He considered another possibility and addressed Mrs. Tyler. “Did she strike you as”—here he tapped his temple with a fingertip—“as slow?”
“Slow? No, not in the least. A bit distracted, I thought. She spent a great deal of time staring out the window, but you know that since you were watching her. Perhaps she was fascinated by the landscape, but I supposed she was simply thinking, daydreaming. I don’t know that for a fact; it was just my impression. But slow? No. There might be cause for some to say that she showed a lack of goodjudgment, but I would not be one of them. And neither should you be. It was the act of assisting you that put her squarely in the sights of that awful man.” She fell quiet, thinking. “Well, that and the fact that she snorted.”
“How’s that again?”
“She snorted.” Mrs. Tyler attempted to demonstrate but could only manage a disdainful sniff. “Something like that. It was an elegant expression of derision.”
“I see,” he said dryly. “And she was tending to me? Do I have that right?”
“Yes. The farmer was looking after his own injury, and the two sidewinders were bent on escaping. Mrs. Bancroft was comforting her daughter, and I freely admit I did not yet have my wits about me.”
“You said she shot him.”
“Yes. Winged him, actually.” She touched her upper left arm with her right hand. “Here. Caused him to take a step back, but I think it was more in surprise than from the injury. His companions reappeared from the rear car, saw what happened, and pointed their guns at her. He—the big fella—stopped them and ordered them to bring her along.”
“Did she resist? Snort?”
“That is not amusing, young man. She had the good sense to go with them and saved the rest of us. I imagine he wanted her to attend to his wound.”
“How long ago?”
“There was still light then.” She looked to Mrs. Bancroft for help. “An hour, would you say?”
“That seems right. Perhaps a little more.”
Remington exhaled long and deeply. He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the bank of windows on his right.
Mrs. Tyler shook her head. “Other way. I watched until they disappeared over a ridge. I can’t possibly know where they went after that.”
“And Phoebe Apple? You’re sure you saw her riding out with them?”
“Yes.” Although her answer was firmly given, it was followed by the gradual, thoughtful appearance of a frown.
“What is it?” asked Remington.
“Well, I can’t say that it’s anything, it’s just that...” Mrs. Tyler worried her lower lip. “I didn’t think of it before; it didn’t occur to me, that is, but she rode alone, and none of them was walking. It’s peculiar now that I think on it. Almost as if they had a spare animal just for the purpose of taking a hostage. Peculiar, like I said.”
“Peculiar,” Remington repeated under his breath. “And no one tried to stop it?”
She shrugged. “Didn’t seem that way, though I wonder what you think anyone could have done. Even if any of the passengers were allowed to keep a gun, I don’t imagine they wanted to fire for fear of hurting her.”
Remington could feel the weight of the Colt at his side. They hadn’t relieved him of his weapon, but then he had not exactly been a threat to them. Annoyed with himself as much as this turn of events, he flattened his mouth as he considered his options.
There were the two thoroughbreds he had purchased in one of the rear cattle cars. If they had not been injured when the train was forced to a stop, it was possible he could ride out, provided he could locate tack and one of the animals would accept him as a rider. Seemed like a lot ofifs.
“Mister.”
Remington’s attention was caught by the insistent tug on his long coat. He looked down at Madeleine, who was clutching his duster. “Yes, Madeleine?”
Her fingers unfolded and she smiled at him guilelessly. “I can ride a horse.”
Mrs. Bancroft touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Not now, Madeleine.”
“But I can. A pony anyway. And I have a good seat. Father says so.”
“Madeleine, please.” Mrs. Bancroft smiled apologetically. “I don’t know why she thinks that is important now.”
Remington didn’t either, and he surprised himself by hunkering in front of the little girl. “Is it important?”
