Chapter 12

"And you're sure you've never seen this man before?" The sheriff stared down at the body while he scratched his round belly. The lawman looked right prosperous.

"He's a complete stranger," Kat said. She could feel an imaginary noose tightening around her neck. Mr. Etherton hadn't come out to the house, but he'd assured her she wouldn't be arrested and that he'd step in if she was. She was finding it hard to breathe.

"And he had your names written in a notebook he carried with him, as well as an envelope full of hundred-dollar bills?"

Seb nodded, then handed the sheriff the dead man's notebook and money.

"Welp, he's a no-good varmint to put his hands on a woman thataway. Reckon he got what he deserved. He's no one I recognize, but then new folks are coming into town all the time. I'm gonna ask around, see if anyone's talked to him or if he was seen getting off the train. If he was staying at the hotel, he had to sign the register and might've left a satchel. The hotel may even know where he's from so we can notify his kin. You don't have to worry about this none, Mrs. Jones."

The imaginary noose loosened, and she took a deep breath.

"My deputy is coming along with an extra horse. Did you see a horse he left around here?"

"No, and we showed you where he grabbed me. He may have a horse tied up out there somewhere."

Nodding, the sheriff said, "We'll scout around. This fella we'll haul to town and dump him in a hole in the ground. If we can't find any family, the money is yours. I'll look for wanted posters, too. If he's a hired killer, he's prob'ly wanted somewhere for something, I reckon. You might get some reward money, Mrs. Jones."

"We want to leave town, go have a talk with the only person I told where we were." Seb crossed his arms and gave the sheriff a tight look. As if he expected to be told not to leave town.

"Hope you get things settled and get back to your cabin before winter settles in. Good luck to you."

The deputy rode up while Kat and Seb packed and saddled up. Kat got the impression that a woman could do most anything in this state and not end up arrested. Probably not a lesson women should learn, or the state might be flooded with the worst sorts.

When they'd gone for the sheriff, they'd checked and found an eastbound train was due in later that day, so they didn't stay long at the homestead. And anyway, if one man had found them, another might show up at any moment. Maybe there was a bounty on her head or Seb's or both of them? Maybe there was a stampede of hired killers heading for Cheyenne.

Good thing they were on the train and heading east before nightfall, leaving Cheyenne behind them.

"We'll reach Omaha tomorrow night and then we'll take a steamer ship south to Independence." Seb ran a hand through his dark blond hair.

"You need to visit a barber, husband. You look for all the world like a man who hasn't had his hair cut in over a year."

Nodding, Sebastian said, "Let's see what Omaha brings. Maybe we can find time for a haircut before we sail. I should probably try not to look too disreputable when I go punch those gentlemen lawyers Sterne and Morris right in the nose."

"A change of clothes, too, for both of us." Kat looked down at her bedraggled blue calico dress. It wasn't the only one she owned. She'd bought fabric and sewn a dress for herself in Cheyenne. But she'd forgotten about it when they'd shoved a few things in their satchels and caught the next train passing through town. This dress was a tattered thing Beth had provided for her when they'd first met.

They sat side by side on the back bench of the last passenger car. Probably, now that Kat thought about it, a sign they weren't eager to reach their destination. Or maybe a sign they wanted to be near the door in case someone else tried to seize them.

They had a lot of reasons to be all kinds of worried.

No one sat close to them. The train car wasn't particularly full. They'd opted not to pay for a sleeping berth because Kat didn't want to sleep. She was afraid to close her eyes. Afraid to be cornered.

"We have our guns." She patted her Springfield rifle that rested between them on the bench. The Peacemaker was tucked in her pocket. She'd watched Seb pack his as well. "You know how to shoot?"

"Nope," Seb said.

"Maybe we need one of those under-the-arm holsters like my attacker had. And more bullets."

Silence strung out between them. It had been late in the day when they'd embarked on their journey. Kat wondered if she could make it through the night without sleep. Maybe they could sleep in shifts. Yet every time she closed her eyes, she would picture that man she'd shot, bleeding, dying, eyes open and fixed on the sky.

"Tell me about the asylum, Kat."

She thought she'd told him enough, but then remembered her vow to talk more about her past with Seb. "Do you remember the story Ginny told about that woman getting upset when Ginny lightly touched her on the arm just to be friendly?"

"Yep."

"Nothing happened like that to me. Or mostly nothing. The orderlies and nurses were often cruel for no reason, but I never fought back. Never spoke up in defense of myself or anyone else. I was a model prisoner ... I mean, a model patient."

"Stick with prisoner—it's closer to the truth."

"I wasn't in as long as Ginny. A year only. Ginny was so smart and so honorable. She lived out her faith every day in that place. She encouraged others in small ways, but the attendants took it all as rebellious and disobedient, and I suppose as proof of insanity. Ginny couldn't quit, though. She was well-behaved, wanting to take care of everyone. She was even kind to the attendants. Not me."

"You weren't kind to the attendants?"

"I was silent. Obedient. I listened all the time, but only spoke if I was asked a direct question by someone in charge of me. At first I was grieving and felt like I deserved to be locked away. Then, as my thoughts cleared, I became so afraid that I made myself into a mouse. Outwardly I remained a mouse the whole time I was there. But after a time, inwardly I began to rebel. I realized if I was sneaky about it, I could do some small bits of defiance. I started with learning to pick the lock on my door."

Seb smiled broadly. "Good for you."

"I used a hairpin to pick the lock. I listened for the women who'd patrol the place at night. There was one on duty per night, and all of them were slack and usually just walked up and down the halls once each night. I'd hear the night guard pass by, then pick my lock and sneak around. Whoever was on guard did their one walk-around and then returned to the front desk where they'd fall asleep."

"What if they'd caught you?"

Kat shook her head. "Everyone was locked up, and those guards didn't much think of us, let alone care about us. I often wondered what would happen if the place burned down. Would they make a single effort to get us out? I suspect they'd let us burn to death in our locked rooms."

Seb shuddered.

"I also learned where they hid the room keys and where they kept medicine. I got into the doctor's office and read through my files. I even found a way out. But that's where my rebellion ended. I was too afraid to run away. I didn't know where I'd go. I was tempted. I considered it. I tried to think of a plan, but what would I do once I escaped? I had no money. My parents were dead by this time, and I had no other family—at least none I thought would help me. So I'd go back to my room, and I'd think and think, plot and plan. And then one night while I was doing my sneaking, I ran into Ginny slipping down the hall. I found myself a woman with a plan. I tagged along."

The conductor came through the door at the front of the car. One hour earlier, he'd walked to the back to check the passengers' tickets. Then on through, there were baggage cars, cars for livestock, and finally the caboose on past Kat and Seb. This was the conductor's second time through. Kat fell silent. She didn't have much more to say anyway. The conductor made his way toward them, nodded in a friendly way, then went on through the back door of the car, inspecting the train maybe. He seemed more vigilant than the asylum attendants.

"We took a cattle boat from Chicago to Independence."

Seb turned, startled. "A cattle boat? I've been on one of those. The stench was terrible, and the animals never stopped lowing."

"Beth was sure her father would expect her to travel in comfort. He'd look on the train and on passenger boats, but he wouldn't think of their traveling in such a way. That's why she chose the cattle boat and the wagon train. Beth had arranged jobs for her and her mama on the boat as cooks, while I stowed away. Except Ginny was a failure as a cook. Since no one knew us, Ginny hid in our cabin all day, and I cooked with Beth. When we landed in Independence, we walked to a prearranged spot to pick up the horses and supplies Oscar had left for Beth and Ginny. On our way, we heard you crying for help. Ginny and I stopped to care for you. Beth went on to get the horses. She bought a couple of extras and that cart we carried you in."

"I have only the faintest memory of you finding me," Seb said. "I remember you did some doctoring on me and declared it wasn't serious and that with care I'd live. I'd already resigned myself to death. I'd been shot. I climbed out on the roof of the warehouse where I had my laboratory, three stories high. I could jump or wait for the man hunting me to finish me off. A wagon passed beneath me, and I jumped."

"That explains why you had badly cracked or broken ribs. That hurt worse than the bullet wound."

Seb shrugged. "Maybe. The bullet wound hurt plenty."

"And you had a terrible lump on your forehead."

"I must've landed facedown on that wagon when I jumped out the window."

"The ribs were agony, but the blow to the head was what kept you addled and in and out of consciousness for so long. So we loaded you up, and on the way out of town, afraid because she was bringing two extra people with her, Beth stopped and bought more supplies and whatever else she thought might help." Kat patted her husband on the arm. "Beth wanted to patch you up and leave you at an inn, pay for you to be looked after. She said if it was good enough for the Good Samaritan, it was good enough for her."

Seb rested his hand on top of hers. "She was probably right."

"I insisted we take you. Not hard to do when you were unconscious, and we already had the cart."

"When I came around in the alley, I didn't know how I'd gotten there, what part of town I was in, or how far I'd ridden in that wagon. All I knew was that I was dying and that packet of mine had the notes to my latest invention. The address I scrawled on it was to Marcus Coleman."

"I remember his name on your packet. He's the one you've been corresponding with—another person who knows where we are."

"That's true. We spent all our time together in the lab, comparing notes, challenging each other, brainstorming ideas. We started out working on batteries, then he turned his attention to electricity generated from a steady source like a waterwheel or a steam-powered engine. I focused on a battery that could store electric energy and be transported. We corresponded after I came home to Independence, and he stayed on in St. Louis. Inventing was never about earning a living for him. It was always in pursuit of making the world a better place. Even though he'd quit his battery experiments, I thought he'd understand what I was working on and might be the one person who could finish it. I added pages to it in Hidden Canyon, and I've added more since Cheyenne. I feel like I'm getting close to a breakthrough."

The door behind them opened. The conductor came back in, paused, and smiled down at them. "We've got a long quiet stretch coming. We'll have to stop and take on water every once in a while. But there's no stop for meals or such things overnight. The stops will be short. Your tickets are to Omaha, so you can sleep through the stops and get some rest."

"That's good advice, sir," Seb said. "The whole train seems settled in for the night."

"It's a racket as it rolls along, but there's a steadiness to it that for some folks is almost like being rocked in a cradle." With that, the conductor said good-night and moved on to the other passengers, most of whom were sleeping already. A few moments later, he left the car.

"Kat, scoot closer to me. Rest your head on my lap."

She whispered, "One of us needs to stay awake. Most likely there are no hired killers on the train, but I'd prefer not to find out I was wrong while I'm sleeping."

"We'll take turns then. I'll take the first watch. I brought a new book with me in my satchel."

"Not Plato's Republic, I hope. I didn't notice you carting ten volumes along."

He removed the book from his satchel. "No, David Copperfield. It was the only book I could find in the general store. I suppose they had more packed away, but we were in a hurry."

Kat lit up. "Charles Dickens? That sounds wonderful."

Seb kissed her. "Wonderful? I doubt it. The main reason I bought it was because it sounds like a book that will put me to sleep."

She gently cuffed him on the arm. "Just read."

"Yes, Mrs. Jones."

Smiling, she slid up against the window to give herself enough room, then leaned sideways to use Seb's thigh as a pillow. He squeezed her shoulder and opened the book to chapter one:

"‘Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...'"

Seb took first watch and read about someone else who'd fallen on hard times.