Promise Me Texas (A Whispering Mountain Novel) (2 page)

But how? Even if she could cross between the cars to the mail car, they wouldn’t let her in. The door was bolted solid. Behind her, only cattle cars followed. No one would hear a shot in the storm, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to hang on if she tried to cross over the top of the mail car.

In the last flash of light from the water tower’s lantern, she saw the broad-shouldered man in black take a few steps up to the roof of the mail car. He and his friend had made it over the freight car’s roof without her even hearing them. He pulled on the arm of what seemed the younger of the two robbers as if trying to pull him down but was ignored. He tried once more to draw the other man back against a course already set. The younger one shook his head and jerked away, vanishing into the night.

She thought she heard the one left behind yell, “Ryan, no!” but his cry was lost in the wind.

The one called Ryan would be moving to the engine, she reasoned. He’d stop the train at gunpoint, and then the others would move from car to car, robbing and killing anyone who tried to stop them.

As the train picked up speed, Beth noticed several horses being held by a shadow rider fifty yards from the track. They looked half-wild and in poor condition, except for a pinto with front stockings that almost bolted from the others, giving the handler fits. The horses finally galloped in the same direction as the train. They wouldn’t be able to keep up for long, but all they had to do was follow the tracks to find where the robbers had stopped the train.

Holding Brandy Blue’s neck, Beth tried to think of what to do. She closed her eyes, remembering who she’d seen on the train when she’d walked through looking for Lamont. Three passenger coaches. The first had four or five salesmen with their wares and a couple of gamblers passing the time with card tricks.

The second coach held families. One couple with a tiny baby. Another with two boys small enough to use a bench as a bed. She thought there was a third couple, but she couldn’t remember how many children. Sprawled near the doors, cowhands slept, probably heading to Dallas to work the trains going east.

The third car housed Lamont and the army officers.

Assuming all the men were armed, the passengers outnumbered the robbers, but the bandits had surprise on their side.

They might never make it to her. Surely even the drunk soldiers around Lamont would fight. But if the robbers made it to the mail car and broke in, one of the gang was bound to notice her position. Any light would show her outline next to the horse.

The old conductor had complained that this run wasn’t making any money hauling folks or stock, so they had to be after whatever was in the strongbox.

Beth moved, feeling her way in the darkness. She checked the railing against her horse. She wanted him boxed in if the train came to a quick stop. She’d known even as a child that the horses had to be taken care of first. Her father was a powerful rancher who’d never raised his voice to his daughters, but one lift of his eyebrow would send all three back into the barn to finish brushing down their mounts or make sure they’d stored everything correctly. Now, his attention to detail might save her life.

The train was traveling slower than usual because of the storm. Even without robbers onboard, they were all in danger. She might be able to jump and roll free from the train at this speed, but she couldn’t risk Brandy Blue and she wouldn’t leave him. Lamont had wanted them to ride back to her ranch together after they’d married and spent a few days in Dallas. As soon as he got to know her family better, he’d hinted that they might settle in Austin.

She knew now that he ultimately meant to take her away from Texas. Away from her home. Away from all she’d ever known and loved.

Closing her eyes, Beth fought down fear. Lamont and his men were right. She was an idiot. If the robbers thought she was a man, they’d probably shoot her on sight. If they discovered she was a woman traveling alone or that her last name was McMurray, they might hold her for ransom, or worse.

Slowly, she straightened. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Moving to the front of the car, Beth tried to guess how far they were away from town. Halfway. More. It was hard to tell.

Silently, she slipped onto the platform between the cars and struggled to see around the mail car without getting soaked. Knowing the six bandits were somewhere up front, maybe already in the passenger coaches, maybe riding between or above, waiting, made Beth’s blood cold.

Carefully, she leaned around the edge one more time, hoping to see the lights of a town. Wind and rain splattered against her face and knocked her hat backward. Beth closed her eyes and smiled, remembering something her papa had told her about facing trouble head-on no matter the storm. He’d said buffalo face the storm, and McMurrays were every bit as stubborn as buffalo.

Just as she pulled back into the blackness, the train seemed to buck in the wind, like a toy being tossed. Brakes squealed in a panicked cry and the cars shook violently.

Beth fought to keep her balance as the train left the tracks. Car after car slammed into one another.

Like the wing of a giant bird, something flew over her, turning the night another layer of midnight as strong arms circled her from behind. A moment later she was airborne, as if flying away from danger.

She heard boards splintering like twigs as whoever held her twisted so that his body hit the ground first. The jar of impact knocked her against the hard wall of his chest. Her scream blended with Brandy Blue’s cry. Something hit her head as the man holding her rolled across the rocky ground with her tucked into his arms.

A moment before she blacked out, Beth realized that she wasn’t facing a train robbery, but a train wreck. The broad-shouldered man she’d thought she might have to kill may have just saved her life.

CHAPTER 2

T
HE FIRST HINT OF DAWN TURNED THE EASTERN SKY A
dusty pink as Beth awoke. Soft rain brushed her cheek, blending with warm blood. The man was still lying next to her, his black leather coat wrapped around them both, but he was no longer holding her. He didn’t move.

Stretching, she twisted until she saw his face. A strong unshaven jaw, brown hair, and blood. It poured in tiny rivers from his head and neck. Rain smeared the stranger’s blood over his face like a mask.

Tugging her hand free of the coat, she brushed away the hair covering his eyes and saw several cuts. One zigzagged across his forehead and into his hair. Another, just below his eye, pumped blood out with each heartbeat, and another slashed from the corner of his ear to his collarbone. All looked troublesome, maybe deadly.

He’d risked his life for hers, and she had no idea who he was or why he’d done such a brave thing.

The hit to the ground must have knocked him out cold, but she had to push hard to break free. Something primal, beyond thought, made him hold to her.

“I’ll get you help,” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “I promise, I’ll be back. I won’t leave you here.”

As she stood, she moved the coat over him. It would do little good in the rain, but even wet, the leather would keep away the wind. Brushing her hair back, she felt the thin cut above her ear. The slouch hat was gone and most of her hair had come loose from her braid, but Beth barely noticed as dawn crawled across the clearing, revealing the chaos before her.

Twenty feet away, the stock car had shattered like a flimsy box being dropped. Two sides lay on the ground and Brandy Blue stood, all four feet planted wide in the buffalo grass. Beth ignored the pain in her limbs as she ran toward her horse. He seemed content to nibble on the grass as she ran her hands along his body.

“Not a scratch,” she whispered as she hugged him. “We survived.”

He nudged her away as if bothered by her show of affection.

Beth smiled, gave him one last pat, and ran toward the wreckage.

Her car and the two hauling cattle were scattered on one side of the tracks; the others had tumbled on the opposite side. Steam still belched in gray smoke from the engine like dying breaths from a huge beast.

She felt like she was walking through a dream. A misty rain cloaked it all in a foggy reality as if trying to buffer the shock. Bleeding and crying people moved among broken pieces of the train and luggage scattered all around.

The mail car was on its side with army officers circling it. None looked badly hurt. A few had bruises. One stood guard with his arm in a sling. All seemed to have sobered to their duty.

Lamont was nowhere in sight. She crossed on through the wreckage, checking on all she passed. Somehow, in one moment, these strangers had become her tribe, her people. All, like her, battered but moving.

One of the gamblers in the front car was dead. His body lay in a twisted angle that unbroken bones would not have allowed. Everyone was busy with those still living, but Beth took a moment to kneel and close the gambler’s eyes. “Go in peace,” she whispered, almost reading his life in the wrinkles of his face. He’d survived the battles of war like most men his age had, but he’d lost his family or maybe abandoned them for the adventure out west. From his worn boots and tattered suit, she guessed his life as a gambler hadn’t been easy.

Five feet away, the conductor knelt with a man who looked like a salesman. They were working on the other gambler, but Beth saw death in his stare. They were wasting their time. The man’s flashy silk vest seemed to be dripping blood.

When the conductor rocked back on his heels in defeat, the salesman began to pray over the dead man.

Without being asked any question, the conductor looked up at Beth and said as calmly as if they were just passing time, “The engineer and two other men are dead, still trapped in the engine’s cab. I’ll deal with the living first, then get them out. You all right, miss?”

She nodded, trying to take in everything she saw at once. A thin, twisted shadow inside the blackened engine reminded her of the robber who’d insisted on climbing.

The conductor stood, trying to wipe away blood from his hands. “We’ve telegraphed up the line for help.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it. By my count we’ve got more bodies than passengers. Did you see your man on the train before the wreck?”

She nodded, fighting the urge to tell him that Lamont wasn’t her man.

“That’s good. The army has accounted for all their people, even the one in the mail car. I think we’ve got the gamblers and salesmen in the count, but I’m not sure how many cowpokes were on the train sleeping. Now that I know you and your husband made it, that’s two less to worry about.”

“I found him.” She lied so easily, the words took her breath for a moment. “We were tossed on the other side of the tracks. He’s hurt bad.”

The conductor nodded. “We’ll get to him as soon as we can. This fellow knows a little about medicine.” He patted the salesman on the shoulder. “If your man is hurt, we’ll make sure he’s in the first group to head for town.”

The salesman moved on to the next man crying for help while the old conductor leaned back, looking lost. “The extras we got must have boarded the train illegally; I figure that makes them robbers. I asked the station to send a sheriff. We’ll let him sort them.” He motioned with his head. “Four are over there. They’re all hurt bad or already dead like the one trapped in the engine. They must have been caught between the cars or on top. One of the army officers is guarding them while a few passengers try to save them for hanging.”

Beth moved toward the engine. In the stillness, she thought she heard horses a hundred yards away in the trees. Standing still, she watched the lone rider pulling saddled horses away. He was leaving his comrades to face their fate. By the time anyone else noticed, he would be too far away to arrest even if they had men on horseback willing to chase. Most of the mounts vanishing into the fog were little more than shadows moving in the trees, but she thought she saw the stocking legs of the pinto she’d seen earlier when the train stopped for water.

Beth crossed to the men scattered near the engine. Every part of her wanted to turn and run. In three minutes she could be back with Brandy Blue and riding. No one would catch her, and no one knew her name to tell the sheriff.

Once he came, she’d have to give all her information, including why she was on the train. The story would make the news. Wild, rich Beth McMurray was acting a fool. Those who knew her would shake their heads. Those who knew Lamont would probably feel sorry for her even if she was a fool. But all would believe any story written about her.

She saw Lamont’s gray greatcoat, now splattered with blood, tossed into the burned grass beside the wreck. Lamont was sitting up, trying to stop blood from dripping down his face. He swore and complained to the couple trying to help him.

Beth held her breath as she walked behind him. His cut looked to be no more than a scratch. Lamont would live, but without her. She wanted no part of him, and he was too absorbed in his aches to notice anyone else.

A baby’s hungry cry caught her attention as she walked around the couple offering Lamont water. They both looked battered, but alive, unlike the four men lying near a worthless fire someone had tried to build with wet wood.

These were the robbers, she thought, noticing that each still wore a red bandanna. A soldier stood guard, but none looked in any shape to try to escape. Maybe he’d built the fire, but he hadn’t offered care. All were too far gone to even cry out for help.

If there was one more in the cab, then the last of the outlaws lay across the track where she’d left him. He’d saved her life. She couldn’t let him be hauled into town to hang.

Walking back toward the stranger, Beth found her saddlebags lying amid the rubble. By the time she reached the man in black who’d rescued her, she’d already begun to tear her wedding dress into bandages.

He hadn’t budged and she wondered if there were wounds she hadn’t noticed. Kneeling, she moved her hands along his body, feeling for the warmth of blood or a broken bone. Nothing. His body was lean and powerful. Strong enough to take the blow when they jumped from the train, she guessed. He was dressed in black except for the bandanna.

Carefully, she began to wrap his forehead, trying to pull the wound together as best as she could.

The cut below his eye still bled, but there was no way to close it without stitches. Beth had seen her aunt stitch men up, but she’d never attempted such a thing. There was always someone else around who knew more or would be better at the task of doctoring.

Removing the red bandanna from her broad-shouldered savior, she tossed it aside and wrapped the silk of her expensive wedding dress around the stranger’s throat. She knew little of doctoring. Her simple plan was to slow the bleeding until they could get him to town.

The rain had stopped by the time she’d finished, but the stranger still hadn’t moved. He looked pale as if already half gone to the grave. Most of his face was covered with a bandage below his eye, but she saw strong features.

When she straightened to move away, his hand locked around her arm. “Stay with me, Hannah,” he whispered. “Lie with me for a while. Don’t leave me yet.”

His voice was deep, dreamlike, but his hold on her was iron.

Beth knew she should pull away. He’d lost a great deal of blood and she’d done all she could for him.

But she didn’t. She owed this man. Who or what he was didn’t matter. In the split second before the train crashed, he’d chosen to save her. If he hadn’t, she might be smashed between the cars like some of the others.

Edging in beside him, she felt his arm circle her and pull her close. Then he stilled, as if all he’d wanted was her near.

She pulled the coat over them both as the rain started again. Two days without sleep and the rush of adrenaline from the wreck all worked together. Bethie McMurray, proper young lady and heiress to the McMurray fortune, slept next to a total stranger.