Chapter Thirty
Cody stood on the train platform, his mind in a chaotic whirl. It was paradoxical to think that he’d nearly pushed Amelia to this very end—leaving Gunnison on a train--only a matter of weeks ago. Guilt coiled in his stomach. He shook his head, pushing the feeling down.
All around him, the people of Gunnison were moving about, coming and going.
While it wasn’t a bustling metropolis by any measure, it was the last town of notable size for quite a while.
There was a water stop up the tracks a ways, where the train would stop just long enough to take on water and sand before beginning a climb up the hills and then descending to the plains.
After that, it was all cattle towns and one-horse little villages for hours on end.
A few cars down, a couple of porters were helping a pair of cowboys to load a bull onto a livestock car.
Passengers rushed around, trying to find the correct car to board.
The bull wasn’t having any of it and had planted his hooves on the wooden ramp, refusing to budge.
The humans pushed and pulled at him, grunting and straining.
“I hope all that ruckus doesn’t delay the train,” a matron near him sniffed. She wore a crisp black traveling suit and a hat with sagging silk flowers. She held a handkerchief daintily to her nose.
Cody didn’t respond, but he was inclined to agree with her. The way that his heart was rattling around inside his ribs, he didn’t know if he could cope with being gone even a single moment longer than was necessary.
The steam engine whistled, signaling imminent departure. Cody stepped forward, one foot on the stair into the railcar, his hand on the metal handle on the outside, ready to hoist himself upward. Even though he couldn’t see the ranch, he still found himself looking backward in that direction.
Their plan was simple: Cody would be seen departing Gunnison, ostensibly to speak with someone who was attempting to buy the ranch.
Unfortunately, this meeting had to be done in person.
Arthur, meanwhile, would complain in town about having to move the herd to higher pasture, which would take him away for the next several days.
The goal was to lure Dean out, leading him to believe Amelia was alone at the house. The question was whether he was greedy enough to take the bait.
Keep her safe, he prayed silently before boarding the train.
***
The train didn’t even have time to fully stretch its legs before it reached the water stop.
A couple of people milled about outside on the plain, on the uncovered platform that served as a station.
They mostly looked like people waiting to collect mail or mail-order packages.
The train ground to a halt in a screech of wheels.
Cody rose from his seat, finally releasing the white-knuckled grip he’d had on his knees for the past hour that it took for the train to reach the water stop.
Pulling his duster closer around himself, he sidled his way up the aisle, stooping slightly to try to get a look out the windows in the direction of the station.
He hoped that Arthur had fulfilled his task; if he hadn’t, they would all be in a fix. He held his breath as he reached the door to the railcar and stepped off the train.
There, at the very end of the sun-baked platform, a horse was tied, a boy standing next to it.
The boy was kicking at the dirt, occasionally stooping to pick up a rock.
The boy glanced around and raised his fist with the rock in it, clearly intent on whipping it at the train engine.
He caught Cody’s eye at the last minute and dropped the rock, wiping the dust from his hands on his pants as if he hadn’t been doing anything wrong.
“You, Mr. Walker?” he called.
Cody nodded, striding toward the horse. It was a dark bay with a white snip on its nose, its mane cropped close in deference to the heat.
“Mr. Arthur said you’d be comin’ by for a horse,” the boy said, jumping down from the platform to stand next to the horse, giving it an affectionate slap on the neck. “He said you wanted a fast’un?” He had a stalk of grass shoved between his teeth and bare feet.
“That I do,” Cody murmured.
“Sprinter ‘ere is as fast as they come,” the boy said confidently. “She’ll get you where you’re going in a hurry.”
“I’m certainly in a hurry,” Cody said. He stepped down off the platform as well, landing on both feet. The mare eyed him suspiciously, tossing her head impatiently. Cody reached out his hands for the reins, which the boy had unwrapped from the hitching post.
The boy hesitated for a moment. “You a bank robber or somethin’, Mister?
” At Cody’s dour look, the boy raised his hands defensively.
“I ent here to judge! Pa says we sell horses to all kinds. None of our business what folk do with them afters. Only, I should tell you that there are Pinkertons about. Professional courtesy, an’ all. ”
Cody absorbed this for a moment. He didn’t venture outside of the safe bubble of Gunnison very often, and when he did, it was always something of a shock.
Wordlessly, he took the reins from the boy, who gave them up easily.
Cody took a moment to adjust the stirrups of the saddle, a light cavalry issue built for speed rather than comfort or cattle work.
“I’m not a bank robber,” he said at last. “Just a man eager to get home.” He swung up into the saddle, settling his boots into the stirrups.
“Oh.” The boy looked so disappointed that Cody felt the need to take pity on him.
“I promise that if I do change professions, you’ll be the first to know,” he said. This seemed to cheer the boy, who stood back and offered him a jaunty wave and a gap-toothed smile.
Cody shook his head as he turned the horse around, pointed back toward Gunnison. He didn’t know quite what to make of the whole interaction. He pushed it from his mind.
The horse, sensing his eagerness to be gone, tossed her head again, chewing the bit and dancing in place.
Cody adjusted the reins in his hands, curling them between his fingers.
He suspected that he’d need all the leverage he could get with this one—she clearly had a hotblood somewhere in her pedigree.
“Alright, Sprinter,” Cody murmured to her. Her ears flicked backward, listening to his voice. “Let’s see if you live up to your name.” He had scarcely touched her sides with his spurs before she was off like she had been shot from a cannon.
Cody was widely regarded as one of the best horsemen in the county, but even he was taken aback by the explosive way that Sprinter surged forward. He regained his composure and lifted from the saddle slightly, letting her back have more ease of movement.
Arthur had chosen well; she was as sure-footed as she was fast, and her strides ate up the ground as Cody cut cross-country back toward Gunnison. Cody didn’t let himself hope that things would turn out well, not yet, but instead of anxiousness, there was determination in his bones.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the horse’s neck, already warm and musky with sweat.
Her black mane was whipped backward by the wind, stinging his face.
A thousand different possibilities ran through his mind: The horse could step wrong in a gopher hole and break its leg.
He could be set upon by bandits. Dean could have been more hasty than they thought.
He didn’t care; he kept his eyes fixed on the ground ahead of them. Somewhere, too far to see, Amelia waited.