burst open, and three armed men rushed in. Dressed in rough coats and dusty trousers, with bandannas over the lower halves of their faces, they waved pistols. Outside, other men on horseback held the engineer and fireman at gunpoint. Rosamond couldn’t tell how many were in the gang. She prayed no one would be injured, especially Beryl. She’d almost died in that bank robbery. Indeed, her confidence and fearlessness died that day.
“Hand over your money and gold.” The leader jammed the barrel of his gun under the nose of an old man. “Gimme your valuables.”
The poor man shook too violently to obey, so the outlaw shoved him down on the seat and dug into his victim’s coat pocket, removing a wad of cash secured in a monogrammed money clip.
Another outlaw held out a brown canvas sack as if taking up a church offering. The third man helped himself to the sleeping man’s wallet and the wife’s wedding band and moved down the aisle.
At the front of the car, the sleeping husband awoke and stealthily rose up, tall and broad-shouldered, behind the last outlaw, gun in hand. Rosamond couldn’t let him fight these outlaws alone. She pried Beryl’s hands from her arm and bent down to her tapestry satchel. If she was careful, the outlaws would think she was retrieving valuables. Instead, she wrapped her hand around the handle of her Colt .45 revolver and tucked it into the folds of her skirt. She’d made sure it was loaded before they left the Walsenburg hotel this morning. Now, should she shoot the gun from the closest outlaw’s hand or wait to see what the man up front did? With Beryl shaking and terrified, Rosamond couldn’t decide.
“I say, what a thrilling adventure. A real Wild West holdup, what?” The dark-haired Englishman grinned as the outlaws came closer. “Did you plan it for our amusement?”
Rosamond watched him grip his ebony cane close to his side. With his other hand, he reached into his black frock coat, pulled out an engraved gold watch and swung it on its fob. “Do let me play. Come along, gentlemen, and take the pretty timepiece.” Was he crazy or incredibly brave?
“Pip, pip, old man, such a lark.” The blond Englishman laughed, but like his friend, his posture indicated he was ready for a fight. Rosamond’s opinion of both men rose several notches. Dandies they were. Sissies they were not.
“What have we here?” The outlaw leader bent down and leered into Rosamond’s face, his whiskey breath causing her to recoil in disgust. “A couple of pretty misses. Say, boys, what say we take them along—”
Crack! A flash of black and gold whizzed past her face as the dark-haired Englishman’s cane slammed down on the outlaw’s gun hand, knocking his weapon to the floor. An upward thrust of the cane bloodied the man’s nose, and a third downward strike on his head sent him sprawling into the aisle. The Englishman placed one foot in the center of the man’s back and held him in place.
“Easy does it.” Up front, the tall man held his cocked gun at the head of the third outlaw, who dropped his revolver.
The second outlaw released the brown bag and raised his gun to shoot the Englishman. Rosamond stood and aimed her cocked Colt at his ugly face. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
With a sneer, the outlaw turned his gun toward her, but the blond man used his cane to strike a hard blow to his forearm. Like his friend, he finished the job with two more whacks to the face and head.
The eight male passengers ordered the outlaws to the front seats and stood watch, weapons at the ready. The six ladies redistributed the valuables to their rightful owners.
“I’ll check outside.” The tall man exited cautiously. Several shots were fired. Then quiet came over the scene.
Soon the fireman, sooty from head to toe from his job of stoking the engine with coal, entered the coach. “Howdy, folks. I see y’all have these three taken care of. The rest of the gang lit out fast when that lawman came out. No harm’s been done except to the train’s schedule. We’ll make it up on the down side of the pass, so y’all be sure to hang on tight.” His levity stirred camaraderie amongst the travelers, strangers before, but momentarily friends. “That there lawman’ll round up these three shortly and keep ’em in the freight car till we get to Alamosa.”
So the tall passenger was a lawman. Maybe he was headed for Esperanza. Father had planned to hire a sheriff after the bank robbery. Rosamond hoped this man was the one. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that none of the passengers were harmed.
Beside her, Beryl hugged her middle, the site of her wound, and whimpered softly.
Putting away her gun, Rosamond wrapped her arms around her friend. “Shh. It’s all right. No one’s hurt.”
Beryl nodded, but her eyes glazed over as if she weren’t truly aware of her surroundings.
As much as Rosamond wanted to cry, she forbade herself to let go of her emotions. Someone indeed had been hurt: her sweet, fragile friend. Maybe she’d been wrong to insist that Beryl return to Colorado.
* * *
From the way Percy chatted cheerily with the other men as they guarded the miscreants, Garrick could see he’d enjoyed the whole affair. Garrick himself found the entire incident thrilling. Not that he’d wish to repeat it, of course. Having a gun pointed at one’s heart did odd things to a man’s nerves, proving what he’d always believed about the American West. This was an uncivilized land and would remain so. A cultured nobleman like Uncle and his aristocratic friends wouldn’t enjoy their holidays here. The hotel Garrick had been sent to build—one after the English tradition—may be all well and good out in the middle of nowhere, but how would people travel there safely? And what would they do once they arrived?
Still, the courage of the other passengers impressed him, especially the lovely brunette. He’d been appalled to see her using a weapon but was fascinated by her composure, her courage. He’d never known an English lady who possessed such poise in the face of deadly danger. Unfortunately, her friend didn’t fare as well. Even now, the brunette held the trembling redhead in a comforting embrace.
Percy also noticed them. “Should I inquire as to whether they need anything?”
Garrick hesitated. If his cousin spoke to the distressed lady, friendship might follow, especially if Esperanza was her destination. Yet he couldn’t deny his own interest in speaking to her brave companion. “Yes, do ask.”
Percy started toward them. The brunette looked up and shook her head, fire sparking in her eyes. Percy obeyed her unspoken order. What a woman! Garrick would think twice before challenging her about anything. Ever. She reminded him of his childhood governess, a formidable woman who’d never taken any nonsense from him, and with whom he’d never won a conflict. Perhaps this was another reason not to meet this lady. Clearly, she belonged to this land. He did not.
Even that awareness didn’t douse his fascination with her. Yesterday he’d tried to devise a proper way to meet her, but could not. He’d decided the matter would run the usual disappointing course of his life. As the poet wrote, they were ships passing in the night. “Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.” For an American, Longfellow wrote quite eloquently on the matter. Yet here they were on the same train for a second day. Did that portend an improvement in his life journey? No, he mustn’t even consider it. She was an American!
The lawman took charge of the three outlaws, securing them in the freight car. With the passengers seated again, the train chugged up the mountain pass toward Garrick’s future, one he had no heart for, but the one Uncle had set before
