Behind a Lady's Smile (8 page)

Mitch stood, his face pale, the lines around his mouth deep. Genny had never seen that expression on any man before and didn’t know what to make of it. He walked toward the man, his hand extended. “Drop the rifle and she’ll let you live.”

To Genny’s relief, the man sighed and set the rifle down, swearing beneath his breath. Mitch quickly took up the gun and pointed it at the would-be robber.

“On your knees. And put your hands behind your back. Genny, you use Mr. Pitsley’s tie and bind his wrists.” Mr. Pitsley, the man Mitch had been playing cribbage with the day before, quickly took off his tie and handed it to Genny.

“You said you’d let me go,” the outlaw said, outraged.

“And I will. But right now I trust you about as much as I trust a rattlesnake. Hands behind your back or I swear you’ll be limping all the way home with a hole in your leg.”

“Alright, alright.”

The man put his hands behind his back and Genny quickly tied them, pulling tightly and making him curse again. When she was done, Mitch handed the rifle to the nearest passenger and hauled the robber up to his feet. “How many others are there?”

A man’s voice from outside called, “Jake, where the hell are you? You know Bobby doesn’t want us messin’ with the passengers. Get your ass on out here before he finds out, you sorry bastard.”

“Ah, one of your friends.” Mitch bent over and looked out the window and smiled grimly. “You best get a move on. If I’m not mistaken, looks like you boys are about to get some company.” The man looked out the window and swore. On the opposite side of the train where his buddy was waiting, a large cloud of dust was rising up, and in the middle of that cloud were several men on horseback.

“Someone ratted us out,” the man said, giving Mitch a look of desperation.

A general cheer rose up from the train when the men on horseback came into view.

“Shit,” the man said, and then he repeated that word when he saw the small, blonde woman standing behind him wielding a menacing cane. Genny smiled and Mitch’s heart near exploded from his chest. He didn’t really care when the man, his hands still tied, made a dash for the back of the train and the still-open door. He heard what sounded like a man falling face first into the dust. But all he saw was Genny standing there smiling at him as if she’d just had the most fun a person could have. He wanted to shake her for doing something so dangerous. When he’d seen her come up behind the robber, he’d just about died, literally feeling the blood drain from his head. He’d heard of such a thing but never felt it, not even in those terrible months in the War Between the States when he’d been just a kid.

And so, he took two strides to her, put his hands on her shoulders and did give her a little shake. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, right before pulling her hard into his arms and burying his face against her hair. She was trembling, but she clung to him as if what she’d done had just hit her. He pulled back to see if she was okay, to make sure he didn’t see terror in her eyes. He wasn’t even really aware of what he was doing when he bent his head and kissed her, hard and long and probably a bit too intimately, given they had quite an audience. When he raised his head, there she was, smiling up at him again.

“It worked,” she said, then laughed a bit shakily.

He stepped back, feeling a bit shaky himself, but for an entirely different reason. He’d thought they had an audience, but the passengers, their noses pressed to the windows, were watching as one by one the robbers—five of them—were caught. A collective cheer rose up when the conductor appeared to talk to the lawmen, who handed over heavy canvas bags of what Mitch guessed was gold.

Mitch grabbed Genny’s hand and pulled her back to their seats. He suddenly felt weak, and he wasn’t certain his legs could carry his weight much longer.

“You were wonderful, my dear,” Mrs. Walsh said, then turned to her husband, who looked a bit under the weather. “Wasn’t she wonderful? And you, too, Mr. Campbell. You were both so brave.”

Mitch nodded, but neither spoke. They sat there, still holding hands, and stared straight ahead for a long while.

“You kissed me.” This said when the train began moving to the cheers of the happy and relieved passengers.

“So I did.” He shifted away and dropped her hand. “Doesn’t mean anything. Just was glad you didn’t get yourself killed. Won’t happen again.”

“Okay.” And damned if those two little syllables weren’t filled with a trunkful of disappointment.

“Listen,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’m your escort. Just that. Okay?”

She was silent for a long time, her cheeks flushed. “I thought you were my friend, too.”

Friend. Hell, if it was up to him, they’d be far more than friends. But it wasn’t up to him. They had no future. None. “We are friends. I lost my head is all. I saw you do a dang foolish thing and then you were smiling as if it was nothing, as if you couldn’t have been killed, and I kissed you. That’s all.”

He wasn’t looking at her but he could tell from his peripheral vision that she was looking at him. “I liked the second kiss better than the first.”

He snapped his head around again and there she was smiling at him again. “You remember that, do you?”

She nodded, her eyes lowering to his mouth. Hell and damnation, if she kept looking at him like that he’d have to kiss her again. And he didn’t want to. Didn’t want things to get complicated. Didn’t like the way his gut was churning, and other parts of his body were reacting. Didn’t like that his heart was expanding in his chest.

“Well, you best get both out of your mind ’cause it’s not happening again.” He settled back into his seat and leaned against the window as if he were about to take a nap, which was highly unlikely given the adrenalin still coursing through his body and the carnal thoughts running through his mind.

“That’s too bad,” she said finally. “It was rather lovely.”

He ignored her, pretended to have fallen into a deep sleep. What the heck was he going to do with her? He’d never been one to fall for a girl. Sure, he’d had a few lady friends back in New York, but none had ever made him want to scream in frustration and pure joy the way Genny did. Surely there must be something annoying about her. He just had to figure it out and focus on that. Not her hair. It was soft and long and he liked the way it smelled. And she was pretty. So he couldn’t find fault with her appearance. She made him laugh, and her voice, with that cultured English accent, was soothing and gentle, like a spring rain. He nearly snorted aloud, then, which would have ruined his ruse of sleeping. She let out a sigh. Genny did tend to sigh. A lot. It was getting annoying. If he counted the number of sighs she let out, concentrated on that, he might not think about everything else that wasn’t annoying.

She sighed again and laid her head against his shoulder. Damn, that felt nice.

“Your head is too heavy on my shoulder.”

She immediately straightened. “Sorry. I’m just suddenly so sleepy. All the excitement, I suppose. You certainly seem tired.”

“Listen, Genevieve,” he whispered harshly so the other passengers wouldn’t hear him, “I’m taking you to England and dropping you off with your grandparents and I’ll never see you again. Understand? I’m not your husband and I’m not even your beau. I’m nothing but a man who got himself in a gnarly situation and is trying to figure out a solution. So I don’t need your little sighs and your pretty green eyes looking at me like, well, like you shouldn’t.”

She looked confused and he suddenly had the urge to kiss her again, which made him so mad he had to get away. Or kiss her again. So he stood up and headed to the men’s washroom at the end of the car, leaving Genny behind, no doubt hurt and probably a bit angry.

He went to the basin and splashed cold water on his face, looking up and not recognizing the man he saw in the mirror. “Get a grip, man,” he told his reflection. He scrubbed his face dry, moving aside as another gentleman entered the small room.

“Your wife is the most daring woman I’ve ever seen, sir,” the man gushed. “Why, I thought we’d be robbed and killed for certain. Imagine, having the courage to wield a cane and pretend it was a gun.”

“She’s got more courage in her little finger than most men do in their entire body, that’s true,” Mitch said, feeling that ridiculous swelling in his heart again. Who knew he’d be so quick to go all soft over a woman?

“I thank you both. As do the other passengers.” The man held out his hand to Mitch, and the two men shook.

When Mitch went back to his seat, Genny had removed herself to the small parlor area, where she was talking to several other women. No doubt they were thanking her and reliving the events. No doubt they thought she was one hell of a woman.

And, damn, they’d be right.

G
enny’s actions were the talk of the train. As she sat there with the women of their car, visitors from other parts of the train came and listened to the story again and again. It seemed that the more times the story was told, the more heroic she became and Genny found herself trying to calm the women, to let them know the only reason she’d done what she’d done was because the outlaw had been holding a rifle on Mitch. Truthfully, she hadn’t given the other passengers a thought, a fact that now made her feel a bit guilty given the accolades she was receiving.

She would have told them that if she hadn’t been so very angry and confused by the man. Granted, that first kiss had been her idea and her fault, and she had been a bit tipsy at the time. More than a bit, she admitted to herself. But that second kiss, the one that made her toes curl and her stomach all strange, well that had been all Mitch. And it had been rather thrilling. It had been “nothing,” he’d said. Well, it hadn’t been nothing to her. It had tilted her world on end, made her see Mitch in a different light, made her realize that kissing a man was wonderful and stirring. Made her think of herself as a woman for the first time.

When she’d sat down as the lawmen were capturing the train robbers, still holding Mitch’s hand, it hadn’t been the excitement of catching the outlaw that had stunned her to silence, it had been that kiss. Although she’d slept beside Mitch for days, snuggling by him for warmth, never in all that time had she
seen
him. Or truly seen herself. He was Mitch, a man who’d saved her, who’d agreed to take her to London. A friend and companion. But suddenly, he was a man. It was all so confusing.

Having grown up in a cabin far removed from society, she had no experience in trying to attract a husband. She found out soon enough that this was a common topic of conversation for most women. They talked about their daughters, their sons, their grandchildren, and many times the focus of their conversation was whether this one would marry that one or that one would be happy with the other one. It was as if she’d entered a foreign world where she didn’t know the rules. It was easy to break the rules when one didn’t know what they were.

“You’ve grown quiet, dear,” Mrs. Walsh said.

“I’m just pondering things a bit,” Genny said, looking back to her seat where Mitch now sat reading a periodical.

“They are a confusing lot,” Mrs. Walsh said with a chuckle. “I thought he was going to faint dead away when you came up to that outlaw wielding that cane. Goodness, I’ve never seen a man so white. That’s what love will do, though.”

Love. Bah.
I’m not your husband and I’m not even your beau. I’m nothing but a man who got himself in a gnarly situation . . .
Obviously, she was that “gnarly situation.”

“And that kiss. My knickers nearly caught fire just watching it.”

Genny turned beet red, and Mrs. Walsh laughed. “Oh, my girl, I see that I’ve shocked you.” Indeed, Mrs. Walsh did not seem to be the kind of woman who would say such a thing, but what did Genny know of women? She was just as naïve about them as she was about men.

The porter had come into the car to take their dinner orders, ending the conversation. The two women made their way back to their seats, Genny sitting down at the farthest edge of the couch to avoid touching Mitch. Even that made her sad, but she did it anyway, recalling how grumpy Mitch had been about their close quarters.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, low and gruff.

“I have no idea what you mean.” Genny stared at the porter as if watching a man take dinner orders was vastly interesting.

Before she knew what he was about, Mitch had wrapped a hand around her waist and hauled her snug up against him before removing his arm from her. She looked at him curiously, more confused now about his actions than before.

“I say things sometimes and they come out the wrong way. Like I’m angry or something. I’m not.”

Genny let out a small laugh, for Mitch sounded quite angry at the moment. She lifted a brow and he smiled, sheepishly.

“I want to be mad. Just can’t, not at you at any rate.”

“Good. I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.”

“I never was angry. I was frustrated and more scared than I’ve ever been in my life. Don’t you ever do such a foolish thing like that again, Genny.”

“But it all ended well. The outlaws were caught. No one was hurt.”

He let out a gusty sigh. “You could have been killed. The passengers would have given up their money, sure, but they would have been alive. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“But he was holding his gun on you. And, Mitch, he was going to pull that trigger. Maybe all the passengers would have lived, but I had a terrible feeling he was going to shoot you just for sport. You could have died. I had to do
something
. Besides, if he had stolen all our money, how would we have gotten to England?”

He looked at her then, his eyes burning with something she didn’t understand. It almost looked to her like he wanted to scream but was holding it in. Then he turned his head sharply away and stared at the back of the couch in front of them.

“I’m sorry, Mitch. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but how could I just let him shoot you?” She laid her hand on his forearm and was startled by the knot of muscle she felt, as if he were lifting something impossibly heavy. That’s when she saw that his hand was curled into a fist so tight, his knuckles were stark white. “Mitch, what’s wrong?”

“You . . .” He swallowed hard. “You are never to put my life before yours. I doubt you’ll ever get the chance, but, hell, Genny, I couldn’t live with myself if I thought that’s what you’d been doing and you got hurt. I thought you were saving the others.” He was still staring at the back of the couch, his breathing harsh.

“That was an added benefit,” she said, laughing and hoping he’d smile. But his expression only grew grimmer.

He pressed one hand to his chest and rubbed hard and Genny worried that he might be ill. For a time back in Yosemite, they’d had a neighbor, an old-timer who had taught her father what he needed to know to survive in the wilderness. They’d found old Jake dead in his cabin just a day after he’d been rubbing his chest. Her father had explained that Jake’s heart had simply given out. Mitch was far younger than Jake, but that didn’t mean his heart was strong.

He turned to her, and she saw that his eyes had softened a bit. “I think I just might have to kiss you again, after all,” he said. He looked across the aisle and his expression turned regretful. “But not now. Probably not ever. I’ll come to my senses, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” she said, trying to tamp down the thrill she felt upon hearing his words.

“You’re just impossible, Genny.”

“I don’t mean to be.” She couldn’t help letting her gaze drift down to his mouth. She’d never really noticed a man’s mouth, not that she’d seen that many. Most men she’d known had mustaches and beards and even if they were clean-shaven, she didn’t think she would have taken notice of their mouths. But Mitch’s was rather lovely. Sculpted and masculine, his bottom lip just slightly more full than his top. She heard Mitch let out a low sound and she looked at him and again saw a heat in his gaze. Oh. That’s what that meant; he wanted to kiss her. She thought back to all those looks she hadn’t been able to interpret and was stunned.

“Stop grinning at me. And stop . . . just stop looking at me.”

Genny let out a laugh. “Stop looking at you? That’s going to be a bit difficult in these small quarters.”

“You know what I mean. At least I pray to God and Jesus that you do.” He said the last mostly to himself.

She leaned forward and whispered, “The porter is taking the Walshs’ dinner order. They are quite occupied.” And then she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, feeling daring and wonderful. At first, he didn’t move, but he didn’t pull away, either. And then, he tilted his head, just slightly, and kissed her back, moving his lips in a way that seemed to touch every part of her body—even parts she hadn’t really thought existed.

He pulled back, looking as if he’d just hurt her rather than kissed her. “I can’t keep doing that, Genny. I can’t.”

“It was your idea,” she pointed out, teasing him. “And I really don’t mind. I ought to know how to kiss, oughtn’t I, if I’m going to be married to a prince.”

Mitch’s expression changed subtly, and he dropped his head and let out a small laugh. “Yes, you’re right. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your prince.”

Mitch knew Genny was teasing, but her words couldn’t have been more perfect for a man who was in an epic battle with his heart and his head. Genny was the granddaughter of a duke and he was the illegitimate son of an actress. Even in America, a match between them would be unheard of, and he knew the English were much bigger sticklers about such things. In their world, he figured he wouldn’t even be hired as a servant. And here he’d been thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could manage a way to keep her.

He’d laugh if he wasn’t so angry—with himself, mostly. Her teasing about marrying a prince brought him back to reality. He was a man, just has he’d told her, who had gotten himself into a gnarly situation, who would hopefully end up with some gold in his pocket. If he got a couple of kisses from a pretty girl in the meantime? That didn’t make him a villain, just a man who was taking advantage of his situation.

What an idiot he would be to let his heart become more engaged than it already was. That horse was already out of the barn, but he’d do his best in the next few weeks to make certain it didn’t get away entirely. And maybe he could coax it back into the barn. He chuckled to himself, winning a questioning look from Genny.

“Just thinking of horses and barns,” he said by way of explanation, which only seemed to make Genny more confused.

 

Omaha, Nebraska was a small but bustling city, seemingly sprouting from the plains in a random way. It had been only twenty years since the first white baby had been born in Omaha, and now it was a sprawling city with brick buildings and paved streets. The train pulled into a station situated in the older part of town with clapboard buildings and fences that looked like a good wind would knock them over. But in the distance, Genny could see a gleaming white church steeple and fine brick and stone buildings.

The Walshes had already gathered up all their belongings and were ready to head to the baggage car when the train groaned to a final stop. Genny stood and bade them a tearful good-bye, feeling as though she was leaving behind a life-long friend.

“You make friends quickly when you travel,” Mrs. Walsh said, giving Genny a warm hug. Mr. Walsh patted her shoulder and did something with his mouth that Genny assumed was a smile. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t said more than a handful of words the entire way from Sacramento.

After they’d gone and Mitch had collected their belongings, Genny said, “I’ll never see them again. I’ll never see any of these people again. It’s so sad.”

“You get used to it. I’ll likely never see Will Jackson again and he was the best friend I’ve ever had. Just part of life.”

Just part of life. For the first time, it struck Genny that she would have to say good-bye to Mitch, that after she was safely ensconced with her grandparents, she would likely never see him again either. She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. She would not think about that until it happened. It would do no good to dwell on their good-bye when they still had weeks left together.

“But I can write. I have their address. Mrs. Walsh did promise to write.”

“I’m sure she will,” Mitch said, but she could tell he was just trying to appease her.

“You don’t think she will?”

“She might. In fact, she probably will. But then your lives will have taken different tracks and you won’t have much to say to one another. You’ll be a fine lady in England living in a castle and she’ll be back here making her own life.”

Genny felt she would never forget Mrs. Walsh, never stop writing as long as the older woman continued to write to her. But Mitch? She had a feeling he wouldn’t write a word. He just didn’t seem to be the type of man who would cling to a friendship. So when they said good-bye in a few weeks, it would be a final good-bye, very nearly like a death. It had been so hard to wrap her mind around the fact that her father was gone forever. It had taken weeks before she stopped looking at the door expecting him to walk in at any time. After Mitch left her, she would never see him again. She would have no reason to return to America and he certainly would have no reason to go to England.

“Are you going back to California after you take me to my grandparents?”

He looked at her and shook his head before staring out at the busy train station and the passengers collecting their bags. “I plan to open up a photography studio and settle down. I always was better at taking pictures of people rather than nature. That was Will’s strength. He could capture the beauty and grandness of a tree, but I ended up just taking a picture of a tree. Nearly the same, but to someone who understands photography, it’s completely different.”