Ellen gasped, stumbling in the aisle of the hotel car as the train took a curve too fast for her liking. It felt as if they’d flip onto their sides.
I won’t miss this come morning. Though if she slept, it would be a miracle. They’d reach Sacramento before breakfast, where the law would speak to Mr. Prewett about him being Mr. Price.
And then there was Nash and never seeing him again. Even if her brain wasn’t spinning, the way the train rattled and shook she’d probably roll all over her mattress—
Gabe spilled through the curtains of his berth into the aisle.
She had him in her arms before he fully woke. “It’s all right, dear. Just a tumble.”
“Mama?” Gabe’s eyes blinked, and then filled with tears. “Mama!”
“Shh, now.” Oh, the lad was heavy. Especially now that he was fighting her. “Mr. Prewett?”
Heads poked out from berth curtains. At last, Mr. Prewett’s did, too. But Gabe was sobbing so hard for his mother, Ellen couldn’t hear Mr. Prewett’s mumblings.
“Wanna go home to Mama.” Gabe clung to her neck. “Take me home.”
Instead she carried Gabe to the dining car, away from the passengers who tried to sleep, stumbling as she went. “Follow me, Mr. Prewett.”
Nash was still where she’d left him, staring out the window. At her entrance, he jumped to his feet and took the thrashing boy from her arms.
“Fell out of bed. Wants his mother.”
“So I hear.” Nash bounced the boy on his lap.
“Wanna go home,” Gabe cried.
“Home is California, Son.” Mr. Prewett touched Gabe’s head. “Now quiet down and leave these folks in peace.”
Ellen’s foot thumped the floor. “Where is his mother, Mr. Prewett?”
He blinked like a fish. “I say.”
“That’s all?” Ellen’s vision reddened. “You say? Say the truth, I implore you.”
“New York.” Gabe’s voice was muffled against Nash’s neck. Ellen reached for the boy again, overcome by the need to protect him.
Nash’s eyes blazed into Mr. Prewett. “Time to come clean, Price. That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Gabriel Ar–fur Price,” Gabe answered instead. “We’re pretending it’s Prewett.”
“What do you say now?” Ellen shifted Gabe on her hip.
Mr. Prewett—Price, rather—didn’t speak. Instead he flopped onto a chair and burst into noisy sobs.
Nash shook his head. “Didn’t turn out quite like you wanted, did it?”
“I wanted her to be the one with no control for a change. It’s her money, her connections.” He sniffed. “I wanted to hurt her.”
“Gabe is the one who was hurt most of all.” Ellen shifted again so she could pull her spare hankie from her sleeve. Nash took it from her fingers and pressed it into Mr. Price’s hand.
“I know. I can’t—I’m sorry. I regret it.”
Nash leaned against a table. “Ellen figured it out and telegraphed east. There will be lawmen waiting for us in Sacramento who want to take the boy back to his mother. Maybe you should go back with him.”
“Is that what you want?” Ellen stroked Gabe’s hair. He didn’t respond, and a peek assured her he was close to sleep.
Mr. Price wadded her hankie in his fist. “I was so angry, but I want to be a family again.”
“I hope you’ll set things right.”
Mr. Price nodded, then stood and reached for his boy. “I’d like to take him back to bed now. My wife may not let me back in the house, so I’d best take advantage of tonight and hold him close.”
“Wise course. See you in the morning, then.” Nash’s blue eyes, gray in the dim, fixed on her. “You, too, Ellen.”
Oh. Was he angry she’d tipped their hand? “I hope he doesn’t run tomorrow.”
“Where can he go? Men will be waiting at the depot, and it’s not like he can jump off the moving train before that.”
“I jumped on.” She smiled. “But you pulled me.”
He smiled, too. “So I did.”
She wanted to stay, but he didn’t indicate that he wanted her to, so she nodded and trod off to bed. The hotel car was dark and quiet again.
It wasn’t until Ellen was curled on her berth that she realized her curtain had been wide open.
A pink-and-coral sunrise illumined the lounge car. Almost time. Nash stretched his legs and stood, but it was his arms that ached the most this morning. Not from holding Gabe last night, but for lack of something to hold.
He’d never thought he’d feel this way again, and the good Lord knew Nash never wanted to. Caring about someone—like this—brought pain and loss.
But it also brought warmth. Fun. Humor and light. Companionship and—
Nash shook his head, as if it would shake those thoughts out through his ears in the process. Ellen was starting a new life. He shouldn’t interfere with it, even if he knew his own mind. God help me, I don’t know what to do.
Sure he did. For starters, he had the Prices to deal with. And another matter. The puzzle of the bank robbers had played through his brain all night, while he’d stayed awake. It helped distract him from the realization that dawned with the sun, that Nash might want a roof over his head again. And other things. Like a family.
As if conjured by his thoughts, Ellen stood in the dining area. She wore her dress thecolor of grape jelly and a tentative smile. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
By unspoken agreement, they stepped to a southeast-facing window. The pink clouds had dispersed, and the sky looked clear blue as turquoise. He’d miss this, just being with her. Talking. Not talking. Just being.
After a while, she sighed. “We’re almost there.”
“You nervous?” He stroked her upper arm.
“For Gabe? No. He’ll be on his way home.”
“About you. Starting a new job tomorrow.”
“It’s an adventure, isn’t it?” Her face held anxious tension despite her smile. “I’m sorry we didn’t recover your quartz, though. And I—I wasn’t going to tell you, but my mother’s cameo is gone.”
His hand fell. “I’m sorry.” Learning of her loss felt far worse than losing his quartz.
“Sacramento,” the conductor called from the doorway. “Brief stop before breakfast.”
“Let’s go.” Ellen squared her shoulders. “I expect most folks are still sleeping, but the Prices were up when I left the palace car.”
Her prediction proved wrong. The passengers milled about the aisle. “Can’t wait to get off this train.” Lincoln mock-punched Nash’s arm.
“Three hours to the ferry, and we’ll be in San Francisco at last.” Mrs. Ridley patted the arm of her strawberry-haired friend.
“Ocean breeze and a solid bed.” Even Ridley looked jovial at the prospect of getting off the train.
“It’ll be wonderful, won’t it, darling?” Primrose reached to straighten Lincoln’s tie, revealing a bracelet dangling under the lace at her cuff. The piece of jewelry appeared so large it seemed it might slip off her hand. Like it wasn’t hers.
The only soul not jubilant was Jerome Price, who held Gabe close and nodded at Nash. “We’re ready.”
Two porters appeared. “Those gettin’ off the train in Sacramento, your bags, please?”
Nash hoisted his satchel over his shoulder while the Prices’ and Ellen’s valises were collected. A few ladies kissed Ellen on the cheek. “Happy honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Nash,” one called.
Ellen didn’t contradict her. “Thank you. Same to you.”
At the train’s lurching stop, the Howells got off with their small party. A group of five men waited on the depot—three lawmen and two men in string ties who identified themselves as lawyers for Magdalena Price.
“I’m ready to return home with my son,” Jerome Price said, hoisting Gabe into his arms. “It’s time to go see Mama again, and we won’t go away from her again. Neither of us.”
One of the lawyers took out a folder. “There’s the matter of the reward money offered by Mrs. Price. Miss Blanchard telegraphed, is that correct?”
“Gabe’s happiness is reward enough.” Ellen kissed the boy and wrote her name and address on a scrap of paper. “Let me know when you’re home.”
“I can’t write yet, remember?”
“I’ll help. I’m not leaving you or your mother again.” Mr. Price turned to go with the lawyers.
Nash held up his hand to the lawmen. “Wait a moment, sirs. If you could board the train with us, it’d just take a minute. I think there’s a matter you might be interested in.”
Clifford’s brows scrunched. “What is it, Nash?”
“Come on.” Nash pulled a porter aside with a quick message for the engineer. The train couldn’t move yet.
The hotel car was stifling after the fresher air of the depot, but this wouldn’t take long. The passengers had abandoned the palace car for the dining area, allowing porters to take down the beds and return them to sofas. Nash pointed at a berth. “One of your men may want to search this one for money and jewels stolen in the New York bank heists, but I think we’ll find what we’re looking for this way.”
Ellen was at his elbow. “What’s going on?”
“I’m getting your cameo back.”
In the dining car, Ridley looked up and groaned. “You’re back?”
“Miss us already?” Lincoln hoisted his cup.
“We’ll never make the speed record now.” Primrose toyed with her cuff.
“I don’t think it’s the speed record you’re concerned with.” Nash stopped at her side.
“That and getting off this stuffy train.” She laughed.
Clifford came alongside. “Nash? Are you sure?”
“Yep. She brought an awful lot of jewelry for such a short trip. Like she couldn’t leave it behind. I expect there’s more in her handbag as well as her luggage. And the money stolen from the banks in New York, too. Lincoln doesn’t know about interest; he’s no more a banker than I am. They’re the two you’re looking for, Clifford.”
“How dare you.” Lincoln tossed his napkin aside.
Primrose gripped her reticule and stood. “That’s it, Lincoln. Let’s get off the train here. I can’t bear to listen to this presumptuous, pompous man a minute longer.”
Ellen stood back to make way for her to pass, but failed to remove her foot from the aisle. Primrose stumbled over it. Nash caught her fall, but her reticule tipped, spilling coins, chains, a string of pearls, a cameo, and a chunk of quartz with a vein of gold in it.