‘‘I know we haven’t been properly introduced, but we could perhaps carry on a conversation, or I could go get the conductor to conduct an introduction. Makes the time pass.’’
Opal turned slightly so she could see him better. He
had
put the cigar out. There were some manners taught him sometime. And Ruby hadn’t said she couldn’t talk to anybody. Why, all those times she’d carried her tray of food to sell out to the train, she’d talked to most anybody.
True, they’d never been introduced. She turned a bit more and smiled slightly. What could they talk about?
‘‘Nice weather we’re having.’’
‘‘Yes, miss, it most surely is. You from around these parts?’’
‘‘Yes, and you?’’
‘‘You know where Seattle is?’’
Opal shook her head. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘It’s about as far west as you can go, right on the shores of Puget Sound in Washington Territory. I work for a packing company out there.’’
‘‘So where are you going now?’’
‘‘Chicago. What about you?’’
‘‘New York. I used to live there.’’
‘‘Never been there, but I hear it is some place. Where do you live now?’’
‘‘On a ranch outside of Medora.’’
Don’t you go saying too much.
You can get in trouble here too
.
‘‘Not much to see out here.’’
‘‘Not since we left the badlands. There you can never see enough.’’
‘‘You like the ranch?’’
‘‘Oh yes. I have a horse named Bay and a nephew named Per.
He’s the cutest thing.’’
‘‘So why are you going to New York?’’
Opal stared at him a moment.
Because I’m being banished
. ‘‘You ever play cards?’’
‘‘Sure. Why?’’
‘‘Just thought it might pass the time. It’s a shame we don’t have more people. We could play a round of poker.’’
‘‘That’s not exactly a lady’s game.’’
‘‘Depends on where the lady is from.’’
Not that I’m a lady, and
if I were, I sure as shooting wouldn’t be stuck on a train heading east
. The thought of Bay and the filly that would most likely be sold before she got home again made her clamp her lower lip between her teeth. All because of the drifter.
Just one man, if you could call
him that
. She glanced back at the man across the aisle. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to tar him with the same brush, but what did she know about him? Other than being well dressed, having decent manners, and almost handsome. She’d never bothered to be much of a judge of people’s looks.
‘‘I could perhaps find some more players.’’
‘‘Anyone you know?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘There are tables in the second car back. Several card games are already going on. But that’s not a good place for a young lady like you. I’ll go see who I can find.’’
After he left, she thought back those few short years to the trip she and Ruby made west. She’d been scolded soundly for spying in the men’s car. Besides, it would be full of smoke, and she didn’t care for smoke at all.
But card games were more fun with more players.
Mr. Waters—he introduced himself as Hank Waters— returned with two other men and pointed to them as he said their names. ‘‘Bud Jamison. Miss Torvald. Tack Sanders.’’
Opal nodded. ‘‘I’m pleased to meet you.’’ She motioned to the flat case that would be their table. ‘‘Shall we play?’’
‘‘We’re playing poker with a girl?’’
She ignored the muttered remark and remembered Belle’s admonition.
‘‘You’ll get a lot further with a sweet smile. Remember, bees
and honey.’’
‘‘Five-card draw, or do you have another preference?’’ She looked at all three, one by one.
‘‘That’ll be just fine.’’
The look in Tack Sanders’ eyes, nearly hidden by brushy eyebrows and whiskers, sent a shiver up her spine. A vision of a man against the sun flashed through her mind. She glanced around the car. Two ladies were chatting a few seats away. A little boy and girl were listening to a story being read to them. A silver-haired gentleman was snoozing with his head back. Surely nothing bad could happen to her here.
‘‘You sure you know how to play? Five-card draw is a man’s game.’’ Bud Jamison’s gold tooth caught the light.
Hank Waters drew a deck of cards from his breast pocket.
‘‘Shall I deal or would someone rather?’’
‘‘Let her.’’ Brushface, as Opal renamed Sanders, nodded toward her. His tone made Opal smile inside. He so obviously thought she was a chicken ready for plucking.
Opal shuffled the deck, then, thumbs on top, she riffled the cards together. She wanted to look at the heckler to see his reaction but instead repeated the process. After dealing the hand, she waited for them to check their cards and dealt out the number they asked for.
‘‘Beginner’s luck,’’ Brushface muttered after she won the hand.
Hank Waters raised one eyebrow, reached in his pocket to draw out his cigar, caught her look, and put it back. Either the other two men didn’t smoke or he’d warned them.
‘‘Winner deals?’’ She kept her smile inside.
‘‘A’course.’’ Goldtooth—Bud Jamison—twisted his mouth slightly to one side. His eyes narrowed.
Opal shuffled again and set the cards to the right to be cut.
‘‘Who taught you how to play?’’ Brushface asked when she scooped in the next pile of coins.
‘‘A friend. Would you care for a different game?’’
‘‘Nah. You can’t take three in a row . . . less you’re cheatin’.’’
‘‘Mr. Sanders, I don’t need to cheat.’’
Cheating is against my
principles.
What about obeying your sister?
The small voice slid over her right shoulder.
If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be on this stupid train going to New
York. I would be home where I belong
.
She shuffled and dealt with a snap to the cards.
This time she tried to lose, but the two men played so stupidly she gave up. When the bet was down to between her and Waters, she folded.
‘‘You two in cahoots or something?’’ Goldtooth stared at the cards. Waters had bluffed. She didn’t bother to show her cards.
When Waters dealt, and she won the hand again, Brushface roared and slapped both hands on the leather case. The coins jumped, as did Opal.
‘‘You’re cheatin’!’’
Opal sucked in a deep breath to still her rampaging heart.
‘‘You chit of a girl, you gotta be cheatin’!’’ He leaned across the playing surface, blowing stale beer and bad-breath fumes in her face.
‘‘She won fair and square.’’ Hank Waters spoke clearly, his voice soothing. His steely eyes said more.
‘‘You set us up.’’ Brushface slammed Waters with an elbow.
The case tipped up, coins flying in all directions, many sliding right into Opal’s lap, as the two men surged to their feet.
‘‘Now, now!’’ Goldtooth waved his hands. ‘‘No need to fight about this.’’
Hank blocked a thrown punch but tripped over the arm of the seat across the aisle. Brushface went after him with a snarl.
‘‘Stop it!’’ Opal pushed away the leather case. Oh, for her gun. Oh, for an escape. She was caught in the corner unless she scrambled over the back of the seat.
Keeping one eye on the two combatants, Goldtooth knelt down to scoop up some of the scattered coins.
‘‘Oh no you don’t.’’ Opal took a step forward and brought her boot down on the back of his hand.
He yelped and clutched his hand with the other. ‘‘You little . . .’’
A woman screamed. Men hollered.
The conductor slammed a knotted stick on Brushface’s head. ‘‘Enough!’’ His roar stopped all action. He hefted the baton again, but Brushface shook his head and raised a hand in surrender.
‘‘If you can’t play a fair game, get on out of here. Any more of this, and you’ll be off at the next stop.’’
The conductor hustled the two men on to the next car, then returned to glare at Hank Waters. ‘‘There wasn’t anything underhanded here, was there?’’ He glanced over to include Opal. ‘‘Did you know this man before?’’
‘‘No, sir. Just thought to pass the time.’’
‘‘I’d suggest you take up knitting or some such. A lot safer.’’
‘‘St. Paul coming up.’’ He nodded toward Hank Waters.
Opal sat back in her seat, trying not to laugh out loud, ignoring the voice trying to remind her she’d brought on trouble again. She should write Belle and let her know what had happened. Belle had taught her well.
After changing trains in St. Paul, Opal splurged with a good meal in the dining car, then snuggled under her quilt for some much needed sleep. For safety’s sake she tucked all her paper money down into her chemise, another lesson learned from the mistress of gambling. Good thing Ruby couldn’t see her now.
Opal woke shivering in the night. Brushface, Goldtooth, and the drifter had melded into one man in her dream and had pursued her across the country. No matter how hard she pushed her horse, her pursuer stayed right on her heels. Each time she looked back, he’d grown larger, till the arms reaching out to grab her seemed to brush her skin.
She sat up, struggling to catch her breath. She’d done it again. She’d caused someone else harm because she didn’t think things through. Mr. Waters had worn a cut lip and a blackened eye when he left the train, and although he’d told her more than once it wasn’t her fault, she knew it was.
When am I going to learn? No
wonder Ruby worries I’ll never be a gentlewoman. She’d never play cards
like that
. She blew out a breath.
But Belle would
.
She dozed off again sometime later but woke at each noise. When dawn lightened the windows, she finally felt free from the night demons.
From now on, you play only whist
. And this time she meant it.
‘‘I heard you had yourself quite a time, young lady.’’ The conductor stopped by her seat when she woke up. ‘‘You didn’t really cheat, did you?’’
‘‘Of course not.’’ Opal stared at him as if he’d sprouted scales. ‘‘I don’t need to cheat. They just underestimated me because I’m a girl. Serves them right. Where are we?’’ She stretched her neck from side to side to banish the crick that had settled in due to the way she’d slept.
‘‘Coming up on Chicago. Where’d you learn to play cards like that?’’
‘‘From a friend. Are they still serving in the dining car?’’
‘‘You can get something to eat there most all day long. Good part of the night too.’’
‘‘Thank you. Could you please watch out for my things here?’’
‘‘Tuck them under the seat. I’ll put up a Taken sign.’’
‘‘Thank you.’’ Opal stopped by the necessary and smoothed her hair back with dampened hands. She should brush the snarls out and rebraid it, but her growling stomach sounded about like two dogs going at each other.
Once resettled after Chicago, she read a book, got bored with the scenery, ate her meals in the dining car, read some more, chatted with an older woman who took the seat across from her, and was thoroughly bored by the time the train finally went underground to pull into New York.
She gathered her things, grateful that she’d taken time to wash up and do her hair, and followed the passengers down the steps.
‘‘Opal. Opal, over here.’’
She stood on her tiptoes to see who was calling her name. A waving hand caught her attention. That slender, fashionable young woman coming toward her couldn’t be Alicia, could it? Of course it was. She looked enough like her mother for them to be sisters. Same sealskin brown hair, the same welcoming smile, gracious to a fault. It was Alicia, all right.
‘‘Opal.’’ Even the younger fashion plate strolling beside the elder had her hair up. No long thick braid hanging down her back. It must be Penelope, but it couldn’t be. Penelope was the same age as Opal. ‘‘Opal, is it really you?’’
‘‘Last time I looked.’’ Opal could feel her cheeks burning. The last time she’d looked, she was dressed in a well-used dark skirt, and while it was clean, it had never even made an acquaintance with style. Her waist too had seen better days. If only she’d been allowed to wear her divided leather skirt and the soft fringed jacket she’d grown into, the one that had belonged to Belle. Opal sucked in a deep breath. It was all Ruby’s fault for hustling her off like that. Plastering a smile on a face that would rather frown, she squared her shoulders.
‘‘Yep, it’s me. But whatever happened to all of you?’’
‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘Why, you’re all grown up.’’
Alicia and Penelope laughed and hugged her. Jason gave her a wide smile, touching his hat brim in a one-fingered salute. ‘‘Wait until you see Bernie. He’s in school now too. Mother says she has the first peace she’s had in seventeen years.’’
‘‘They’d be here too, but Bernie fell out of the oak tree this morning and cracked his head a good one, so Mother had to stay home with him. She said to tell you she can’t wait to see you.’’ Alicia took her arm on one side and Penelope the other, leaving Jason to deal with the baggage.
‘‘Not fair.’’ But his grumble was accompanied by a wink.
‘‘We need to locate your trunk.’’ Alicia stopped her with a hand on her arm.
‘‘I didn’t bring one.’’ Not that she’d had enough clothes to even fill the bag she brought, since britches were impossible to bring along. That would have really shocked her friends.
Only the slightest pause betrayed their astonishment. ‘‘Good. Then we shall have to do lots of shopping.’’
‘‘Come along. The carriage is waiting. And Mrs. Fleish can’t wait to see you either.’’
Feeling she was caught in a hurricane, Opal let herself be guided through the crowd, one or the other of her captors pointing out people and places, a dress, a hat, until she wanted to stand still and scream.
But screaming had never been her way of dealing with things. Instead, she finally planted her feet and let their hands slide off her.
‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Alicia turned a baffled gaze on her.
‘‘Too much. This is too much. I’m used to air and sun and a wind that blows where it will. Give me a moment to catch my breath.’’
As if I want to breathe in these obnoxious odors
. She felt her nose pinch in protest.
Jason stopped beside her and plunked her valise down on the floor. ‘‘So what’s the difficulty here?’’ Even though his voice cracked, he already sounded like his father.