Authors: The Soft Touch
It was clear, as Diamond looked out the windows of the train, that they weren’t in the civilized East anymore. The dense white pine forests of Wisconsin and oaks of eastern Minnesota gave way to short-grass prairie that seemed to roll on to eternity, unbroken except for the occasional tops of trees jutting up from dry creek beds and clustered along muddy, meandering rivers. And as they pushed farther west, the land grew even more forbidding, studded with rocky buttes, wind-carved escarpments, and deep ravines.
But the terrain was not all that was changing.
Beginning with their last night in St. Paul, Bear had begun to “walk” the cars regularly, climbing up the ladders and over roofs and cargoes, traveling the length of the train and back. Diamond watched in horror as he jumped between platforms or bounded from a ladder up onto the roof of a car, and wondered if he were that desperate to escape her and the tension that sometimes crackled like static electricity between them. When she saw Robbie raptly watching Bear’s acrobatics, she dragged him away
from the window and declared that if he ever tried something like that and survived, she would happily strangle him afterward.
By the time they reached the Dakotas she discovered that several men bearing rifles had quietly appeared in the engine cab, on top of the coal tender, and on strategically placed platforms and flatcars.
“Is this gun business really necessary?” Diamond demanded irritably of Bear, when Robbie announced that one of the men had let him hold a rifle.
“Rough country,” Bear said, scowling. “Have to be prepared for anything.”
Just what sort of “anything” was made clear the next afternoon when she heard the rifles firing and felt the train slowing down. Rushing to the windows, she and Robbie spotted a number of bison running from the sound, vacating the tracks up ahead. She slid weak-kneed into a chair with her hand clutching her racing heart, while Robbie jumped around the car and whooped with excitement.
They pulled into Great Falls in the early hours of the morning and had to wait until after sunup for the tracks to clear so they could reach the station. By the time they came to a full stop, the wooden platform was crowded with people who had heard their whistle and come running to meet the train.
“About time ye got here!” Halt Finnegan shouted as he worked his way through a motley crowd of cowhands, railroad clerks and porters, and barkers hawking everything from land tracts to gold claims to hot meals. The Irishman’s voice boomed and his grin was filled with relief as he clamped a thick arm around Bear and all but lifted him off the ground. “So how was it—yer first ride behind yer own engine?”
“Not bad, Finnegan.” Bear’s grin was tempered by the fatigue and strain he glimpsed in his partner’s face. “You ought to try it sometime.”
“That I will. And th’ rails?” Halt craned his neck for a glimpse of them.
“All present and accounted for,” Bear said. “Got the crane and picked up thirty or so men. I took on a kitchen and hired a cook back in Milwaukee. It wasn’t in our plan, but I figured it would save time and money in the long run.”
“A cook?” Halt frowned, but seemed more distracted than disapproving. “I hope he makes good biscuits. A man can’t get a decent biscuit to save ’is soul, in this infernal place.” He lowered his voice and pulled something out from under his coat. “Here, lad. Ye might be needin’ this.”
Bear looked down at his revolver and holster and felt his skin contract.
“What’s happened?” He stood straighter and instinctively began to scan the people on the platform for signs of threat.
“Not much.” Halt looked around them and flashed Bear a look at the gun inside his own coat. “But Beecher’s in town. Was here when I got here … payin’ calls on th’ ranchers we bought land from, tellin’ ’em we didn’t get loans and our contracts with ’em weren’t worth a spit in a windstorm. Offered ’em twenty cents on the dollar—”
“They didn’t sell to him?”
“No, but it’s just the luck o’ the Irish I wasn’t one day later,” Halt said, “else we’d ’ave lost the McGregor land. Once the ranchers got word I was back, they quit listenin’ to Beecher, and I made good on our options an’ registered th’ deeds.” He gave a wicked laugh.
“I could get used to this … having a jingle in my pockets. When we drive th’ last spike in th’ Central an’ Mountain, I may have to find meself a rich wife!”
Wife. Bear remembered suddenly and turned back toward the car. Diamond was standing not far behind them, holding Robbie’s hand. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were dark. Clearly, she had heard Halt’s comment.
“Well, I’ll be …” Halt recovered quickly. “If it ain’t the little lady herself.” He removed his hat and headed for her with his hand outstretched. “Welcome!”
She didn’t release Robbie or abandon her grip on her satchel.
“And you are?” she asked evenly.
“Halt Finnegan.” Bear inserted himself between them. “My partner.”
“Ahhh.” She gave Bear an accusing look. “Your
partner
.” Then she turned a polite smile on Halt. “You look strangely familiar, Mr. Finnegan. But I can’t imagine where we would have met … so I must be recalling someone else.”
“There’s but one o’ me, ma’am,” Halt said with a twinkle in his eye, glancing between Bear and Bear’s frosty wife. “And this must be the young lad I heard about … the one who took sick a while back.”
“The very same,” Bear said, knowing he had to make some explanation. “I insisted Diamond come and see the Montana Central and Mountain being constructed. That way she’ll know she’s getting her money’s worth.” Those words, combined with her presence, spoke volumes about the state of their marriage and her chilly air.
“Ye’ll get good value for yer dollar here, miss, er—ma’am.” He looked to Bear. “I got ye a room at th’ hotel. A good thing, I reckon.”
“Robbie and I won’t be needing a hotel, Mr. Finnegan,” she declared.
“Halt, ma’am.” He grinned his Irish best and reached for the satchel. “Let me take that for ye.” To Bear’s surprise, she relinquished it to him.
“I cannot speak for Mr. McQuaid, but Robbie and I will be staying in our rail car.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at their private rail coach and Halt’s eyes widened as he took it in. “What we
could
use is a place to bathe.”
“I believe we can accommodate ye, ma’am,” Halt responded.
As they neared the station house, Bear slowed suddenly.
Leaning back against the wall, with their feet propped beneath them on the siding were three tough-looking men wearing dusty hats, worn boots, and revolvers slung around their hips. One was smoking a cigarette, one appeared to be napping while standing up, and the third was whittling a small piece of wood. When the smoker spotted Bear, his sun-creased eyes contracted to slits. He nudged the others and nodded toward Bear and Halt.
“Some new boys in town,” Bear observed quietly, feeling every muscle in his body—even his scalp—go tense.
“More than just them.” Halt too was moving with deliberate casualness.
“They’ve got Beecher written all over them,” Bear mused and Halt nodded in confirmation.
“What or who is Beecher?” Diamond asked, looking to Bear, then to Halt.
“Nobody,” Bear said, stopping when they were directly opposite the glaring threesome. He produced the gun he’d been keeping out of Diamond’s sight and heard her take a sharp breath. Releasing her arm and tucking back the sides of his coat, he proceeded to strap the Colt revolver on his hip and tie it down. His movements were brisk and practiced and, as intended, they sent an unmistakable message to the three hired gunmen.
He pulled Diamond’s hand back through the crook of his elbow and led her and Robbie down onto the main
street. All the way, they could still feel the men’s gazes boring into their backs.
“You see that, Diamond? Bear’s wearing a six-gun!” Robbie said, staring eagerly over his shoulder at the surly threesome, who peeled themselves from the wall and struck off down the main street, in the opposite direction. “An’ them other men—they had guns, too!”
“Don’t stare, Robbie,” Diamond said through her teeth, pulling him back around. “It’s not polite.”
Great falls was a typical end-of-the-line railroad stop. At its center were wood-framed buildings that fronted along a broad, dusty street. The permanent buildings were mostly commercial properties: sundry stores and shops, a bank, a boarding house or two, a saloon, a land and assay office, and a rambling, hastily constructed hotel.
Around that stable core had collected a shifting, changeable society of tents. Like their insubstantial shelters, the enterprises housed in these tent cities tended to be short-lived and not always wholesome: saloons and dance halls, cheap eateries, bathhouses, sleeping tents, gambling dens, and peddlers’ stalls.
Halt led them through the more permanent part of town to a street of tent buildings that had been covered in the front with wood, to give them a more respectable appearance. There, he showed them the temporary offices of the Montana Central and Mountain Railroad … an impressive wooden front with a gold-lettered sign that, like the others, opened into a sizable canvas tent. Inside were a few tables, a desk, and a number of displayed maps marking the route of the railroad and the parcels of land that would be for sale along it.
“Welcome to th’ office of the Montana Central and Mountain Railroad,” Halt said proudly. “As soon as th’
track is laid an’ we’ve built up a store of revenue, we’ll decide on a place and build a real building.”
Diamond felt Bear’s gaze on her and decided to withhold judgment for a while. She had seen new businesses begin in far worse circumstances and become quite successful. She didn’t want to discount the Montana Central and Mountain unfairly because of the underhanded way its owner had raised its capital.
“Any questions, Miss—Mrs. McQuaid?” Halt asked.
“Only one, Mr. Finnegan.” When he raised a finger and produced his best Irish smile, she softened. “
Halt
. Where can I find that bath?”
Mrs. Goodbody’s Bathing Emporium was a few doors down, identified by a hastily painted sign that promised hot water and towels for a modest fee and declared soap to be available at an additional cost.
Diamond handed the protesting Robbie over to Bear, with the suggestion that someone take a scrub brush to him, and then she entered the door marked Women. For a dollar she was shown to a tall wooden stall in the open air, provided with a large copper tub, a crude stool, and a series of pegs for her clothes. The attendant handed her a sliver of coarse soap and a stiff piece of toweling, then returned shortly with a boy carrying buckets of water.
Closing her eyes so that she wouldn’t see the scum on the tub or what might be floating in the water, she settled into the warmth with a groan. If only she could keep her eyes closed all the time she was here … she wouldn’t have to see things like Bear strapping on a gun in front of three men who looked like they chewed nine-penny nails for breakfast.
What the devil was he trying to do? Get himself shot? Her stomach was only now coming out of a knot. He had an appalling penchant for responding to any sort of threat with physical force. Back in Baltimore it had been disconcerting
and somewhat embarrassing; out here it could be downright deadly.
Those men at the station had glared openly at him, unconcerned—perhaps even hoping—that their behavior might provoke a response. Bear had certainly obliged them with one: halting right in front of them to strap on his revolver. Her heart had stopped as she watched his big supple fingers fastening holster ties around his thigh, just above his knee. She had read enough books to know that out West a man didn’t usually tie down his side arm unless he assumed he’d have to draw it fast.
This was the
West
, she realized with a jolt.
Her
West. It unnerved her that it was proving to be every bit as woolly and untamed as it was in her books. Here society and the law were what people of conscience made them. It was up to strong, decent, forward-thinking men to bring civilized behavior to these parts, not to strap on a gun and swagger around pretending to be Cactus Jack or Black Bart. If this was Bear McQuaid’s idea of progress, it was little wonder he had trouble getting loans for his precious railroad. At any given moment, he was just half a step away from out-and-out barbarism.
As she soaked and steeped, she remembered the way he had muscled poor Ellsworth at the Vassars’ party, the way he had carried her when she fainted, and the way he had slung her across his shoulder and carried her off with him to Montana, and she felt a warmth rising in her that had nothing to do with the heat of the water. She groaned and abruptly sat up to scrub. What did it say about her, that she seemed to find his powerful, physical, volatile nature so fascinating?
It was the better part of an hour later, after toweling her hair and pinning it up, that she pulled on her new knickers and camisole, then donned new stockings, a petticoat, and her sturdy new boots. She found herself stroking the fine
cotton of her new blouse and fingering the demure lace at the collar. It was perfect. Just the sort of thing she would have chosen for herself … if, of course, she had been allowed to go shopping and choose for herself.
Quickly, she donned the rest of her clothes and packed her others in her satchel. With her resistance once more in place, she threaded her way out of the maze of bathing stalls to the front entrance of Mrs. Goodbody’s.
There, leaning against the wall, just outside the doorway to the men’s side, stood Bear. Tall, muscular, and heart-stoppingly Western … he was wearing those glove-fitting blue trousers of his, Western boots, a simple cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a leather vest that appeared aged to butter softness, and of course, his hat … which was pulled low over his eyes. She stopped inside the doorway, staring, feeling as if she were looking at a stranger … a handsome, dangerous foreigner … denizen of a hazardous but enthralling land. Something hot and restless and deliciously defiant stirred in her as she looked at him and remembered—
A woman’s voice cut through the air like a rusty knife.