the bench across from Cat.
“Did you watch any of that nonsense?” Sam fanned his face with his hat. Perspiration beaded his face.
“Some of it.”
The whistle blew twice, and the car jerked several times as the wheels were set in motion.
Sam dropped his hat beside him on the bench, ran his hand through his hair and smiled at Cat. “I’m ready to eat. How about you?”
Cat shrugged. “I suppose. It must be close to dinner time.” She searched beneath the seat and pulled out a basket of baked chicken.
After they ate, Sam returned to reading the paper, while Cat took up a sampler she’d started a month ago. She tried to keep her thoughts away from Hunter removing her clothes while they kissed, but her imagination wouldn’t leave the image alone. She shifted in her seat and took another stitch in her sampler.
Soon, the clouds turned orange, and then pink, while the sky grew dark behind them. When the conductor walked through the car and dimmed the lights, Cat put away her sewing and pulled her blanket and pillow from under Sam’s seat. She curled on the bench, her head pillowed beneath the window. Denver remained several hours away. They were scheduled to arrive before dawn.
Cat woke in the middle of the night. Sam snored softly, scrunched into the seat across from her. She untangled herself from her blanket, slipped on her shoes, and made her way to the lavatory. As she passed Hunter’s seat, she saw only his hat and his blanket on the bench. When she left the lavatory, she stepped to the end of the car and opened the door.
Hunter stood at the rail, looking up at the night sky, a thin cigar between his fingers.
Cat closed the door behind her and moved to stand beside him. The horizon was visible only as a line of blackness where the stars ended. She turned and looked across the multitude of tiny lights in the sky. “Why do I see more stars here than at home?”
“The air is dry and clear. There is no haze to block your view.” Hunter crushed out his cheroot and continued to look upward. “Also, there are no streetlights to compete with the stars.”
Cat shivered. “It’s colder too. I didn’t realize the night air would be chilled in the summer.”
Hunter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head and leaned his back against the railcar.
“We will be in Denver in a few hours,” Cat murmured into his chest.
“Oui,” Hunter whispered.
Cat pulled back and looked up into the shadow that covered his face.
He lowered his mouth to hers.
She tasted sweet smoke as his lips brushed hers.
Why did he have to be so stubborn?
Cat pressed her breast against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He took her upper lip in his mouth, then released it to capture her lower lip. His hand cupped the nape of her neck, and he tipped his head to match his mouth to hers. His soft inhale sealed their lips momentarily. He groaned, as though in pain, and pulled her tight against him.
An unfamiliar sensation clutched deep inside Cat. She moaned as his mouth savored hers and pressed her hips against him seeking something she couldn’t name.
Hunter groaned once more, then broke the kiss. He pressed her head against his chest and inhaled deeply.
Cat listened to his heart race. She squeezed her eyes tight and swallowed a hard bit of emotion that clamored for release.
Neither spoke. All that needed to be said had already been laid before them.
When Cat gained control of her emotions, she stepped from Hunter's arms. She raised her hand and caressed the side of his face, down the scar, through the bristle of his unshaven face to his mouth.
He grasped her hand, turned it, and touched his lips to the tender center of her palm. “Good night, Mademoiselle Kline.” He released her hand, tipped his head in a salute, and opened the door.
“Good night, Mr. Veau,” Cat whispered, and returned to her seat.
* * *
Just before sunrise, the train pulled into the Denver station. Cat gathered her things and followed Sam from the train.
On the platform, beside the depot wall, Sam set his bag and blanket down. He pulled a stamped metal luggage claim from his vest.
Hunter joined them and set his carpetbag beside Sam’s. “I’ll get the trunks if you procure the wagon, mon ami.”
Sam nodded and handed Hunter their metal tab. “Cat, stay with our belongings.”
Cat dipped her head and placed her blanket and bag alongside Hunter’s.
The men disappeared in different directions—Hunter, down the platform toward the luggage car, and Sam through the depot toward the street.
Cat organized their luggage into a neat pile and watched the people depart the train. Before long, she spotted Hunter as he walked alongside a uniformed porter. The porter pushed a wheeled cart piled high with their trunks.
When they reached Cat, Hunter loaded their carpetbag to the cart and took Cat’s arm. “This way, petit chat.” He escorted her around the side of the depot and down a ramp to the street.
Travelers with their luggage, and a line of wagons and hansom cabs filled the curb in front of the train depot.
Sam spoke to the driver of a two-seat wagon.
As she and Hunter approached, Sam waved at the porter to bring the luggage to the back of the wagon.
Hunter assisted Cat onto the rear bench as Sam helped the porter load the trunks. Hunter spoke briefly to Sam, then pulled himself onto the bench beside Cat.
Sam tipped the porter and climbed beside the driver. “The Wagon Wheel Hotel, near Colfax and Park.”
The driver nodded. “I know the place.” He shook the reins and they pulled into traffic.
At the hotel, a sleepy night clerk assigned each of the travelers a room and handed them keys. He rang a bell on the desk, and a man appeared from the next room and took charge of unloading their luggage from the wagon.
“You’re in room eight, Cat.” Sam handed her a key. “I’ll pay the driver and have the bellhop deliver your luggage.”
“What room do you have?” Cat glanced at Hunter as her brother checked his key fob, but Hunter had his back to her as he spoke with the driver.
“I’m in room 12 upstairs.” Sam replied.
“All right, then. Good night.”
Cat found her room and waited for the bellhop. As soon as he departed, she closed and locked the door. The small room had everything she needed—a washbasin and a bed.
She shed her travel-worn garments and made quick use of the water and soap on the dresser. She pulled on a nightgown and plucked the pins from her hair, scratching her fingers deep against the scalp. With a promise she would seek out the bathing facility when she woke, she pulled back the heavy down coverlet and crawled into the soft bed.
Hunger woke her. She clambered from the bed and reluctantly dressed in clean clothes from her trunk.
Sometime today, I shall find a bathtub.
A knock at her door interrupted her toilette as she brushed the tangles from her hair. She opened the door and smiled at her brother. “Good morning.”
Sam waited in the hallway dressed in tan trousers and jacket with a dark vest and white shirt. “You should have asked who knocked,” Sam scolded, mock anger in his blue-gray eyes.
Cat returned to her hair. “I knew it was you.” She twisted it onto her head and secured the bun with hairpins.
“Because you can see through doors?” Sam rubbed at the four-day old bristle on his chin and raised an eyebrow.
“Because I’m hungry, which means you must be starved. I expected you.”
“There’s a restaurant down the street that serves breakfast and lunch. The time is right for either.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Are you about ready?”
“I am.” Cat picked up her reticule.
“After breakfast, we’ll go to the address I have for Jason Harris. The Marshal’s office indicated he may be at his ranch, but I should check the town address first.” He followed her down the hallway and out the door to the street.
“You can check the address without me. I heard the night clerk mention a bathing room attached to the hotel. I fully intend make use of a tub after we eat.”
“Hunter’s going to the house with me.”
Cat stopped and turned to her brother. “Why do you say that?” She felt the heat in her cheeks.
Dash it! How does he know?
Sam stopped and looked back at his sister with a wide grin. “I'm trained to observe. Did you think I wouldn’t notice after four days confined with you two on a train?”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Cat advanced on her brother.
Sam shrugged as they resumed walking. “I’m not your father—and I trust Hunter.”
“You trust him and not me?” Cat threw a snide glance at Sam. “I thought you were only acquainted with him. How well do you know Hunter?”
“Well enough, Cat. He's a good man.” Sam opened the door to the small restaurant. Arriving between breakfast and lunch, they had their choice of seats. Sam hung his hat on a peg by the door and escorted Cat to the back of the establishment. He pulled out her chair, and then sat with his back to the wall.
Both Cat and Sam ordered the breakfast omelet.
After the waitress left their table, Cat grinned and whispered to Sam. “I’ve grown quite fond of Hunter.” Relieved she could speak of her affection lifted her heart and made every possibility more real.
“I like him, too.” Sam smiled at his sister’s enthusiasm. After a moment, his smile dimmed, and his eyes became solemn. “I would hate to see him get hurt.”
“Don’t say that.” Cat sat back and shook her head. “I would never do anything to hurt Hunter.”
“You may not intend him harm.” Sam thanked the waitress who set water on their table. “A young woman might not realize how much a man cares for her, or how her actions could—make him suffer.”
Cat’s brow furrowed as she stared at her brother.
This isn’t about me at all.
He took a sip of water and looked away.
“Who was she?” Cat asked, her voice heavy with sympathy.
His gaze returned to his sister. “I’m not talking about me.”
Cat narrowed her eyes. “I think, perhaps, you are.”
“It doesn’t matter. My point is Hunter doesn’t receive a great deal of attention from women. Especially not from beautiful young girls like yourself.” Sam straightened as the waitress approached with their plates. “Just be sure how you feel about him.”
The waitress slid their plates onto the table in front of them. “Anything else?” She glanced from Cat to Sam.
“No, thank you,” Sam replied, and picked up his napkin.
Cat watched the waitress return to the front of the restaurant to seat new guests. “This is not an infatuation, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Sam swallowed his first bite of omelet and leaned forward, knife and fork in hand. “I think you may be too young to judge. You’re just out of school.”
“Now you do sound like a father.” Cat cut her omelet and glared at Sam. “Can I at least remain at the hotel while you chase after that Harris man?”
Sam swallowed and shook his head. “No. You’ll come with me.”
“Fine.” Cat popped a piece of egg in her mouth.
“We won’t be gone more than a few days. I only need to speak with Mr. Harris about his involvement in what appears to be a financial swindle run by an investment firm out of Boston.” Sam cut another piece from his omelet. “Hunter will be busy with his own affairs while we’re gone.”
After they finished eating, Sam paid for their meal, and they walked back to the hotel in silence.
* * *