Under a Falling Star (6 page)

The clock chimed ten. She blinked the past away. A perplexed expression had replaced Albert’s sideways smile.

“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

His eyes wandered her face, assessing. “I guess you’ll tell me when you’re good and ready, and not a moment before.” He looked at her empty plate and stood.

Still agitated, she pushed back her chair and followed. “I’m sorry, Albert. Right now all I can think about are all those injured people. I have to get back. Dr. Thorn probably thinks I’ve forgotten and fallen asleep.”

“I doubt that.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

How did one navigate such dangerous waters? Every time she thought it safe to speak her feelings, something surged up inside bringing back all the painful memories of her childhood. Albert knew she liked him; heck, he probably knew she
loved
him! Why did they have to spell it out to each other? Once that was done there wasn’t anywhere to go from there but down. She wouldn’t survive if his love cooled as the days went on, finally to die completely. That was a moment she never wanted to experience.

CHAPTER NINE

F
ive o’clock in the morning was much too early to be drenched in sweat. Dalton hefted the steel pry bar and rammed it down into the one-inch air vent on the top of the converted boxcar. His arms ached. Sweat ran down the side of his face and dripped from his forehead into his eyes, the salt stinging even as he blinked it away. Wedging a block of wood under his tool, he leaned over with all his strength, leveraging the roof up a tiny bit more. The collision had fractured the iron that ran the length of the roof, but at this rate, it would take the whole day to extricate Evan and the payload below.

“I’m ready to give it a go,” Gabe Garrison said. Dalton and the young cowhand had been changing out at five-minute intervals. Still the access area had barely grown. Accomplishing their task would be no easy feat.

“One more minute, Gabe,” he said, feeling the responsibility on his shoulders. It was demanding, backbreaking work. He lifted until his hands were over his head, then slammed down the steel bar, aiming for the hole. If you weren’t careful, you’d miss the target entirely, which Gabe had once, sending the treacherous widow maker flying to the ground when it slipped from his hands. The plan was to enlarge the small ripped area by pulling back the thinner layer of iron that covered the top of the car until the hole was large enough to get a small man or boy inside to unlock the door from within. That was the only way.

Dalton glanced up at the morning sun shining in the cloudless sky.

“How’s it going?” Albert called up.

As the sheriff had promised, Thom Donovan had shown up at midnight, relieving Charlie, and Albert had returned an hour after that, allowing Chase to go home.

Dalton stripped off his shirt and wiped it over his body. “Slow. Haven’t made much progress.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Albert replied. The sheriff started up the ladder, a ray of sun glinting off the man’s five-pointed star. He came close, walking carefully on the roof, and examined the small opening.

Dalton rested the tip of the pry bar on the roof and sucked in several deep breaths. The men of Logan Meadows were a fine lot. Especially the sheriff. Dalton hadn’t expected him to pitch in and help with the extrication, but that was exactly what he’d done since he’d arrived with a wagonload of tools he’d borrowed from his brother’s livery.

Albert knelt, then lowered himself onto his belly, one hand placed on either side of the small opening. He gazed into the dark chamber. “Hello? Evan Stone, can you hear me? Knock on something if you can’t speak.” He turned his head and pressed his ear firmly to the roof. After a moment, he climbed to his feet next to Gabe. “I think we could work away at this forever and not get in. I have an idea that will have this done in the blink of an eye.”

“We’ve already decided against dynamite,” Dalton said. “We can’t risk it.”

Albert lifted his hat and swished it several times in front of his face. Dalton had already learned that you couldn’t rush the sheriff when he was about to say something important.

“We did decide that,” Albert finally said. “But that was when we were talking about blowing the door. I say we blow this hole. It’s above Evan, so the concussion will go up and away from the cash boxes. If your friend is alive, getting him out before much longer should be the main concern. The explosion can’t cause him more harm than to leave him in there for days on end. Besides, most likely he was pitched to the front of the car when the train jerked to a sudden stop. I’ll bet he’s up against the wall, which is the best place for him now.”

Dalton thought that over. He had a point.

At the sound of wagon wheels on gravel, all three men looked around. Dalton shouldered his way back into his shirt when he noticed a woman at the reins. Thom Donovan, still sitting his horse and guarding the car, waved, a large smile splitting his face.

“Must be your deputy’s wife,” Dalton said.

“That’s right. Hannah Donovan.”

Dalton watched the buggy approach. “A good woman would make everything easier to bear. You married, Sheriff?”

A strange expression crossed Albert’s face. Maybe he’d overstepped.

“Me?” Albert grasped the back of his neck and worked his muscles. Seemed he was avoiding Dalton’s gaze. “Have you seen a wife around that I don’t know about?” His forced chuckle was strained. “I do have a girl that sets the moon and stars.”

“Moon and stars?” Dalton said with a lilt of humor. “Talking pretty colorful for so early in the morning, aren’t you?”

Albert shrugged. “Laugh all you want, but it’s true. You’ll see what I mean when it happens to you.”

“A man can’t ask for more than that, I guess.”

Mrs. Donovan pulled the buggy to a halt. Thom rode forward and the sounds of their soft conversation floated up to where the men watched. She laughed at something Thom said, then turned and waved. She climbed out.

“Good morning, Albert, Gabe,” she called. She momentarily glanced at her husband again, before going on. “And you must be
Mr. Babcock.” When he nodded, she continued, “Doctor Thorn said
you were a big help yesterday. Are you making any progress with the
train?” She gathered some things from the back of the buggy and made her way toward the money car, a tray with cups and a covered basket in her hands. Dalton hoped she’d brought some food.

“I have hot coffee and biscuits. No man I’ve ever known likes to go to work without something hot in his belly. Come down and take a short break. Refuel your energy.”

Gabe was the first to hit the ladder. “Coffee? Biscuits? That’s awfully kind of you, Mrs. Donovan.”

“Don’t mind if we do,” Albert called down. “Thank you kindly, Hannah.”

Dalton waited until Gabe’s feet hit the ground before starting down himself, the thought of coffee more appealing than his mama’s sour-apple pie.

Seeing Hannah Donovan reminded Dalton of Susanna. God’s truth, he’d hardly thought of anything else through the long dark night. Her face and sassy words kept popping into his head at the oddest times. Actually, he owed her a glass of lemonade for keeping him so alert when fatigue would have had his eyes drooping. Once they had the money safely in the bank, he’d look her up again. He certainly wanted to know why she’d settled in Logan Meadows. She hadn’t been wearing a wedding band, another fact that had played at the corners of his mind. But, that would have to wait until his other responsibilities with Evan and the cargo were resolved and he’d found Pat. Hopefully both guards were still alive and just needed doctoring.

Once on the ground and flanked by Albert, Dalton waited as Mrs. Donovan filled a white porcelain cup with fragrant, dark liquid. She handed it to Gabe, who already gripped a handful of biscuits. She glanced at Dalton. “Don’t be shy, Mr. Babcock. Get some biscuits before they’re gone.”

Gabe’s face turned three shades of red, but he kept on chewing at the rate of a racehorse. “I got out here early, Mrs. Donovan, before I had a chance to eat.”

She smiled and nodded. “That’s precisely why I’m here.”

Dalton dipped his chin. “Thank you, ma’am. And we do appreciate it very much.”

Reaching into the overfilled biscuit basket, Dalton realized he’d taken a shine to these townsfolk. He felt right at home.

CHAPTER TEN

N
ew light brought new hope. Susanna walked slowly down her aisle of patients, being careful not to let her heels touch the floor. The best medicine now, for most of them, was deep, uninterrupted sleep. At the end of the row, she looked out the front window. People milled around the back door of the El Dorado Hotel looking lost and still a little in shock, probably trying to make sense of the accident that had disrupted their lives, killed their loved ones, or placed them in the doctor’s care.

Thoughts of Albert filtered into her mind. Things would work out, she told herself for the hundredth time since seeing him yesterday. He cared for her, and would probably do more if she’d get past this stupid fear of rejection. He’d been trying to express his feelings again last night until she changed the subject on him. The considerate things he did daily showed her how much he cared. He wasn’t like the men her mother knew. He was honest and good. She was tired of her insecurities. She would put her trust in him, let him court her, and then be the next bride in Logan Meadows.

A thrill of excitement zipped through her and she couldn’t stop her imagination from galloping off as she daydreamed about what it would be like to sleep in Albert’s arms. The next time they were alone, she’d tell him so, she promised herself, still gazing on the scene out the window. After all the times she’d avoided the subject, he’d think she’d lost her mind. Still, he was going to be so happy. Perhaps she’d be married by this time next week.

What about Dalton? He knows the truth about Mother. If he says anything, will Albert still look at me the same?

She glanced at the clock. Almost six. Her gritty eyes burned. Her pillow was going to feel so nice when she finally made it back to her house and crawled into bed. She expected Brenna any moment. Mrs. Hollyhock was already in the kitchen preparing a large pot of mush for the patients’ breakfast.

A long, shuddering moan brought Susanna around. She rushed to Julia’s side just as the girl leaned over the side of her cot to vomit into the bucket Susanna had set there for that exact purpose. Twice during the night, she’d done the same, then sunk back into her misery.

Susanna crouched by the side of Julia’s bed as the girl began to lay back, her uninjured arm cradling her fractured limb, now protected in a cast. “Let me help you,” Susanna crooned. With strong arms, she lowered the ginger-haired beauty back until her head once again rested on her pillow.

Julia tried to smile.

“What can I get you?” Susanna asked.

“There’s nothing,” she whispered. “I just need to get through this the best that I can. I’m sorry for the mess.”

“Nonsense. I’m sorry I made you drink all that horrible liquor last night. It was enough to set a horse on his backside. Your head must ache terribly.”

The girl gave a small nod.

“I have a bit of good news. The doctor was just here. He’s coming back with some laudanum. It’ll help you sleep until the worst has passed.” She didn’t tell Julia that the doctor had a surplus of the medication because two of his surgery patients had passed away during the night. The girl had enough to think about without that gruesome news.

Julia smiled. “I’m glad. My arm does hurt something fierce.” She glanced away for a moment, then back at Susanna. Her eyes pooled with tears. “I really want to speak with my aunt Biddy. Can you please send word for her to come? I thought by now she would’ve found me. It’s not like her to make me worry.”

I can’t lie to her any longer. Now that her arm is set, she needs to know the truth.
“Julia, I’m sorry.”

As if the girl knew what she was about to say, her head began to rock back and forth in denial and a low keening vibrated in her throat. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be true. Please tell me it’s not true.”

Susanna gently stroked Julia’s clammy forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

Several minutes passed with tears Julia’s only movement. Susanna pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the outside corners of the girl’s eyes.

“How?”

Susanna breathed in. “I’m not sure. She’d already passed when they found her. She must have hit her head. I wish I wasn’t the one to have to tell you.”

Julia blinked away more tears. “I guess I probably knew the truth all along, but didn’t want to accept it. Poor Aunt Biddy. She was such a gentle soul.”

Susanna just listened; a voice inside said that was what the girl needed now more than anything.

“She wasn’t my real aunt, you know. She was kind enough to take me in when my mother died when I was only five. They were friends.”

“That was a very caring thing for her to do. Where were you traveling to?”

“San Francisco. To Aunt Biddy’s sister. I’ve never met the woman, but I could tell by her letters that she didn’t really want us to come and live. But we had nowhere else to go. Aunt Biddy’s employer died and the new owner laid off a handful of employees. I don’t know what I’ll do now. Where I’ll go.”

The sounds of the town coming to life filtered into the room. Mrs. Hollyhock shuffled through the kitchen door carrying a tray filled with bowls. Susanna needed to help her. Brenna came through the front door, and the doctor appeared as well.

“You need to go?” Julia whispered.

Susanna propped some pillows behind her back so she’d be able to eat. “Yes, I do. You’re not to worry about your future; you’re to concentrate on healing that arm.” She smiled. “Things
will
work out, you’ll see.”

“You’ll come back, won’t you, Susanna?”

She nodded. “Of course. After breakfast, I’m going to run some errands, do a few things for the doctor, and rest for an hour or two. But I’ll be back. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Julia braved a wobbly smile. “I’ll be right here waiting.” The young woman was stronger than she looked. Sometimes it took the worst of things to bring out the best in people. Julia strained to see the doctor. “Now, where’s that laudanum? I want a nice big dose.”

“Coming right up as soon as you eat,” Susanna said, then winked. “I’ll go speak with Dr. Thorn right now. We’ll fix you up for a nice long nap.”

Dalton insisted on being the one to set the charge. He wouldn’t risk the life of the sheriff, or any of the others for that matter. This was his responsibility, and he’d see it through. Lifting the flap on his left front pocket, he felt around for the matches he’d put there not ten minutes before. Winthrop, Albert’s brother, had come out an hour ago and relieved Thom, who’d gone back to town to alert Frank to the fact the money would soon be on the way, if all went to plan. The jovial livery owner sat his horse a safe distance away, with two other men, keeping a sharp eye out. If outlaws planned to make a play, the time of the explosion—and any subsequent confusion—would be their best shot.

Standing next to the wagon, Albert’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

Albert pulled his hat lower to shield his eyes from the rising sun. “Then get a move on.”

Dalton selected a stick of dynamite from the box in the bed of the buckboard and stuck it into his waistband, then gathered the spool of detonation cord. With an unsteady heart, he closed the distance to the train car and climbed the ladder while Gabe drove the wagon a good distance away. Nothing like a dangerous situation in the morning to wake you up and make you rethink your life. When had he last spoken with his mother? A small ache in his heart said it’d been a good long time. The only commendable thing about today was the strong breeze cooling his skin. He glanced up at the sky and noticed a few new clouds sailing along at a good clip.

On top of the train car, he hunkered down. “Evan, if you can hear me, try to get under the bunk. We’re going to blow the top.” He took a minute to listen again, but silence was his only reply. He wedged the dynamite into the hole they’d barely widened after four hours of work. He tied the cord to the fuse.

Albert stood below on the tracks, watching.

“Go on and get back with the others,” Dalton called. The sheriff’s keen stare was creating more jitters than he already had.

“Nothing doing. We’ll go together.”

“You’re a jackass.” The words surprised him. If he were to guess, Albert and he were close to the same age, a year or two under thirty. If this didn’t work, and the charge was too powerful and killed Evan and blew up the money, he’d probably go to prison for robbery and murder by explosion.

His mouth was dry as sand. He willed his hands to be steady.

Finished tying a secure knot, Dalton slowly backed away, rolling out the cord. A gust of wind almost took his hat. He heard a chuckle from below, but didn’t shift his concentration from what he was doing.

The plan was to string the cord across the roof to the ladder, then cut it about a foot past the edge. There he would light it, giving him plenty of time to finish the climb down and run to safety.

At the end of the car, he stepped over the edge and fished for the step with his boot. He climbed down several rungs, which left his head still in view of the charge. Withdrawing his knife, he made the cut and tossed the roll down to Albert.

“This is it. I’d feel better it you got back a few hundred feet.”

“What are you so worried about, Babcock? Just light the darn fuse and let’s get this over with.”

Easy to say when you’re not the one with the match.
“Fine.”

In three heartbeats, he had the thing burning. The hiss from the small flame as it slowly crawled up the fuse prickled his skin. Dalton went down two rungs at a time, but Albert caught his shoulder just as he was about to turn and run.

“What?” It came out in a bark.

Albert pointed. The flame had been extinguished after burning only a foot. The breeze played with the cord, moving it back and forth along the edge of the train car.

“Tarnation!” Dalton rubbed his moist palms down his pants.

“You want me to do it?”

“No. I told you that before. Now move back. I don’t want to be responsible for killing the sheriff of Logan Meadows.”

Dalton started up the ladder, knowing he could talk until he was blue in the face and the sheriff wouldn’t budge. He quickly lit the fuse, and gave it a gentle toss. Problem was, at that exact moment, a healthy gust of wind picked up the string like the tail of a kite and it flew upward. A sick feeling clamped Dalton’s chest. He poked his head over the top of the edge to see that the end of the fuse had doubled back on itself and landed on top of the charge. If he and Albert didn’t get out of there fast, they’d be blown to smithereens.

“RUN!”

He grasped the sides of the metal ladder and all but slid down the rungs. His foot caught the landing when he went to jump, and he landed on his hands and knees in the rocks. Albert hauled him to his feet and they ran like lunatics alongside the train.

They hadn’t gotten but ten feet when the explosion knocked them both to their knees.