“I’ll break her neck if anyone moves too close,” Paulie snarled, his words leaving Flick, who’d been stealing closer to Paulie, stopping in his tracks.
“You know you’re not going to break the neck of a woman you’ve been sweet on for ages,” Flick said. “Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just let Miranda go before this turns uglier than it already is?”
“I didn’t tail Miranda and that mouthy brat all the way from Chicago just to be lettin’ Miranda go now. ’Sides, I know that brat has money on her, and she’s gonna fork that over before me and Miranda hightail it outta here.”
“Did he just call me a brat?” Norma Jean asked, her voice rather shaky as she pushed herself up from the floor, seemingly unharmed, which sent a wave of relief through Seth.
“No one that knows you would say any different,” Paulie snapped before he nodded to the large reticule Norma Jeanhad been walloping him with. “But enough chitchat. Get your money out of that, then toss it to me real nice and slow-like.”
“This isn’t my bag. It belongs to that sweet elderly lady on the train—well, it did before you snatched it off her lap, depriving her of a carrying case for the cat that was sleeping on the seat next to her.” Norma Jean smiled. “It probably felt like it was the bag I stashed all my loot in when I was hitting you over the head with it because there’s a cat bowl in there.”
“Further proof you’re a brat,” Paulie growled before he nodded to a rucksack sitting on a table. “I imagine your loot is in there, but no funny business or Miranda’s going to suffer.”
Norma Jean lifted her chin. “You’ll never convince Miranda to return the affection you hold for her if you keep threatening her. If you’re unaware, ladies don’t like brutish men.”
“And men don’t like mouthy little brats, so prepare yourself for a life of spinsterhood.”
Something that almost looked like amusement flashed through Norma Jean’s eyes before she marched her way over to the rucksack, her marching coming to a rapid end when her gaze glanced over Seth, then returned to him a second later. “Seth. What areyoudoing here?”
“You didn’t see me trying to rescue you?”
Norma Jean’s nose shot into the air. “I’m perfectly capable of rescuing myself, thank you very much. And just because I’ve gotten myself into another pickle, that doesn’t mean I need you to swoop in once again to save me.” Her nose rose another inch into the air “The last thing I want when I get back home is for all my friends to start swooning over you again, calling you dreamy and begging me to take them to your workshop. It took me a solid month to convince them that you were practically elderly, but if word gets out that you saved me again, all that convincing will be for nothing.”
He swallowed the most curious urge to laugh, as well as the urge to ask how Norma Jean had convinced her friends he waselderly, since now was not exactly the moment for laughter or conversation not relevant to their current situation.
“Would you prefer me to sit back and let you get on with rescuing yourself?” was all he could think to respond.
“Does that even need to be asked?” Norma Jean countered before she headed over to Paulie’s rucksack, a hint of a bounce to her step, something that probably wasn’t going to bode well for Paulie.
“You best not be thinking about pulling a pistol out of your bag, little girlie,” Paulie said. “One sight of that and I’ll be giving Miranda’s neck a good twist.”
“My pistol fell out of my garter when I was trying to retrieve it after you stole those horses from the livestock car,” Norma Jean scoffed. “Fortunately for you, I wasn’t given an opportunity to scoop it up before you tossed me over the back of a horse like I was a sack of potatoes.”
It really came as no surprise to Seth to learn that his little sister had been roaming around the country with a pistol stuck in her garter, a stashing place she’d probably begun using after the grenade incident, with the hope that if he or Louisa thought to pat her down for additional contraband, they wouldn’t think her stocking would be the place to check.
“How about you just don’t open your bag at all,” Paulie suggested. “Fact of the matter is, I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t blame you,” Norma Jean said pleasantly as she began rummaging around in the rucksack, pulling out a large pink reticule a moment later. She turned and quirked a brow Paulie’s way as she jostled the reticule up and down. “As you can see, it’s loaded with loot, but if you want to get your hands on it, you’re going to have to untether Miranda in a sign of good faith.”
“No can do ’cuz I ain’t got a knife on me to cut through the rope.”
“Would you care for me to provide you with one of those?” Norma Jean asked sweetly.
“And have you stab me in the process? I think not.”
“Then we seem to be at a standoff since I’m not giving you this bag until you release Miranda.”
“There ain’t no standoff because I’m the one holding all the cards, or rather, a neck.”
“Go ahead and think that’s true, but you’re not actually holding all the cards now because my brother’s here,” Norma Jean countered. “He’s a ruthless sort, even though he doesn’t look it. And just because he said he’s going to let me try to rescue this situation doesn’t mean he won’t step in if he thinks matters are going south.” She glanced at Miranda and smiled. “And while I’m rather attached to Miranda because we’ve been having great fun traveling together, Seth doesn’t know her. That means he just might lose patience and decide to drag me out of here, leaving Miranda and you behind, with no loot left in your possession since I’m sure Seth will, being a man who plays the hero often, take your rucksack with him so he can return all those valuables you stole from the train passengers. Why, he might even find himself written up in the local papers, something I’ll find annoying because I was hoping to see my name in print before his was again.”
Seth shot a look to Annaliese, who was standing with his mother a good few yards away, speculation in her eyes, probably put there because Norma Jean seemed to be airing a lot of grievances she held against him, and grievances he’d had no idea she held.
Before he could think of why his sister held grievances in the first place, though, his mother took that moment to glide into motion, Pierre bobbing up and down on her shoulder.
“I have a small pocketknife you can borrow,” Louisa began, stopping when she got within ten feet of Paulie, who was all but gawking at her, and who could blame him since it wasn’t a usual occurrence to see a refined lady strolling into a dangerous situation sporting a parrot on her shoulder.
Before Paulie could utter a single word, though, Norma Jean’s mouth dropped open before she pressed her lips together and stared at Louisa for a long second before she wrinkled her nose.
