She shook her head. “I thought I might be.”
He waved her in. “Come. Over here.” Knowing it was her favorite place to sit in reflection, Alex pointed to the window bench. “I should have brought you something warm to drink. I regret the lapse. I don’t suppose Mother offered you anything.”
Jane said, “She did not. It’s just as well. I could not swallow my own spit.”
Alex chuckled. “I doubt that. I am sure you did very well.” He waited for Jane to sit. She curled into the corner of the padded bench as he knew she would and drew her legs up and to the side, arranging and smoothing the skirt of her blue-and-white pinstriped gown until only the tips of her kid boots showed. “She suggested an abortion.”
It was not a question. Alexander was ever confident. Jane told him, “That word never passed your mother’s lips, but yes, that is her solution.”
“As I said it would be. She would never countenance a marriage between us.”
“Her phraseology precisely.”
“I know my mother.”
“Perhaps not as well as you think. She said that David would make the arrangements.”
Alex regarded Jane for a long moment. “That explains why you are as pale as death.” He shrugged carelessly. “You worry too much, Jane. Not everything is your cross to bear. I will take care of David. My brother will want to have nothing at all to do with this. He’ll be happy to pass off the duties. He will lecture me, of course. He takes pleasure in that. From his perspective it will be a fair punishment for me to handle this disagreeable situation on my own.”
“Do you think he knows about the other times?”
“Perhaps. It doesn’t matter. On his own he would arrive at the same solution as Mother. He is equally ruthless. A marriage between us would never be a consideration.” He winked at her. “We’re cousins.”
“Cousins twice removed is the proper term, I think. We are hardly related.”
“And you should rejoice in that.” Alex observed that Jane’s lips did not so much as twitch. “Jane. Cease your worry. I promise you it will all turn out exactly as I planned. David is a mere fly in the ointment. Mother will give him the money for the abortionist. He will give it to me. I will settle my debt with Eddie Hardaway and you will have enough to leave the city.”
“I do not need the money to leave New York,” said Jane. “Mr. Longstreet is paying for my ticket. It is included in our arrangement.”
Alex quickly held up his hands, palms out. It was a gesture of apology, though not terribly sincere. “Yes, yes. Your arrangement. I understand. You need the money in the event Mr. Longstreet has a face more fit for the back end of a mule and the character to complement it. I know you, Jane. That little nest egg is your ticket out of Butter Springs.”
“Bitter Springs,” Jane said. “It’s Bitter Springs.”
Alexander Ewing leaned forward in his chair, his expression earnest. “Have a care that it isn’t Bitter Pill, Jane. You don’t have to go.”
Jane held his gaze. The narrow smile that touched her lips was defined by sadness but no regret. “Yes,” she said, “I do.”
CHAPTER 1
October 1891, Bitter Springs, Wyoming
“Hey, Mr. Longstreet.”
Hearing his name, Morgan Longstreet broke stride. He avoided trampling eleven-year-old Finn Collins because the boy was as slippery as quicksilver and scuttled sideways at the last possible moment. Morgan looked down and gave him a brief nod. His acknowledgement was not meant to invite conversation, but Finn did not appear to understand that. The boy pivoted and loped beside Morgan, matching his pace across the platform to the station.
“Don’t see you much at the station,” said Finn. He glanced over his shoulder at the buckboard waiting at the end of the platform. “And you brought your wagon. I’m figurin’ you’re takin’ delivery of somethin’ pretty big. Am I right?”
Morgan ignored the overture and realized after the fact that it was the wrong tack to take. Finn repeated himself, this time loudly enough to be heard by the couple standing ten yards down the platform. Their heads swiveled in his direction. It took Morgan a moment to place the pair. He was not used to seeing George and Abigail Johnson away from the mercantile they owned. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded once. Petite Abigail Johnson smiled fulsomely while George raised his hand in greeting. Morgan was satisfied, even grateful, that the exchange ended there.
Morgan gauged the distance to the rail station’s entrance and lengthened his stride. He turned sharply when he reached the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn make another artful dodge to keep himself from being bowled over. Morgan could feel the boy dogging his heels right up to the counter.
“Afternoon,” Jefferson Collins said. The station agent raised himself a few inches above the stool he was sitting on, leaned over the counter, and extended an arm around Morgan Longstreet to grasp a handful of his grandson’s shirt and pull him sideways. “You think I can’t see you hiding behind Mr. Longstreet? What are you fussin’ at the man for, Finn?”
“I wasn’t fussin’.”
Morgan looked down at Finn and saw the boy was regarding him hopefully, anticipating perhaps that there would be support for his denial. He promised himself he would make it up to Finn some other time. Today, Morgan said nothing.
Mr. Collins released Finn’s shirt, smoothed the material over the boy’s shoulder, and gave him a light swat. “’Course you weren’t. Go on outside. Find your brother and make yourself useful to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Their son will have bags, maybe a trunk. Mind you don’t get underfoot.”
