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Down barreled the hulking form of the soot-black train, the whistle sounding in the distance, smoke billowing from atop the roof.
“Here,” Cole murmured to Monty. “Just at the bend.” It was where he’d given explicit instructions for the rail ties to be broken, the train tracks loosened. As if on cue, the sleek form of the train, the light illuminating the early morning darkness, veered off, and with a sickening screech of brakes and metal on metal, the train careened off its tracks and tumbled over like a bear that had been shot on its hind legs, a powerful force of nature suddenly off kilter and disturbingly erratic. It was all planned, though, and the train coming at half speed was far less violent an end than it could’ve been otherwise.
“Go,” hissed Cole, and like snakes slithering in tall grass ready to strike, the men advanced on the train. Cole broke through the door first. The train tipped to its side, so he walked over tilted chairs and windows, and went straight to the engine room. When Cole came in, the conductor held up his hands in surrender, Cole gave a knowing nod, and the man fell in line. Cole pretended he didn’t recognize Preach’s jowls and dark eyes.
He gestured for him to follow in line, but the second Preach realized they were alone, he turned to Cole. “They’re here,” he said. Cole looked at him sharply.
Preach shook his head. “They weren’t supposed to come, I know.” Preach was the only one who’d been completely appraised of his initial plans, though Junior and Doc knew enough to keep them loyal. It had been planned for months, the second part of their plan only a recent development. Preach’s going ahead of him had only worked to solidify their plan. They’d rob the morning train, prove to Pearson and Monty they were capable of such a hijack, no passengers to injure, and bring Pearson and Monty to justice.
“Come again?” Cole whispered.
“They’re here,” Preach repeated. “Wasn’t a vacant train like on the record. I had to play like I knew what was happening. They had it planned from the beginning, supposedly for safety reasons. I had to go along with it, Cole, and had no way to contact you.”
“Which ones are here?” Cole asked.
Preach swallowed. “The one who matters.”
Cole closed his eyes. The familiar cold metal against his waist, and tucked into his boot… all it would take would be one clean shot. Preach would have him protected and be sure no one witnessed the murder. They could do anything at this point, murder him in cold blood and toss his body in the river. Shoot him and somehow feign he’d been murdered in the accident. Hell, even scalping or hanging, or some other such violent act of justice seemed fitting.
Their plans had changed, but ultimate justice would still happen. He’d find a way.
“Where’s the safe?” Cole growled.
“Last car, and Monty and his men already have it,” Preach said, gesturing out the window, to where Monty and three men were hauling a safe out of the last caboose. Good. At least that part of the plan had worked.
“And your passengers?” Cole asked.
Preach jerked his chin to the back. “Second to last cabin,” he stated. It was hard work trotting through the rubble and debris, but Cole found them. He hoped they were injured but still alive. A sudden death for the man he was hunting would be far too easy an end.
It was all he could do to not sneer when he saw them. Whereas others would’ve perhaps valiantly tried to dig their way out of the rubble, or to make it to safety, the two well-dressed men in the middle caboose were huddled together like the pussies they were.
Cole knew him right away. He had the same stark blue eyes as his daughter.
Chapter Fourteen
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. ? Edna St. Vincent Millay
The screeching of metal clashing woke Aida. At first, she reached instinctively for the warmth of the man she’d fallen asleep beside, but instead saw a tawny head in a thin stream of light that came from the darkened window. She sat up with a gasp, barely stifling a scream.
“It’s just me,” Junior said, holding his palms facing her in surrender. “Cole had something to tend to, and I’m here to keep you safe,” he said.
She pulled the blanket up over her. Why couldn’t she have gone with him? Why did he have to leave her here? She twisted in bed, her body still ached from the strapping and harsh lovemaking of the night before. It surprised her how strongly she felt the sense of longing.
“When will he be back?” she whispered, but Junior was at the window now, looking out wistfully. It was still too dark for them to see a thing.
“When he’s good and ready,” Junior said tersely. Aida knew Junior likely wished he was with Cole and the others, rather than playing nanny to a half-clothed woman who kept asking questions, but it still irritated her.
She threw the blanket over her shoulders and marched toward the bathroom, but Junior held up a hand and handed her a bundle of folded clothing. “Cole said you were to have this,” he said. “He had someone in the saloon bring it up. A connection he has.” She snatched it out of his hand and opened it up, revealing a simple gown that would fit her well.
“Thank you,” she said shyly, a faint flush creeping to her cheeks as she suddenly remembered how her other dress now lay in tatters. She turned from Junior and went back toward the tiny privy, shared with a door on the other side by an adjacent room.
In a fit of anger, she threw the deadbolt on the door to keep Junior out, and flounced herself over to the sink where a small looking glass reflected her angry countenance. She looked a right mess, with her hair piled up on her head in wild ringlets, a splotch of red on one cheek from leaning up against the pillow. Tentatively, she lifted her skirt and tried to peer at her reddened backside. Had he left stripe marks?
Why was it she wished he had?
Sighing, she dressed quickly. Just as she was finishing she heard the lock fumble, and she turned to face Junior.
“You stay out of—” she began, but to her surprise, it wasn’t the door she’d entered that was being jostled. She wheeled just in time to see Pearson’s narrowed eyes fall on hers in victory. His thin, rabid face grew hungry, and she could only stare as he advanced.
