“No. They didn’t.”
Thaddeus exhaled, turned his attention to Remington. “You, son? You’re all right? Mrs. Tyler informed me that you took a hard fall on the train. Cracked your head, she said.”
“Of course she did. Mrs. Tyler is a busybody.” Sensing that Thaddeus was searching for a lump, Remington touched the side of his head above his temple. “But she isn’t wrong. Hurts some. Had worse.”
Thaddeus leaned over, set his hand on Remington’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. What you did, well, it’s appreciated.”
Remington did not shy away from his father’s gratitude. He knew it to be true whether Thaddeus said it aloud or not. His father’s next words, though, he wished were left unsaid.
“Fiona will want to thank you as well.”
Remington shrugged. It had the effect of removing his father’s hand from his shoulder, although that was not his intention. “There’s no reason for her to thank me.”
“On the contrary.” Thaddeus withdrew his hand. “You’re bringing Phoebe to her, not Northeast Rail. She’ll understand that.”
Remington felt Phoebe stir. He wanted to get underway before she woke, but he could not leave before he knew the answer to the question uppermost in his mind. “Is Fiona waiting at the station?”
“No. At the ranch.”
Remington did not ask for an explanation. In hindsight, he thought he shouldn’t have asked the question. His father’s terse response led him to believe Thaddeus was disappointed in Fiona, perhaps embarrassed by her absence. Remington did not want to expose that to the men who had formed a semicircle around them and were waiting patiently for an indication they could leave.
Remington nodded to them. “We can go.”
Jackson Brewer elected to stay back to corral the other search party and return to Frost Falls with them. Thaddeus had made it clear, over the strenuous objections of everyone else, that if Phoebe was returned safely, he had no interest in the money. The sheriff was free, of course, even duty bound, to go after the thieves for what they stole from the passengers, but Thaddeus was not interested in pursuing them about Phoebe’s abduction.
Remington kicked up an eyebrow when this was explained to him, not by his father as he would have expected, but by Sheriff Brewer. Remington had no response save for silence. He remembered telling Phoebe his father would demand justice; now it seemed her safe return was what mattered. There probably wasn’t an argument in his head that the others had not already put forth. The best thing for now was to keep his own counsel. Phoebe might want her pound of flesh, and if she did, he could imagine Thaddeus being persuaded to change his mind. There ought to be a reckoning for Mr. Shoulders and the pair hiding behind blue bandannas. There ought to be, if not justice, then an accounting of the facts. Remington could support that, even if his father could not.
• • •
Phoebe woke less abruptly than she had the last time Remington put his hand on her shoulder, but she was no less disoriented. It required several moments for her to understand the hard pillow beneath her cheek was Remington’s chest and that what she was gripping so fiercely in her fists was not a sheet but his shirt. Her fingers were stiff, and she unfolded them slowly, removed her hands from beneath his jacket and vest, and then released him entirely.
“Easy,” he said, his voice close to her ear. “It’s better if you hold on to something.”
Phoebe clutched his jacket sleeve and raised her head. Her vision was blurry and her eyelids felt weighted by the depth of her sleep. “Where are we?”
“About three miles from Frost Falls.”
That brought her upright. She became aware of two things simultaneously: The saddle horn was digging painfully into her hip again, and they had acquired an escort. Blinking rapidly, she twisted her head around to search for a familiar face. Her gaze settled on Thaddeus Frost and she felt her heart ease and the knot in her stomach uncoil.
Thaddeus had a broad, welcoming smile for her. “Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Is that right? Is she the one?”
“If I look as if I’ve slept one hundred years, then she’s the one.”
Remington put up a hand to halt his father’s objection. “Come around on my left before she breaks her neck trying to get a good look at you.”
Thaddeus slowed, let Remington get ahead, and then came abreast of Phoebe on the other side. He continued as if there had been no interruption. “You look fine, Phoebe. Real fine. My son here treating you like he should?”
“More like he’s treating me as I deserve. I have no complaints.”
“That’s good, then.” His cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath. “Not everyone coming to Colorado gets the welcome you do.”
“I wondered. Have you found them?”
“No. That’s the sheriff’s problem now.” He introduced her to the others, saving Ben Madison for last. “You remember me telling you about Ben? He’s our housekeeper’s boy. Been with us about as long as she has and turned himself into a pretty good wrangler.”
Phoebe was able to call up the memory of that conversation. She remembered thinking Thaddeus had raised Ben as if he were a second son, though he never described their relationship in that manner. There was affection there, if not a bond as strong as Thaddeus shared with Remington, and Ben had been privileged to have advantages growing up in the Frost household that he could not have had elsewhere. From Thaddeus she also knew that Ben and Remington scrapped as youngsters, tolerated each other in their middleyears, and grieved separately when Remington was sent away to school. Older by five years, Remington returned a man full grown and Ben was still doing everything he could to catch up.
“I remember,” she said. Her eyes swiveled to Ben. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Forgive me for not greeting you properly.” She glanced at her hands and then offered Ben a regretful smile. “I have to hold on.”
