Chapter One
Frost Falls, Colorado
April 1892
“He’s got eyes for you. I know about these things, and I’m not wrong about this. Just see if he doesn’t.”
Belatedly, Phoebe Apple’s attention was drawn from the window where the landscape passed at a measured, hypnotic speed, to the fellow traveler on her left. “Pardon?” she asked, turning slightly in her seat to address the older woman. There had been precious few words exchanged since they had boarded together in Denver, and Phoebe had a desire to keep it that way. As a rule, she favored conversation, but found it more comfortable when it was going on around her.
She offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Woolgathering. I didn’t hear what you said.”
“I see that plain enough. You’ve had your nose pressed to that window for the better part of the last hour. Like a beggar at the bake shop.” She presented this with a hint of amusement, no reproof. “Deep thoughts, I take it.”
Phoebe presented a light shrug but made no comment about the depth of her thoughts. She required a moment to recall the woman’s name. There had been introductions at the point of taking their seats, but Phoebe found herself struggling to bring forth a name.
“Amanda Tyler,” the woman said. “Mrs. Jacob C. Tyler.”
“Of course.” Having been caught out, Phoebe felt herself flushing. “Phoebe Apple.”
“Oh, I remember.” Mrs. Jacob C. Tyler leaned a few degreestoward Phoebe and whispered in confidential tones, “Don’t look now, but he’s glancing your way again.”
Startled, Phoebe’s chin came up a fraction and she cast her eyes in every direction except behind her. It was the hand suddenly covering one of hers and squeezing gently that grounded her. She dropped her head and stared at her lap, aware now of the softness of Mrs. Tyler’s palm, the pressure of plump fingers, and that comfort and admonishment were being offered simultaneously.
Under her breath, Phoebe asked, “Who is watching me?”
“I didn’t exactly say he’s watching you. More like he’s got an interest.”
“Why would he be interested in me?”
Mrs. Tyler sat back again and released Phoebe’s hand in order to give it a few light taps. “You have a passing acquaintance with a mirror, don’t you?”
Phoebe turned fully sideways to regard Mrs. Tyler and was confronted by the woman’s clearly entertained expression. “I know what I see in the mirror, Mrs. Tyler, but that is neither here nor there.” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand, drawing attention to the gold wedding band. “I am married.” She widened the opening of the pale gray cape she was wearing, modestly exposing her rounded belly. “And then there is this.” She splayed her fingers across her abdomen. “There is every possibility that I will give birth before I reach Frost Falls. It is that imminent.”
Mrs. Tyler chuckled appreciatively. Creases radiated from the corner of her eyes like rays of sunshine, adding lines to what was otherwise a seamless face. Her smoothly rounded countenance made her a woman of indeterminate age, certainly north of forty given that there were silver threads in her sandy-colored hair, but how far north was impossible to know.
“He entered this car after we were seated,” she said. “I can’t imagine that he saw your ring or took note of your condition. The way he looks at you suggests to me that neither would be an impediment. I have the sense that he’s a man who enjoys looking.”
Phoebe frowned, troubled. It was difficult not to seek out the man.
Mrs. Tyler’s smile faded along with the lines at the corner of her eyes. Two small vertical creases appeared between her eyebrows. “Oh, I see that I’ve done harm. Nothing I said was meant to worry you. I thought you would be flattered or at least diverted. It seemed to me you were in need of a bit of diversion, but clearly I mistook the matter.” She twisted the brilliant cut pear shape diamond ring on her finger. “My husband will tell you that I frequently say what’s on my mind with no sense that my observations might not be well received. I do apologize.”
“There’s no need that you should.” Force of habit had Phoebe responding quickly, too quickly perhaps to give her words the weight of sincerity. “Truly. You aren’t wrong that I am in need of a bit of diversion.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Mrs. Tyler said the words uncertainly, but she did not wait for confirmation before she plunged ahead. “Four seats in front on the left. He is in a seat facing this way, though how he can ride backwards on the train is something I will never understand. He’s wearing a black duster and a black, silver-banded hat. Quick. Look now.”
Phoebe did. It was only possible to glimpse him in profile before his head began to swivel back in her direction. She could not be sure that he meant to look at her again—if Mrs. Tyler’s observation could be trusted—but she did not want to take the chance that she would be spied studying him. The wide brim of his hat shaded his face, making it difficult to see much more than sharply carved features set in a fashion that could most kindly be described as grim. She had the impression of dark, unkempt hair, overlong so that it curled at the collar of his duster, and at least a day’s growth of stubble defined his jaw.
Oddly, neither his hard, forbidding expression nor his lack of interest in barbers diminished Phoebe’s sense that here was an attractive man.
“Do you know him?” asked Phoebe, speaking out of the side of her mouth.
“No. Never saw him before, but then maybe you don’t recall that I told you right off that I’m not from these parts. Saint Louis born and raised.”
“Yes. I remember now. You’re going to Liberty Junction. That’s farther along the line than Frost Falls.”
“That’s right. My son and daughter-in-law just settled there. He’s managing the hotel and gambling house.”
“Hmm.”
