station?” Old Horace, shuffling from the interior of Booker & Son general store, slowly drew a cheroot beneath his nostrils and inhaled. He paused at the nearest porch beam and struck a match. The loamy dark scent of tobacco drifted upward. “Bride train’s arrivin’ any time now.”
Seth tucked away the bandana. “Too much work waiting to go gawk at women keen on a husband,” Seth answered. “There’ll be plenty of eager grooms crowding the rails.”
“Might be you’d take a shine to one of those young fillies,” Gus Russell said from the bench where the two old men sat a healthy portion of the day when they weren’t playing horseshoes behind the church.
“A wife is pretty far down my list,” Seth told the two men, who knew all the comings and goings in town. Last fall, he’d sold his land in Missouri to start a ranch here in Kansas, and getting the White Rock stocked and operational took all his time and energy.
“You need sons to help you run that ranch,” Old Horace advised, peering up through a trail of smoke. He punctuated his statement by pointing his pipe stem at Seth.
Seth thought the same thing. He’d learned ranching from his father, and he wanted to pass down land and know-how to his own children, but the war and some unfortunate turns had put a kink in any plans he may have had. “Plenty of time for that.”
Shouts reached them, and the clanging bell across the intersection at the corner of The Cattleman hotel echoed along Eden Street. Seth’s immediate thought was a fire, and a jolt of unease rippled through his chest. He jumped to the ground.
Hoofbeats alerted him to a fast-approaching rider.
“Train derailed to the south!” the cowboy hollered from atop his prancing piebald. “Need ev’rybody’s help!”
Abram Booker appeared in the doorway in his clean white apron. “I’ll get another wagon from the livery. We’ll need to bring in the injured.”
“Help me unload these onto the boardwalk,” Seth called to the cowboy. They made quick work of stacking his purchases, and Abram tossed in an armful of blankets. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’m comin’, too!” Old Horace climbed up to the seat. Seth helped Gus into the back, and by the time they’d gotten to First Street, half a dozen more men and a few women had joined the old men in the back of the wagon. Seth urged the team past the now-deserted railroad station and south alongside the creek after which the town had been named.
He spotted a thin line of black smoke before he came within sight of the train. The engine and tender were overturned, and men worked at putting out fires along the tracks. The hazard of a prairie fire seemed to be under control. The foremost passenger cars had been overturned, and beyond those the stock cars were detached and had skidded together in a zigzag pattern.
The wailing of crying infants and children could be heard, along with shouts of men and whinnying horses. Other townspeople had arrived, as well. A few women offered water and assistance to passengers seated or lying on the sloping ground.
Seth set the brake handle and helped Old Horace down, then joined one of the small groups of men gathering to search cars.
“You’re strong and agile, Halloway.” Chesley Lawton, the portly gray-haired barber, gestured to him. “Come with our group.” He glanced over Seth’s shoulder. “You, too, young fella.”
The five men passed the closest cars and made their way farther along the tracks. A snake slithered from behind a rock and disappeared into the grass ahead. Seth chose a car no one had reached and surveyed the exposed underside facing them. He found hand-and footholds and climbed upward, another young man joining him. Finding the doorway, Seth sidled inside.
Two dozen passengers, having found no way to reach the doors or windows above them, appeared visibly shaken with various cuts and bruises. Together the men helped move debris and assisted women and children out and down to safety. The men made their way out last.
“Anyone still in here?” Satisfied everyone had escaped, Seth climbed out.
The young fellow beside him stuck out a hand as they headed for the next car. “Freddie Simms.”
“Seth Halloway.”
Entering the next car didn’t go as smoothly. The door was jammed and blocked. Freddie ran ahead of him to the front and yanked open the metal door. The cowboy led a group of frightened passengers out of the railcar.
“No wonder the rear door didn’t open.” Once inside, Seth surveyed the destruction. An entire row of seats had come loose and, along with a piece of interior ceiling, were piled at that end. He located an unconscious man with a head wound and kneeled to press his ear to the fellow’s chest. Freddie returned to stand behind him. “Heart’s beating.”
Together, they got the man as far as the doorway, and then shouted for help to get him down the twisted platform to the ground. The three on the ground took the unconscious person’s weight and Freddie helped ease him onto the grass.
Seth turned back inside. “Anyone here?” he called. Crunching broken window glass beneath his boots, he maneuvered toward the rear one more time. A muffled sound caught his attention. The size of the pile blocking the door prevented him from spotting anyone trapped beneath.
He kept searching, moving aside mangled metal and splintered wood. The car lurched, settling beneath him, and his heart jumped. He’d surveyed the ground by the railcar before entering, and there was nowhere for it to slide, so the movement was unsettling, but didn’t pose a threat. The battered seats and metal overhead were a true concern however.
He shoved aside a valise to discover a pair of women’s feet encased in high-top black boots. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and felt for a pulse. The leg moved, along with the dust-covered fabric of her skirt. He let go and wrenched away the cushions and frames, exposing a space where the fallen seats had formed a protective barrier. After dislodging the seats, he discovered a huddled woman and three children. He stifled his amazement and asked, “Are you all right?”
“I—I think so.”
The reverend, Virgil Taggart, joined Freddie behind him. He breathed a prayer of thanks and reached to take the children’s hands one at time. All three boys’ faces were tear-streaked and the youngest’s jagged breathing demonstrated his fear and recent crying. Freddie picked up the smallest one and herded the others toward the door.
“Come on, ma’am.” Seth helped the woman to her feet. She was taller than he’d expected—younger as well. Her red-gold hair had fallen from its mooring and hung over her shoulder in a shiny wave, with hairpins protruding. “You and your boys are safe. We’ll get you all to a doctor.”
“Peony is still under that pile somewhere.” The young woman backed away from the reverend’s outstretched hand and stepped closer to Seth. Her wide hazel eyes, with flecks of gold and green, had the uncanny ability to plead with his sensibilities. “I can’t leave her.”
Startled at that disturbing information, Seth turned back to the corner where he’d found them. Another child buried, injured or worse? “Where was she?”
“Right beside me when the train crashed, but I’m afraid all the shifting debris has covered her.”
“Get back.” He grasped her by the upper arms and moved her. Clearing away twisted
