Page 5 of May I Kiss the Bride
She turned to look out the same window he was watching. She couldn’t make out anything unusual, apart from fields of grass and groups of trees. She couldn’t even see roads or houses. Eventually, the gray gloom softened and pinked. The sun moved closer to pushing over the western horizon, and Viola began to make out more details. The pale green of sagebrush. The deeper green of summer leaves on trees. The stretches of yellow-green grass blowing in the wind.
Suddenly Rey stood and swept off his hat.
Viola popped to her feet. “What is it? Did you see them?”
His eyes landed on her for an instant. “Saw something. Hold my hat.”
She grasped his hat with both hands and stared as he slid not one, but two pistols from his holster belt. He didn’t check to see if they were loaded, which meant he’d already loaded them.
“Rey,” she said as he stepped away from the bench. “Can I … help?”
A small grimace appeared on his face. “Keep my hat safe.”
Was that all? Not that she could manage a pistol, but surely … maybe she could alert the passengers? “What if—”
“Get back in your cabin,” he cut in. “Stay hidden. And if you’re a praying woman, I wouldn’t mind a good word put in for me.”
Viola opened her mouth to respond, but Rey strode toward the door that connected to the next car. He tugged it open, stepped through, then closed it firmly behind him.
Something in her belly tugged and she had the sudden urge to hurry after him. Surely she could do more than pray. Instead, she rushed to the window. What had he seen? And was the train slowing?
Her heart hammered its way up her throat as her gaze moved across the landscape speeding past. Grass, sagebrush, trees, a river … Then she saw it. Or more accurately,them.
Five riders atop horses. The beasts were charging ahead of the train as if in a race to the next train depot. But there was no train depot coming up, and the horses were sprinting, their eyes wide, their mouths open as if in a scream. The riders had whips and they were using them generously on the horses’ flanks.
Viola hated all five men on the spot. First, they dared to rob this train and steal from hardworking folks, and second, they were terrorizing their horses. Viola didn’t know what she’d do if they boarded the train and demanded valuables, but she wouldn’t be hiding underneath any bunk. She’d give them a piece of her mind.
Gripping Rey’s hat in one hand, she scooped up his jacket with her other hand. Then she marched to the connecting door. Opening it, she found another corridor leading to another car. Rey must have gone through there. So she did too.
The next car was a storage car. Filled with crates and trunks. The windows were high and let in very little light, but she continued through and opened the next door. The engine was louder now, and she must be getting closer to the front of the train. She entered the next car to find it was another storage car. Still, no Rey. How far had he gone?
She was about to open the next door when the train lurched, accompanied by a high-pitched screech. Viola lost her balance and fell next to one of the crates. Were they completely stopping? And did that mean Rey hadn’t been able to stop the train robbery?
Were the robbers climbing aboard even now? Had they shot Rey?
Viola’s stomach soured as panic raced through her. She gripped the nearby crate to haul herself up, but before she could stand, the door burst open in front of her. The tall figure coming through the door could have been anyone. The morning sunlight behind the man obscured his features, but when he spoke, there was no doubt it was the cowboy. Alive.
“Ms. Delany?” he barked. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in your cabin.”
Relief shot through her so swiftly, she had to keep ahold of the crate. “I wanted to check on you.”
He didn’t seem amused. In fact, his face was pale, and perspiration stood out on his forehead. That’s when she noticed. Blood soaked his shirt. It seemed to be everywhere. One of his hands gripped his stomach while the other hand still held a pistol.
Viola’s knees gave out and she again slid to the ground. This time, everything went black.
“I’M FINE,” REY INSISTED AS the town doctor poked at the skin surrounding the stitches on the side of his torso. “But that cattle prod is cold.”
Doc Smithson chuckled. “If this was a cattle prod, you’d be on the other side of the room by now.” He held up the small, blunt metal instrument.
All right, so it was only about five inches long, but Rey was bruised and the skin was tender.
“If this really hurts,” the doc mused, “it might be infected.”
“It does hurt, but not a lot,” Rey said with a sigh. “I’m just complaining.”
Another grin from Doc Smithson. His red mustache was trimmed as thin as a pencil and his eyebrows as bushy as a runaway caterpillar. The man was a skilled physician, but he had a bit of an unsympathetic way about him.
Case in point, he slathered on some red medicine, slapped a bandage over Rey’s stitches, then used a large amount of tape to close every seam possible. Which would hurt like stepping on hot coals when Rey had to peel it off.
