“Harlan? Everyone knows he doesn’t give a hoot in Hades about Daniel. All Harlan Wheaton cares about is his coal. It wouldn’t gain anyone a thing to hurt Daniel. My worry is he’ll be too close if they blow a train to kingdom come now that the owners refused to pay protection money. I do thank you for all the time you take for Daniel.”
“Daniel’s no trouble at all.” He chuckled. “The little scamp keeps me company.”
Daniel was a little scamp indeed. “He isn’t a nuisance, then?”
“You’ve done a good job with him, Abby. He’s a good boy with admirable hopes and dreams.”
Abby smiled. “All he talks of is going west and getting involved in railroading out there.”
Mr. Dodd wiped his spectacles. “I could help him if you stay in the east.”
“By summer I’ll have a nice nest egg saved from my cleaning and my brothers will have paid off our account to Wheaton Mining. We’ll be headin’ west. Daniel’ll be much better off.”
Mr. Dodd grimaced. “Neither of you will have to put up with snide remarks anymore.”
“I don’t let them bother me,” Abby lied. She hated pity almost as much as nasty comments. “But my son will never live down the circumstances of his birth here. Now I’ll just take myself along and find my railroading son. Perhaps I’ll be one of the first to see the train today, too. Good day to you,” she said, sketching a sassy curtsy.
Abby stepped onto the platform as the train whistle sounded again, closer, louder. She could even hear the chugging of the steam engine. “Daniel!” Abby called when she didn’t see him on the platform.
Daniel popped up from behind a crate and ran to her. “Come watch the train come in, Ma!” He grabbed her hand, tugged her along the platform, and around the corner of the station house. “Here she comes!” Daniel shouted, pointing down the tracks as the clicking wheels and the puffing engine drew closer.
“I guess you’ll want to stay till it pulls out, as well?” Abby shouted over the din.
“Oh, Ma, could I?” Daniel’s eyes were bright. She loved seeing him like this. Happy and carefree. Not shadowed by the taunts of unkind children or the whispered condemnations of disdainful adults.
“If you promise to sweep after dinner.”
Daniel shouted joyfully and ran off back down the platform. As Abby rounded the corner again, she saw he’d met up with Mr. Dodd. They consulted with each other then Daniel turned, pointing toward her. Abby waved and nodded her agreement to remaining behind, then she remembered her canvas shopping bag. Daniel and Mr. Dodd were gone when she came back around the corner again.
Abby heard a high-pitched feminine giggle as a sandy-haired man jumped off a passenger car, then swung a young woman off the stairs to the platform. They laughed as another man followed sedately. Judging from their expensive clothes, the three were guests of Harlan Wheaton. Four rough-looking men disembarked next. Though they stood a distance away, they still seemed to be a part of the wealthy group.
The younger man turned toward her and Abby’s head swam. Her heart thundered as she reached out to steady herself. He’d grown taller and broader but there stood Joshua Wheaton.
Joshua.
He looked around, then turned back to the blond woman, who took a step toward him and put her hand on his forearm. Abby felt as if a knife had thrust through her chest. Then the young woman whispered in his ear and twisted the knife.
Abby wrapped her arms around her middle and gasped for breath. She didn’t know what she should do. Run? Cry? Fly at him with her fists and demand to know why he’d abandoned her and how he could have ignored her last and final plea written on the day she delivered their son?
How could you condemn our son to a life of scorn?
She stepped back behind the cover of the stacked crates. She’d make him explain. But first, she had to get herself under control. First, she had to come to grips with a truth of her own. Why, after all Joshua Wheaton had done to her, after all the pain he’d caused her and their son, did it still hurt so much to see him come home with another woman on his arm?
“Surely your father sent a carriage, Joshua,” Franklin Gowery said, his displeasure at being stranded evident on his face.
Joshua shrugged. “I doubt it. I was unsure when I’d arrive.” I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t get right back on the train. I still might.
“He knew. Why do you think we took the morning train?” Helena replied.
Joshua bristled. Had meeting Helena Conwell and her guardian been some sort of planned ruse? “I was under the impression our meeting was happenstance. It was, wasn’t it?” Joshua demanded.
Gowery shot Helena a black look. “Of course it was. Isn’t that right, Helena?”
Helena laid her hand on Joshua’s sleeve but didn’t look him in the eye. “Yes, Uncle Franklin.”
Joshua let his mind wander. The town looked the same. Only he had changed. Emotions he couldn’t analyze raced through him, making his heart lurch painfully. Memories of Abby rushed at him. Why, Abby? his heart cried. How could you forget us? How could you marry Sullivan?
Taking a deep breath, Joshua tried to relax, remembering how he’d hoped his anxiety would be lessened by arriving with a pretty young woman on his arm. He forced a smile just before Helena stepped away.
“He could have at least sent a carriage for us. He knew we’d be on this train,” Helena groused.
“It must have slipped his mind. Apparently he hasn’t been well since his injury. I’ll find someone to send up to the house.”
Joshua saw a boy dancing after Mr. Dodd. “Son, how would you like to earn a penny?” he shouted.
The boy turned, his blue eyes bright and intelligent. “Sure, mister, as long as it’s not something against the law. My ma’d skin me alive if I got into trouble.”
“Maybe you ought to head on home,” Mr. Dodd interrupted.
Joshua chuckled. “I just want him to go up to Wheaton Manor and tell someone to send the carriage, Mr. Dodd.”
The boy grew visibly tense, his eyes shifting to the stationmaster then back. “Make it a nickel,” the boy demanded.
Josh arched an eyebrow. “A nickel? That’s rather steep.”
“Won’t go there for no penny.”
“It can’t be that bad going up to the manor.”
The boy’s face was set. “For most folks, maybe. A nickel or walk, mister.”
“Two cents,” Josh offered
“Four.”
“Three and that’s my final offer.”
“Who do I say
