Phebe stared out the window, doing her best to appear completely absorbed by the passing scenery. The beautiful and rugged Sierra Nevadas separated the states of Nevada and California, and Phebe was excited to finally be able to see them. She’d spoken about them to the students in her geography class at Madam Wigg’s school ever since she’d first nervously stood in front of more than a dozen expectant little faces and had opened a textbook.

But those days were behind her, and new students would be waiting for her just as soon as the train left these mountains to make its descent toward the Pacific Ocean. Phebe looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She suddenly wished she could stop the forward movement of the engine so she’d have more time to think.

Saying goodbye to her friends days ago at the train station in New York had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. They’d clung to each other as if they’d been going off to the gallows instead of a new adventure in their lives. She’d done her best to console Nellie, promised Quinlan she’d write when she could, and given Olivia a heartfelt hug that Phebe was sure would have to last them both a lifetime.

And now here she was. Alone on a train, headed for a city she’d only read about in books, and not knowing a single soul within a thousand miles. Unless of course she counted the father and brother who’d left to find the family fortune twenty-five years ago.

Since Daniel Johnson had never returned for his wife and unborn child, Phebe had never met the man, so she didn’t think he would count as someone she knew. Especially since she hadn’t even known his name until Madam Wigg had handed her a paper written out in a shaky hand. Phebe had wordlessly stared at the two names printed on it as the head of the only place she’d ever called home had told her the first name belonged to her father.

Writing those words was the last thing her mother had done before she’d died, struggling to bring her only daughter into the world. That single scrap of paper had come with Phobia when the midwife attending the birth had dropped the newborn off at the orphanage. Madam Wigg had kept it locked away all these years, waiting for the time when, as Madam had explained during their private meeting in her sitting room, Phebe would be ready to go on her own adventure and might need it.

Drawing in a long breath, Phebe focused on the wild vista of craggy rock walls and towering trees rushing by just a few yards from where she was sitting. She certainly had embarked on a new adventure now. She knew that she’d need all her courage and composure to face difficult situations. Like the one that was reflected in the glass of the window.

The man was tall, with broad shoulders and moss-green eyes. Phebe had made a point of getting a good look at him when she’d left the passenger car for a few minutes at the Cheyenne station. She’d noticed him before because no matter where she sat, he seemed to be only a row or two away.

She’d told herself repeatedly that she was being fanciful because of the emotional parting from her friends, and the stranger wasn’t really following her about. Until she’d left the car to stretch her legs and happened to glance behind her.

There he’d been, standing close enough for her to see the vivid color of his eyes, but not so near that he could easily speak to her. When she’d once again boarded the train and settled herself into a different seat, he’d done the same thing. And a time or two, he’d smiled when he’d caught her sneaking a peek at him.

Determined to act as if she weren’t aware of the man’s existence, Phebe reached into her patchwork travel bag and pulled out a book on mining techniques that Imogene, one of the other teachers at the school, had given her before leaving to start her own new life. Opening it, Phebe glued her eyes to the page and pretended to read.

It wasn’t long before she heard boot steps, followed by the creak of the bench facing hers. Shifting her eyes a bit, she saw the tips of polished boots before her gaze skittered back to her book. She lifted it until her face was hidden behind the cover and turned the page with shaking fingers.

She’d flipped over two more pages, and was contemplating changing seats again, when the man sitting across from her coughed. Her eyes automatically lifted over the edge of the book and met his. She couldn’t miss the amusement dancing in them, or his lips twitching as he clearly fought to suppress a smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” His voice was low and as rich as melted butter. “Are you enjoying your book?”

Not at all sure what the proper protocol was for talking to strange men on trains, Phebe nodded before dropping her gaze again. She couldn’t recognize even one word on the page, but she pressed her lips together and turned it anyway, keeping up her pretense of reading.

“I assume you’ve read that book before?”

Taken by surprise, Phebe looked up again and frowned. “Why would you assume that?”

He put her completely off guard when he grinned, showing two dimples on either side of a wide mouth and a set of beautiful white teeth. “At the rate you’ve been turning those pages, I’d guess you already know what’s written on them.” He nodded at her and removed the broad-brimmed hat he was wearing, setting it down on the hard bench seat next to him. “I apologize for my poor manners. But we’ll be in Sacramento late this afternoon, and after that San Francisco. I think it’s past time I introduced myself.”

“Why is that, sir?” Phebe asked.

“Because I’m supposed to be escorting you there.”

“Escorting me . . . ?” Both puzzled and alarmed, Phebe lowered her hands until the book she held in them was resting in her lap. “What do you mean?”

His smile broadened. “I mean I was asked to be sure you arrived safely in San Francisco. I’m doing a favor for a friend.”

She blinked at him, her dark-brown eyes showing a hint of alarm. “And does your friend have a name?”

“Adam Frommer.”

Phebe’s eyebrows drew together, and her nose wrinkled as she thought that over. The two pieces of paper in her small reticule suddenly felt like lead. Along with the scrap from her mother was the telegram from well, Phebe supposed, her future sister-in-law. While Caroline Frommer had stressed the need for the wedding to take place as soon as possible, she’d given little information about the man Phebe was going to marry. Whose name wasn’t Adam.

“I’ve never heard of an Adam Frommer,” she finally said cautiously.

The stranger looked surprised for the briefest moment before his features relaxed again into an easy smile. “Adam is married to Caroline, and he has a sister, Christa, and a brother, Henry. Do any of those names sound familiar?” Something in her expression must have told him they did because he nodded again. “I’m Jesse Winthrop, by the way. And I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Johnson.”

“Wigg,” Phebe immediately corrected. “My name is Phebe Wigg.”

Jesse shifted in his seat and studied her for a moment. “Adam told me your last name was Johnson.”

“My father’s name was Johnson,” Phebe clarified. “Daniel Johnson. But I’ve never met him, so I prefer to keep the name I was given at birth. Phebe Wigg.”

“I see.” Jesse said the words slowly, drawing them out. “Is that a story you’d care to share?”

Her back stiffened slightly as Phebe took her turn studying him. “No, I wouldn’t. Why would Mrs. Frommer’s husband send you as an escort? We were informed that train travel is quite safe.”

Seeming to accept her pointed change in subject, Jesse leaned against the unforgiving back of his seat. “It might be in the East. But west of the Rockies, it’s better if you have an escort.”

Genuinely curious to learn whatever she could about her new home, Phebe tilted her head to the side. “Why is that, Mr. Winthrop?”

He smiled. “Please, call me Jesse. We’re also a little more informal west of the Rockies.” He gave her a considering look. “There are a lot more men out here than women, Phebe Wigg. And some aren’t too particular about a wife, or how they obtain one.”

She could feel the heat rising in her face. With her plain brown hair and dark eyes, Phebe knew she was no beauty. She’d always been an ordinary-looking girl, and she’d grown into an ordinary-looking woman. But her supposed escort didn’t need to be so blunt to point out that the only way she’d get a husband was to come out west, where the men weren’t so picky.

“I was tasked to deliver you to Adam in one piece,” Jesse went on, obviously unconcerned about Phebe’s sudden lapse into silence. “I’ve had you in my sight since the Cedar Rapids station, but you looked as if you needed a bit of time to yourself.”

Jesse’s voice had dropped lower, and the soft note of sympathy in it had Phebe’s eyes tearing up. She quickly turned her face away, concentrating on the scenery passing rapidly by outside the window.

“Thank you. That was very kind of you.” When he chuckled, she looked back at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Kind isn’t a word I’m used to hearing,” he admitted. “Care to tell me why you’re going to San Francisco?” When she hesitated, he sighed. “We still have a long ride in front of us, Miss Wigg. And I’ll admit, I’m curious.”

Surprised that anyone would travel so far without knowing why, Phebe frowned. “Didn’t Mr. Frommer tell you the reason he was asking you to do him this favor?”

“No.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Phebe clutched her reticule just a little tighter. That seemed very odd to her. “If I tell you, will you answer a question for me?”

He shrugged. “If I can.”

Settling for that, Phebe relaxed. “I’m a teacher, and I intend to start a school, with the help of my husband, for children who have lost their parents to the mines.” She paused for a moment. “Or were abandoned there.”

The eyes watching her grew a deeper shade of green as Jesse’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “Yeah. I’m afraid that happens.” He gave a slow glance around the passenger car. “You mentioned a husband. Where is he?”

“In San Francisco, but we aren’t married yet. I’m going to marry Henry Frommer. And then we’ll be moving to some land in the mountains near the mining communities. That’s where we’ll build our school.”

For the first time, Phebe would have sworn she saw a moment of shock on Jesse’s face.

“Henry Frommer,” he repeated. “You’re sure the man’s name is Henry Frommer?”

A niggle of alarm wormed its way into Phebe’s mind. Jesse was looking at her with a good deal of disbelief in his gaze, and she had no idea what to make of that. Was there something terribly wrong with Henry? Was that why Caroline Frommer had sent the telegram to Madam Wigg asking about any teacher who was available to marry, and offering to fund a new school, as well as purchase all the supplies it would need?

“You sound . . .” Phebe searched for the right words. “As if you don’t believe me.”

Jesse quickly held up a hand. “No, no. I’m sure you’ve come all this way to marry Henry.”

When she bit her lower lip, he gave her a reassuring smile. “I wasn’t expecting to hear that, is all. Henry never said . . .” He stopped and covered whatever else he’d been about to say with a sudden cough. “Henry’s a good man. He’s smart, healthy, and has a great curiosity about the world, which should appeal to a teacher.” Jesse grinned. “And I’ve never seen any woman take one look at him and run away screaming with fright, so I’d say he’s presentable enough.”

Phebe let out the breath she’d been holding. At least he hadn’t said Henry drank too much, or spent all his money and time at a gaming table. Phebe had read many men out west gave in to those vices.

The man sitting across from her leaned forward slightly. “Thank you for telling me why you’re headed out west. Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?”

Reminded of her earlier request, Phebe nodded. “Why would your friend send you on such a lengthy journey without giving you his reasons for it?”

“He didn’t need to,” Jesse quickly answered. “You might say that we do a lot of our business on blind trust.”

“What business would that be, Mr. Winthrop?”

“Jesse,” he corrected with a smile. “And we’re both speculators. It’s a kind of investor.”

Not quite satisfied with that, Phebe pursed her lips. “What do you invest in?”

“Many different things, Miss Wigg.” He pointed toward the window. “Looks like we’re heading down out of the mountains. We’ll be in Sacramento soon.”